American comic book: Transmigrated into Dior and adopted by the Wayne family

Chapter 99 An Attack from Death Knell!! (Seeking first subscription)

"I've been assimilated by Gotham, just as I thought."

Dio tried his best to suppress the panic in his heart, but his heart was pounding uncontrollably.

But the thought that a death angel clad in armor of sorrow and wielding two magical longswords would come to take his life in a few days made him less panicked.

As a time traveler, he knew that his victory that day was purely by chance; the other side hadn't been serious at all.

After all, in one timeline, the Angel of Death, Azrael, even turned Batman into a human pig.

Those two magical weapons are also very powerful; as long as the concept of "hitting" exists, their abilities will be forcibly activated.

One awakens feelings of guilt, the other awakens psychological trauma.

He only has one chance.

If you can't even get past the death knell, you might as well die at the hands of the enemy.

Dior took out his phone and sent a text message to Selena.

Don't come looking for me these next few days, and don't go home!

However, there was another unknown text message on the flip phone.

I know you're still alive. Contact me or someone else.

Does the Owl Court know I'm still alive?

Dior was not at all surprised that the owl knew he was still alive.

But judging from their tone, it seems they want to help me resolve my feud with Saint Dumas?

"Sorry, I don't have the habit of being someone else's dog."

Dior scoffed, and just as he was about to put his phone in his pocket, his spider-sense sent a sharp pain through him.

It wasn't the kind of stinging that gradually intensifies; it felt like someone was banging a drum inside my head!

"Starting now??? Aren't you giving me any time at all?"

Without any hesitation, Dio instinctively half-squatted down.

call!

A fist grazed the back of my head, the force of the blow sending goosebumps up my neck.

Damn it!

If he had been half a second slower, that punch would have landed squarely on his temple, at the very least causing a concussion.

Deathstroke's power is so great that a single punch can render an ordinary person incapable of fighting.

"I said there's no time limit."

The sound of death knells came from overhead!

"Understood."

Dio sprang up from a crouching position, grabbed Deathstroke's outstretched right arm with both hands, and used his waist and abdomen to execute a backhand throw.

Deathstroke clearly hadn't expected a thirteen-year-old to have such skill, and his body instantly levitated.

But his posture in the air was extremely unusual; with just a slight twist, his center of gravity returned to its original position within half a second.

After his feet landed, Deathstroke didn't even pause to regain his footing. He grabbed Dio's wrist with his other hand and, using the momentum of the roll, forcefully swung it away.

This instinctive reaction!

I used a backhand throw, and my opponent used a backhand backhand throw?

Dio was thrown out, landing on his back.

Before landing, he felt his center of gravity subtly shift.

boom.

He landed firmly on his feet, exactly two meters away from the death knell.

Is this how Selena feels?

The landing was better than I expected, and I wasted less energy than I thought.

And this sense of balance...

Dior's gaze was enigmatic.

Two meters away, Deathstroke straightened up and glanced at him.

"You have a special kind of sense."

He drew a dagger from his belt, his tone confident: "It can detect my sneak attack in advance."

"But you didn't find me."

Dior dusted himself off, his face expressionless.

As soon as he finished speaking, a fine golden electric light suddenly appeared on Deathstroke's right arm.

His pupils contracted slightly, and his hand holding the knife involuntarily turned towards himself, stabbing with the dagger!

"Huh? What! Uh!"

Deathstroke growled, gripping his right wrist tightly with his left hand, veins bulging.

His right arm was still curled back, and the tip of the knife was getting closer and closer to his chest.

But the more this happened, the faster Deathstroke's mind worked, and he immediately understood everything.

Just seconds ago, Dior had grabbed his arm.

During that brief physical contact, some kind of special energy was transmitted between them.

Deathstroke guessed the principle of conduction.

Water or a moisture-rich medium is its high-speed propagation carrier.

"Dio".

The tolling of the death knell turned somber, tinged with annoyance.

"Are you reminding me not to act rashly before fully understanding the target's background?"

"I originally just wanted to have some fun with you, but now I'm going to get serious."

As he spoke, he raised his head.

The blond boy in front of them disappeared.

The container aisle was empty, with only the chirping of birds from the distant dock.

A silence fell over the room.

"hehe."

Deathstroke stared at the clearing, slowly releasing his right hand, the dagger twirling in his palm. "Interesting."

He said in a low voice, a smile that wasn't really a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Four days.

He has plenty of time.

A blond kid who doesn't know how to respect others will regret his decision sooner or later!

As a result, Dior experienced countless battles and assassinations in the past few days.

Bombs, gunfire, sniping, hand-to-hand combat—everything imaginable and unimaginable happened.

Death Knell got serious, but not entirely.

Because some wicked guy didn't pay the money in full at once.

boom!

Dior leaped and crashed through the wooden wall of the port warehouse, with dazzling flames behind him.

boom!!

He deftly rolled away from the shrapnel of the explosion and sprinted forward.

He didn't sleep a wink for four days.

Fortunately, the training of Ripple can replace sleep to some extent, and a short nap is enough to keep me alert.

As for the dangers of falling asleep?

What about spider-sense?

"One last night, Dior!"

The sound of a death knell came from the shipping container overhead, carrying a strong sense of murderous intent.

"There are only the two of us here."

"Let me see what else you've got up your sleeve!"

"Comeon!"

Dio pulled out his grappling hook gun with a backhand motion and pulled the trigger without even aiming!

Dynamic vision combined with spider sense, his intuition told him that this angle would definitely hit the target!

call out!

The bell's telescopic baton extended rapidly, easily knocking away the grappling hook.

Dior deftly flipped onto the container, feinting a punch while simultaneously unleashing a powerful strike from the side.

Come again?

Deathstroke had seen this kind of sneak attack tactic quite a few times in the past three days.

Sometimes it's a fist, sometimes a rapier; it's impossible for an ordinary person to defend against, but for him...

He doesn't need to see these guardian spirits; he only needs to anticipate them based on Dio's gaze!

Deathstroke ducked to dodge Gold Experience's punch, and casually drew his gun, only to have it kicked away!

Over the past four days, Dio has been honed to the point of instinctive reaction by the enemy's attacks.

Because in battle, there is often no time to think; only instinct can give you the upper hand.

It's now!

Gold Experience grabbed the gun handle first, the dark muzzle aimed at Deathstroke's forehead.

At the same time, Deathstroke pulled out a dagger and pressed it against Dio's throat.

As the sun rose, its warm light fell upon the two of them.

Both of them knew that their four-day hellish journey was over.

"You're very good, Dior."

Deathstroke was the first to sheathe his dagger, a rare look of approval appearing in his one eye.

Dio's tense nerves relaxed at this moment, and he returned the gun to Deathstroke.

"it's over?"

Deathstroke caught the pistol, holstered it, and was about to ask, "Is it over?"

A hoarse voice came from afar.

Dior and the death knell both look up.

On top of the opposite container, a figure clad in dark silver armor slowly rose to his feet.

The huge red cross on his chest looked as if it were stained with blood, two longswords wrapped in bandages hung at his waist, and behind the mask, a pair of eyes burned with undisguised killing intent.

Azrael, the Angel of Death.

Armor of Sorrow, Sword of Redemption, Sword of Sin – the full set of gear.

"Son of Gotham, your end has come."

Just as Dio was about to step forward, a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Don't move."

Deathstroke drew his longsword from his back, took a step forward, and stood between Dio and the Angel of Death.

"I'll stall for ten minutes for you. A friend's price, one million. How about it?"

Dio did not hesitate; this was not the battlefield he had chosen for the Angel of Death.

"make a deal."

He turned and ran, rushing to the edge of the dock in a few steps, and then jumped.

Pfft!

His figure was swallowed up by the murky river water.

The death knell was held horizontally across his chest, and his single eye gleamed with murderous intent.

"Now, it's just the two of us."

""

>