Walking out of "Kavi Clock Shop," Angel, whose property had shrunk by one-third, was choked by the industrial exhaust gas in Oak District that exceeded particle standards, only then coming back to her senses, and in her heart surged a stifled feeling of being forced to buy and sell.
But touching the iron box in her arms containing the mystical item, she again comforted herself: This is a mystical item made from the extraordinary characteristic of Sequence 7, while even a Sequence 9 potion formula costs no less than 100 pounds!
Knowledge is money — she finally understood the meaning of this sentence.
Moreover, from the effect of the mystical item, she also confirmed one thing: that extraordinary characteristic fused with the revolver, that is, the extraordinary characteristic discharged when Cole died, was indeed "Witch."
The enhanced attack with accompanying flames was obviously the extraordinary ability belonging to the "Witch," but unfortunately Cole died from losing control during advancement, causing the extraordinary characteristic to be polluted, and the fusion process between the two should also have had some problems, leading to the weapon having only two abilities, and the side effects were very tricky.
Thinking of the mystical item in her arms, "crying for milk," Angel got a headache.
Before leaving, she asked Kavi whether ordinary animal blood could "feed" the mystical item, but got a disappointing answer.
"It consumes spirituality, and the blood it absorbs also needs to be rich in spirituality to remove the side effects. If you can find extraordinary creatures' blood, of course you can use it; otherwise, no matter how much ordinary animal blood, it's meaningless. Human blood is the most easily obtainable blood rich in spirituality — if it's the blood of Beyonders, that's the best."
"How much blood is needed to be enough? How do I know — you can only test it yourself, until it removes the current negative state. But don't try it here, don't die in my shop."
If chicken blood or duck blood can't be used, then she can only consider extraordinary creatures' blood, but extraordinary creatures aren't like cabbages — how could they be easily found?
Looking at the main ingredients needed by various potion formulas, you'd know that precious extraordinary creatures' blood is priced by the milliliter.
As for ordinary human blood, she could think of a way — for example, stealing some spare blood from the hospital… This era should already have the technology for preserving and transfusing human blood, right?
If really not, then use her own blood, but she would need to carefully test how much quantity it needs, lest before even using the mystical item, she herself dies from excessive blood loss.
Since you love fresh blood so much, I'll just call you "Bloodthirst"…
Angel thought bitterly, clutching the box containing "Bloodthirst," leaving Golden Avenue.
———
Returning to the Enmat Port Nighthawks squad base, the "Silver Bullet Detective Agency," it was already dusk.
Angel looked at her pocket watch — because she detoured to the hospital on the way back, the time outside had already exceeded four hours. Although the Enmat Port squad's captain Clement wasn't at the base, and the other few Nighthawks who came to assist wouldn't meddle, she still felt a trace of guilt.
Mm, only a trace.
Like a thief, she hugged "Bloodthirst," crossing through the first-floor hall, enduring the strange gazes from other Nighthawks passing time in the hall, returning to room 306 assigned to her on the third floor, tightly locking the room door, only then exhaling a breath of relief.
The room Daly gave her faced the street side; opening the window, one could see the bell tower of St. George's Church across the street. Even the decorative glass eroded by sea wind for years still flashed with colorful light under the sunset.
But at this moment, Angel had no mood to appreciate it — after carefully checking the window's seal, she drew the thick curtains, blocking out the street scene and dim sunlight, leaving only the flickering dim light of the gas lamp.
After once again confirming that the door lock was secured, she took out the box from her arms, almost warmed up by her body, placing it on the desk, along with a set of bloodletting tools she bought on the way back.
In this era, the basic concept of modern medicine had already formed; the ancient "bloodletting therapy" had been proven ineffective by many medical experts, but in various regions lacking medical resources, traditional treatment methods still had a place. Even regular hospitals offered bloodletting therapy services and tools for sale.
Thanks to such tools, she avoided the pain of cutting open her veins to draw blood.
Before returning to base, Angel hadn't completely dismissed the thought of taking blood from ordinary people to feed "Bloodthirst," but in the end, she gave up.
First, it was easy to cause a big stir, turning herself into an urban legend like a "vampire," and might even end up on the official Beyonders' blacklist.
Second, she couldn't harden her heart to do this — killing enemies in battle was one thing; randomly picking passersby to commit evil was another matter.
And after inquiring at the nearest hospital, she learned that due to the lack of long-term blood preservation technology in this era, patients needing transfusions could only find people willing to donate on the spot — freshly drawn, freshly used.
She could only settle for second best, buying a set of bloodletting tools, self-sufficient.
Carefully disinfecting her hands and the tools with alcohol, she endured the pain, using the metal needle with a rubber tube in her right hand to pierce the skin on the back of her left hand, puncturing the dorsal vein.
Watching her own fresh blood drop by drop flow out from the rubber tube, dripping into the transparent measuring cup, making faint sounds, Angel felt her body a bit cold.
It's said there was an ancient punishment where the prisoner's eyes were blindfolded, then their blood vessels were cut, letting the blood drip into a basin — the fear of being unable to see, the dripping sound in the ears, and the drop in body temperature from blood loss would make the prisoner feel a near-death sensation. Even if only a small part of the blood was let out, it could cause extremely intense fear, even scaring people to death.
Watching her own blood bit by bit flow out of her body, filling the glass cup, she suddenly understood this kind of fear.
While her mind drifted, the blood in the measuring cup exceeded the 400-milliliter line. Angel pulled out the needle, pressing on the back of her hand to slightly stop the bleeding, then took this cup of precious blood to the iron box containing "Bloodthirst." The separated blood would soon coagulate — if she didn't quickly perform the "feeding," her blood would be wasted.
The hypothermia and increased heartbeat from rapid blood loss made Angel shiver; the transparent glass cup in her hand trembled, the blood reflecting a dark red light under the lamp, a faint sweet metallic scent wafting into her nose.
400 milliliters was roughly 10% of human blood — the maximum safe amount for a single donation. She planned to first try with this safe amount; if it wasn't enough, she didn't plan to continue bleeding.
Her main purpose in coming to Enmat Port was to participate in the Nighthawks' joint operation — if she over-bled, affecting her body, and thus became unable to participate in subsequent missions, that would disgrace the entire Tingen City squad.
Lifting the metal box lid, the intense smell of blood gushed out from the gap, instantly drowning the faint metallic scent emitted by the cup of blood. She nervously glanced toward the door, not knowing if the tightly shut door and windows could block this odor — even if they could for a while, it probably wouldn't take long before others noticed.
Time waits for no one — Angel could only grit her teeth, lift the lid, and quickly pour the entire cup of fresh blood in.
The iron box wasn't big; after placing a revolver inside, there was almost no extra space. But the 400 milliliters of blood poured in didn't splash out a drop; it was instantly absorbed and devoured by the pitch-black revolver.
As the fresh blood was absorbed, the bloody smell in the room was like someone pressed a rewind button — in just a few seconds, it floated back into the iron box. Angel's nose once again picked up her own blood's faint sweet metallic scent, but soon after, even this scent disappeared without a trace.
The pitch-black, glossy revolver in the iron box had already changed from that mysterious, carapace-like appearance back to a metal-made gun body — even the grip's guard wood was the same. But the material was no longer the original brass; it was a deep-colored, almost black material, and looking closely, besides the metallic shine reflecting the lamp light, one could still see a trace of dark red on the gun body.
As if it was soaked through with fresh blood.
Angel quietly watched the dramatically changed revolver, waiting a few seconds. Seeing that no further changes occurred, she dropped the last few drops of blood from the measuring cup onto the gun body — the blood streaked down along the gun body, not being absorbed.
Only then did she relax, reaching out to grasp the gun handle — the cold surface and heavy gun body gave a special sense of security.
"Bloodthirst's" negative effect was finally removed under Angel's blood nourishment, becoming a mystical item she could normally use.
This revolver, like the one Angel originally used, was .45 caliber, loaded five rounds. After long-term use of inferior bullets and lack of maintenance causing the hammer to break, Cole had thrown it into a corner. Unexpectedly, after accidentally fusing with that extraordinary characteristic of unknown Sequence, even the broken hammer was automatically repaired.
Angel looked at the rifling — although still in a used state, compared to Cole's other revolver whose rifling was almost worn smooth, its condition could already be considered good. Considering the material had already changed, the hardness significantly increased — in the future, she probably wouldn't need to worry about rifling wear problems again.
Without hesitation, she took the .45 revolver at her waist, unloaded the bullets into "Bloodthirst's" cylinder, and packed the old revolver into her luggage.
From now on, "Bloodthirst" would be her main weapon.
With a "click" closing the cylinder, she resisted the urge to fire a test shot, stuffing the gun back into the holster at her waist.
Better go to the shooting range another day to test it — casually firing inside the Nighthawks' base, even if she wasn't caught as a traitor, it would make others mistakenly think a battle had broken out, causing unnecessary commotion.
———
Carrying all the star crystals in her luggage, returning to the first floor of "Silver Bullet," Angel found that the sunlight outside the window had completely disappeared, replaced by the crimson moonlight gradually covering the ground.
So, so much time had passed already…
The Pritz Harbor duo who were still in the hall when she returned in the afternoon were already gone. Ston's chatterbox man, Rupert Norman, had somehow gotten a pipe, sitting in the corner, breaking open cigarettes one by one, dumping the tobacco into the pipe, making the table full of scattered tobacco scraps.
Daly was talking with an unfamiliar man; seeing Angel come down from upstairs, she stopped the conversation and walked straight over.
"Just thinking where you'd gone, and you appeared — perfect, there's a mission… What's wrong with you, your face is so pale?"
Is my blood loss that obvious?
Angel stretched out her hand to look at her fingernails — the nail beds were indeed whiter than usual. It seemed losing 400 milliliters of blood had already caused a visible impact on her body.
Daly stared at Angel's slightly pale face, as if understanding something, suddenly realizing and lowering her voice to ask:
"You're on your period?"