Turing was like a small mountain, pressing down on the skull aggressively and directly.

Driven by the boiling blood within, Turing's lion claws and beast hooves were as sharp as steel needles on a chariot, ruthlessly colliding with the crystal skull and sending it flying uncontrollably, shattering into countless pieces in midair.

However, the oddly shaped spikes on the crystal left Turing with countless tiny wounds.

Although these wounds were quickly healed by Turing, numerous black blood splattered from her swiftly moving body.

Mixed within the turbulent gusts of wind, they resembled a fire tornado rising out of nowhere in the Red Sea.

A trace of blood seeped into Turing's body, staining Merka's face.

Merka absentmindedly licked his lips, a strong oily smell rushing through his nostrils and into his brain.

"...Turing, you're hurt?"

Merka was familiar with this blood's taste.

This blood, mixed with the scent of gasoline, he had smelled it countless times in Polis—it was the distinct blood of an angel.

Merka couldn't believe it; he was well aware of Turing's strength.

It was hard to imagine any magic in the world that could easily pierce through Turing's tough exterior.

Turing was truly weakened; this was not Merka's illusion.

The bullet fired from the pistol in London that day possessed mysterious power far beyond what Merka had predicted.

It not only significantly diminished Turing's once unrivaled strength but also shattered some component of Turing's character.

Turing had surely endured unimaginable pain because of this incident.

"No."

"I don't need to get hurt dealing with these small fries."

Though Turing's words of determination pained Merka, he knew it was not the time for such things.

The immediate priority was to find a solution.

"Turing, why can't you use magic to clear the way directly?"

"Can you do it with your power?"

Enduring the reckless turbulence within Turing's body, Merka forcibly calmed himself and began to contemplate a strategy.

"No, it's too narrow here."

"I'm not as tough as before... my magic is too powerful. If I use it recklessly, I'll hurt myself—and more importantly, I'll hurt you."

Upon hearing Turing's words, Merka pondered for a moment.

"...Wait."

"aside's purpose should be to put you in a desperate situation, but its methods are too gentle now."

"How much magic power do you have left now?"

Merka suddenly realized something and quietly inquired of Turing.

"...Seventy percent."

"Hiss."

Merka gasped in surprise.

Indeed, aside's true intent was just as he had suspected.

It did not aim to directly kill Turing but to manipulate those machines to exhaust Turing's magic power through exchanging injuries.

If he were to plan how to deal with Turing, he would certainly do the same.

Turing was quick to anger, straightforward; a slight provocation and she would easily fall into a trap.

Calculating that a one-third depletion in magic power at each level, they could definitely kill Turing by the fourth level.

Once an angel's magic ran out, losing the ability to self-heal, it could be said that they were waiting to be slaughtered.

"What's wrong, Merka, should we continue upstairs?"

Sensing the sudden silence from the boy inside him, Turing's heart leaped to her throat. Her previously unstoppable pace slowed slightly, as if waiting for Merka's response.