The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1057 Ch.1056 The Best Thief
'No--!!!'

James Shelley wailed loudly from a short distance away…

No.

This is just Rose's fantasy.

When he activated that artifact, there was nothing he could do—

They were not allowed to speak, move, or even make any frightening whimpers through their throats.

He looked at Rose quietly, tears streaming down his face like a coward, as if he hadn't shed a tear in ages.

James Shelley never shed a tear again after his thirtieth birthday—the last time he cried was because of pepper on his eyelid.

Do not…

It shouldn't be like this.

The skin on James Shelley's forearm gradually peeled away, revealing ivory-colored bone, and Rose could no longer hide her painful screams.

"Coaster's Silent Grip" does indeed possess extraordinary 'binding power'—and the price is naturally worthy of being 'extraordinary'.

The first thing to be crushed was Rose's foot bones.

A hand, also covered in lividity, kneaded it like an overfried pastry, gently crushing it: mixed with the muddy flesh and blood, like the exclamation of an artist who spends all day in mud.

A pretty, undercooked little meat patty.

James Shelley gazed at his 'daughter'.

As his forearm grew increasingly hot, and even the tears in his eyes were no longer under his control, he suddenly remembered their adventure, the curse the alien creature had uttered before it died after they had paid a heavy price and lost countless lives to kill it.

it says:

My body will give you strength.

But when you use it to kill your enemies, you will suffer more than your enemies.

In his final conversation with Banks in the dream, Shelley didn't truly believe the thing could cause him any 'pain'. He simply felt that no longer being a 'High Ring' himself, he shouldn't possess those more 'eye-catching' artifacts—as for this dragon tooth…

Indeed, once activated, its "isolation from mystery" feature will inevitably make it the final card in the battle.

Ten minutes startup time.

But James Shelley believed that there was always someone around him who could buy him ten more minutes…

Delay for ten minutes...

ten minutes…

but! !
Lillian!
It can't be his Lillian!!

Benefactor above! He is the goddess who is forever cunning and insatiably greedy!

Why his Lillian?!

Why is this happening? !
It should be someone else!
James Shelley knew perfectly well what Rose had bought at the "Slaughter Club"—he certainly understood the price that the "Silent Grip of Coster" would take to sustain it.

He didn't pay much attention to it at the time.

With him and Tom around, Lillian has no need for it...

time.

faster!
Faster!!

James Shelley kept urging his increasingly hot arm in his mind.

then.

He saw another plume of blood mist explode.

It is Lillian's other foot.

The girl lay face down in the blood. No matter how much the pain made her body tremble and convulse—a pain she shouldn't have to endure—she refused to let go of the hand clasped with 'Coaster'.

She almost ground her teeth to powder, letting out a whimper like a dying beast—not sharp, but rather rough and hoarse like a man's.

This is the manifestation of all living beings after they have reached the end of their suffering.

soon.

In James Shelley's despair.

Her two calves were also crushed by several blue hands.

Lots of cheerful laughter filled the air.

It had been a long time since anyone had activated this strange object for such an extended period—the vengeful spirit residing within it was so delighted it longed to kiss the resolute and stubborn user. Unfortunately, it could not, and could only repeatedly rub the shattered, nerve-wracking bones with its palms, crushing them inch by inch.

then.

It reached the thigh.

A faint light shone in the dimly lit room: from James Shelley's arm.

It illuminated their tattered clothes, the despair on their faces, the burnt, ornate satin, and a young girl who was willing to sacrifice herself for a father who was not her biological father but was more than a father to her.

In the grand oil painting on the wall, meant to appease people, one after another, indistinct saints kneel and hold up the silver cross that is incomparably holy and noble in their hearts—below the painting, a pitiful old man cannot even whimper like a dog.

He could only watch quietly.

Like that dragon before it died, calmly gazing at what it absolutely did not want to lose.

then.

Rose's pelvis was crushed.

The time from the soles of the feet to the pelvis is not long, but for James Shelley, Rose, or Thomas Terry, who was still 'conscious' in the room, it was long enough.

It was so long that some people escaped hell, while others just missed escaping it.

“James…”

The excruciating pain of her pelvis being crushed finally brought tears to the eyes of the girl who had managed to stay strong for several minutes.

She cried weakly, gripping his hand tightly, and struggled to lift her face to look at the old man, whose radiance seemed to have vanished. "James..."

she whispered.

Actually, I'm not... not yours...

He gasped for breath.

The girl, whose stomach was empty, couldn't vomit any blood or filth; she only gagged a few times.

"I am not your daughter."

She took a deep breath and spoke quickly.

The stone has finally fallen to the ground.

She smiled.

"I'm just a... liar thief..."

James's tears were about to burst out of his two wrinkled and sunken eyeballs.

But he couldn't say anything.

'I know you aren't, child—but who cares?'

He should say these things now, while the opportunity still exists…

But all they could do was watch quietly.

"I'm fed up...you...you guys...watching too closely..." After the girl's abdomen and lumbar spine were crushed, her life finally entered its final countdown—she herself seemed to know this, and her speech quickened considerably: "If it weren't for old Tom watching me, and Pie, Pie the maid watching me all day long..."

She took a deep breath, trying to control her facial muscles, which were already out of control, and to express what she perceived as disgust and malice.

That's just what James sees as cute.

And sadness.

"...It wasn't him...I would have stolen your...property long ago..." She mimicked the expressions of her aunts when she was young, cigarette dangling from their lips as they leaned against the door, trying her best to imitate them perfectly: "Roland...several times I wanted to tell...you...I...wanted...to enjoy...Shelley's...wealth...to inherit...after you die..."

She couldn't continue speaking.

Her chest cavity was crushed.

but…

It can be considered a success, right?
Thus.

If James hates me, he won't be saddened by my death—nor will he blame Roland for deceiving him.

Nice job.

London's best thief.

She frantically tried to organize her thin thoughts, while a series of chilling praises reached her ears.

Even the vengeful spirits residing within the artifact were surprised by the 'stubbornness' of this current owner.

The pain gradually faded away.

Rose felt herself floating... no, she couldn't 'leave' yet—the girl subconsciously clenched that cold, broad hand.

Even if only one arm remains.

Some of the dust gradually became visible to the naked eye.

Before Rose's skull was completely crushed, she struggled to lift her face, which was now incredibly ugly from having her jaw torn open by the blue hand—still staring intently at the motionless Thomas Terry with her pair of emerald eyes.

She suddenly let out an uncultured, old-fashioned roar, as if she had inexhaustible strength and courage—which caused the restraints binding Thomas Terry and the other puppets to tighten once more.

Until her vocal cords were far away from her.

Until her neck and head separated.

It was pulled off by the scalp.

But she seized it, and finally earned the full reward of the gods.

Not just those who perform rituals.

It is a resounding, radiant fruit that every mortal can pluck—when they withstand the test, transforming their invisible courage into a tangible blade, tearing through the veil of fear...

They will never tremble again.

Everything terrible, whether spiritual or material, will be thrown into the blazing furnace of their hearts, becoming the force that drives the flames of their rage.

This is a power that mortals can always master.

firm.

brave.

sacrifice.

Whenever someone activates it, even the gods in the heavens fall silent amidst its roars.

'what is that? ’

'The courage to defy death.'

Where did it come from?

'fear.'

What are you afraid of?

Fear of loss.

The lingering laughter of the vengeful spirits in my ears gradually faded away.

Besides the shattering sound of her skull exploding, what overwhelmed Rose was a 'bell' that seemed poised to plow the earth into scorched marks:
It manipulated the dust of time that filled the room, gently blowing away all intruders that did not belong to the 'nest', those intruders not recognized by the Dominator.

They also took away one of London's best thieves of all time.

(End of this chapter)