The Achila's eyes widened for a moment to look forward. A few drops of blood ran down from the Valentine's right hand while he was holding a small dagger made of silver.
- Abel - the voice of Valentine was not exactly calm - I told you to take care of what was happening outside, did not I?
- I could not just let you have fun with them. Our deal was that I would kill them, remember?
- You would kill them only if all the orders I gave you were done, but they were not.
Abel gritted his teeth to hold back a growl, but this expression has not gone unnoticed by the other.
- Get out of here immediately. This is an order.
- You're nobody to give me orders, Valentine! The only reason I have accepted everything that you planned and said till today was because I saw in you an admirable example of intelligence I've ever seen. However, no one gives me orders!
- If so, then I must tell you that you are no longer useful to me. A puppet who does not obey is nothing more nothing less a problem.
Achila and Blake looked at each other. Valentine apparently had lost interest in them at the time to punish Abel.
- Valentine, what are you thinking? We have an alliance, you can not in any way point a gun at me.
- I do not have any kind of alliance with you from now on.
- Valentine, you're rushing.
- No, I'm not. There are times I'm waiting to say this and finally this day has come: die, Abel.
Valentine prepared two arrows to pierce the white armor of Abel. This, in turn, was paralyzed by the indifference with which the noble archer had broken the alliance and was now ready to kill him.
In this moment of distraction, Valentine did not hesitate to shoot the arrows. Abel was able to use the sword to protect himself, but did not pay attention to the movements of his former ally, who had made a subtle nod to an archer who were on the wall.
The white armor of Abel began to be dyed red, and the hall floor. He panted, leaning on his sword as he tried to regain his balance. The pain he felt was great in order to make him lose part of his senses.
- That's really pathetic. - Valentine looked at Abel with contempt while preparing an arrow made entirely of silver - Die, naughty puppet.
Abel fell dead in his own pool of blood, with the silver arrow pierced into his head. Soon, his body turned into ashes and to mix the blood, making Valentine feel sick.
- I want that someone will get the blood of this damn of my way right now. This makes me sick.
Valentine heard hurried footsteps in the hallway to his left. Of course, the brothers take advantage this chance to escape. He saw the trail of blood belonging to Blake Allucard and chains that bound the girl were all broken.
- Lord, will we go takethem back?
- Let them. In the state in which the boy is the most they can do is get to the gates. If she wants him to stay alive, then both will have to go back - he looked at the soldier - No, I do not need more of them, this war is already won for me. Do you know what I mean?
- Yes sir.
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