"I knew it," Dr. 077's synthesized voice carried a hint of disappointment and disdain.
"Resurrection of the Dead is never that easy. If the ritual recorded in 'the dark codex' could perfectly revive the dead, it should have been called 'God's Gospel'."
He paused, his tone carrying a trace of mockery toward his superiors.
"But those decaying old fogies in The Council just won't give up. Even if there's only a sliver of ethereal possibility, they'll latch onto it like dogs chasing a bone, refusing to let go."
Victor listened with great interest from the side and immediately fanned the flames:
"Tsk, hearing that makes me feel frustrated for you. If I were you, I'd find a chance to take out those old prunes above you and just take the top spot myself!"
Dr. 077's mechanical head turned toward Victor, his optical sensors focusing coldly on him.
"A very tempting idea. But such low-level reverse psychology... C–136, do you think I'm an idiot?"
"Doesn't hurt to try." Victor shrugged, his smile bright and harmless.
"What if it works? Take a gamble, turn that bicycle into a motorcycle!"
"Bang!"
The dull sound of a staff heavily striking the ground interrupted this "rebellion" meeting.
Creston's face, so gloomy it looked like it might drip, turned toward these two juniors who completely disregarded him. His withered chest heaved violently.
"Are the younger generation nowadays... all this insolent?!"
Being so bluntly Scorned and ignored by the two, Creston felt his blood pressure, which had been dormant for centuries, soaring. It felt even worse than being sealed in a coffin.
Victor crisply raised a middle finger covered in the black symbiote toward him.
"Old man, times have changed. If you know what's good for you, crawl back underground and continue rotting. Don't come out to make a fool of yourself. Can't you see I'm busy fighting a hard battle here?"
He pointed to the surrounding battlefield where crossfire was still ongoing.
Dr. 077 also waved his hand in cooperation, his tone even sounding a bit impatient.
"My observation and data collection tasks are complete. Do whatever you want, just don't bother me. I have 'important matters' to attend to."
The disdain in their words almost became tangible, like two buckets of cold water poured over Creston's already icy body.
"You... people! You go too far!"
Creston was so angry his staff was shaking. He suddenly raised it, a glimmer of eerie light flashing in his cloudy eyes as he attempted to condense some dark spell—
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Four deafening gunshots rang out in rapid succession, almost simultaneously!
Four slugs accurately slammed into Creston's thin chest and staff. The massive impact sent him staggering back several steps, and the faint light he had just gathered instantly dissipated.
Wednesday Addams held a Benelli M4 shotgun, the muzzle still emitting wisps of blue smoke.
This gun was something Victor had gotten for her after the Poe Cup. According to him, since Enid had a Pink Desert Eagle, he couldn't play favorites.
Tsk, he certainly treated everyone equally.
She stepped forward, standing between Creston and Victor, her pitch-black eyes like an abyss, coldly staring at the ancient living corpse before her.
"Your opponent—"
Her voice was more piercing than the Siberian winter wind.
"Is me."
"Goody Addams!"
Creston steadied himself and stared fixedly at Wednesday. That familiar cold gaze and almost identical appearance instantly awakened the deep-seated hatred he had harbored for four hundred years.
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