Sacrifice's Rise: I Became Invincible After Entering Godslayer Temple

Chapter 336  Chapter335-A Farce, Take Me Home

"It's alright, Amelia... I'll protect you... We need to leave here quickly..."

John held Amelia close, trying to calm her racing heart.

Once he was sure her emotions were stable, he gently took her hand and cautiously led her out of the room.

Together, they silently moved through the corridor, staying out of sight of the terrorists.

They'd barely gone a few steps when John felt a sudden chill. Instinctively, he pulled Amelia close.

A dark shadow streaked past them, accompanied by a sharp whistling sound.

Shielding Amelia, John squinted into the distance.

A figure slowly came into focus.

The man looked rather sleazy, with beady, triangular eyes and a sharp chin.

Dressed in black, he wielded a dagger that gleamed coldly in his hand.

Amelia's eyes widened in shock.

She hadn't seen where the man had come from.

One moment there was nothing, and the next, a man stood before them.

It was beyond Amelia's comprehension.

"Quite the reflexes, eh? Boy, who gave you permission to take her from right in front of me?"

The man in black twirled his dagger, his voice dripping with mockery.

John spared him a glance before turning his attention to the noise behind them.

The armed terrorists had noticed the commotion and were swiftly approaching.

Seeing John and Amelia, their expressions shifted to one of surprise.

Wary, they aimed their guns at the duo.

Amelia, petrified by the menacing looks on the terrorists' faces, hurriedly nestled further into John's embrace, her body trembling slightly.

She likely felt all hope was lost and believed their fate was sealed.

"Stand back, all of you. Leave this one to me,"

The sleazy man in black seemed to hold a higher rank than the terrorists.

At his command, they hesitantly lowered their guns.

But before they could turn to leave, John's calm voice resonated, "Since you're here, you might as well stay. All of you."

The eyes of the terrorists flashed coldly, glaring fiercely at John.

The man in black couldn't help but laugh unabashedly, "Ha! You really are brimming with blind confidence. If I'm not mistaken, you must be one of those specially trained soldiers, right? Otherwise, you couldn't have evaded my dagger earlier. But your combat skills? In front of me, you're nothing but a clown."

"Boy, today I'll show you that there are always bigger fish in the sea, and more skilled people out there!"

His voice was full of arrogant pride, as if he saw himself as an unparalleled warrior.

John smirked, then leaned down to whisper into Amelia's ear, "Close your eyes... The scene that's about to unfold is too gruesome for you."

Obediently, Amelia shut her eyes.

She had come to a realization; if death was inevitable, dying in the arms of the man before her wasn't the worst way to go...

With one arm cradling Amelia, John extended his other hand towards the sleazy man in black, making a simple gesture.

In an instant, the triumphant expression on the man's face froze.

The next second, the glint in the triangular eyes dimmed rapidly. He collapsed heavily onto the ground, blood gushing from his orifices, devoid of life.

This self-proclaimed master met his end without even withstanding a single move from John, taken out in mere seconds!

Strangely, this was John's first kill in the real world, and he felt no discomfort.

Could it be that deep down, he was a sadist?

John rubbed his chin, lost in deep thought.

The terrorists nearby were dumbfounded.

They never imagined their seemingly super-powered superior would fall so easily.

As they reflexively raised their guns to retaliate, John merely snapped his fingers, causing all of them to collapse, unconscious.

"Since all of you are mere mortals, I'll spare your lives," John murmured to himself. He then gently patted Amelia's shoulder, "It's okay, you can open your eyes now..."

So soon?

Amelia looked up in confusion, but the scene before her took her breath away.

Those menacing-looking villains were now all lying on the ground, their fates unknown.

Yet the man she had been concerned about stood unscathed.

Amelia blinked, trying to make sense of what had just occurred.

Before she could even pose a question, John took her hand and led her forward.

"While their comrades are still unaware, let's make our escape," he urged.

With no other exits available backstage, the pair needed to traverse the main hall to leave the opera house.

At this point, John saw no reason to hide.

He cast a skill that cloaked them in invisibility, using his divine power to clear their path.

Although he didn't possess the vast array of psychic interference techniques from the game, like the Soul-Devouring Devil Ghana, his divine power's psychic strength was formidable.

Interfering with the perceptions of ordinary people and those who had awakened certain player abilities was effortless for him.

Hand in hand, they strolled confidently through the rows of seats in the hall.

Everyone there seemed oblivious to their presence, as if they were ghosts.

Amelia's puzzlement only deepened.

But as her gaze shifted to the side of the stage, she caught sight of the executed hostages.

"Ah!" She let out a sharp gasp, only for John to immediately cover her mouth.

"Shush... Stay quiet. As long as we don't make a sound, they won't notice us," he whispered.

Trembling with fear, Amelia clung to John's arm.

Her face had turned a deathly pale.

She had never imagined witnessing such a grisly sight.

The corpses had their major arteries severed, reminiscent of slaughtered poultry, a scene of gory violence.

Meanwhile, the so-called "magician" continued selecting his victims, seemingly unfazed by the police surrounding the opera house.

As they moved, John weighed the option of taking all these terrorists down.

However, when his eyes scanned the crowd and landed on a familiar face among the hostages, he immediately dismissed the thought.

It was Shadowswift, who had previously appeared alongside Elder Anderson.

The presence of such a figure suggested this terrorist attack might well be under official control.

Perhaps it was all just a twisted charade...

Leaving the opera house behind, John walked Amelia through the streets.

The cacophony from the building faded into the distance, and the woman slowly regained her composure.

Still, the thought of the bodies made her shiver uncontrollably.

"I'm truly exhausted today," she sighed.

After a few more steps, Amelia suddenly looked up, forcing a smile through her weariness, "Mr. Foster, would you mind taking me home?"

John nodded gently.

Amelia resided in the north of the city, more specifically, a temporary abode she rented due to her extended work in town.

It was a cozy, small apartment, immaculately maintained and befitting a single young woman.

Upon reaching her door, as John was about to say his goodbyes, Amelia caught his arm unexpectedly.

"Come in for a coffee? As thanks for saving me... again." Before he could respond, she had already pulled him into the apartment.

But there was no coffee.

Instead, there was only Amelia, her body pressed closely against his, her slight trembling betraying the turmoil within her.

"John," her voice shaky, "I want you to stay here, even if just for tonight... I'm so scared, terrified of the thought that today could have been my end... scared of never having the chance to tell you certain things..."

"I'd give you everything, my most precious things, just in hopes you'd stay tonight..."

Amelia's voice cracked, filled with the weight of a decision she seemed to have struggled to make.

Yet John remained silent throughout.

Perhaps sensing his lack of response, Amelia looked up.

Her once alluring eyes now shimmered with unshed tears, adding a touch of vulnerability.

Maybe it was his impassive demeanor that brought a sense of shame to her.

Tears, in a blink, streamed down her face, tracing wet paths on her cheeks and dampening her lashes.

Her face tensed, "I'm sorry..." She released her hold, hastily wiping away her tears with a nearby towel, and stepped back.

"You really didn't have to offer yourself as a way of thanking me..." It seemed John had voiced the wrong words.

Suddenly, with a voice tinged with sorrow, Amelia exclaimed, "But I just couldn't help myself!" In frustration, she threw her towel to the floor and gave in to her tears.

John stepped forward, wrapping her into an embrace.

Amelia initially tried to wriggle free, but as John's grip tightened, she ceased her struggles.

She sobbed in his arms for a while, her cries eventually diminishing, yet her frame still trembled with muted whimpers.

John's rejection shattered the courage she'd mustered and imbued her with a profound sense of defeat.

Gently, John caressed Amelia's back.

Gradually, her body relaxed, her hesitant arms wrapped around his waist as she nestled her face into his chest.

The wetness from her tears seeped through his shirt, leaving a cold patch against his skin.

Amelia seemed to notice, pulling her face away and looking at the tear-stained fabric.

Gently dabbing at his shirt, her voice quivered, "I'm sorry... I've wet your clothes."

"Does this count as you getting fresh with me?" John teased, his face breaking into a warm smile.

"Oh, stop it!" Amelia playfully chided, snuggling back against him, her arms tightly wrapped around his waist.

A subtle scent, which John had previously not noticed, wafted into his nostrils.

Taking a deep breath, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to her forehead.

Slowly, Amelia lifted her face, eyes closed.

John traced his lips down the contour of her face, from her closed eyelids to her perfectly sculpted nose, planting soft kisses all the way.