Super Righteous Player
Chapter 808 - 347 Senior Vatore “Has Grown”

Chapter 808: Chapter 347 Senior Vatore “Has Grown”

Upon hearing Salvatore’s narrative, Annan suddenly became interested too.

"A puzzle that even Sister Vatore couldn’t solve?"

"Stop calling her ’Vatore,’ it really sounds weird... I feel like I’ve turned into a girl."

Salvatore complained casually, "And what’s with this ’older sister’ title? She’s my shadow, after all, we’re essentially the same person..."

"Of course, because in most cases, Sister Vatore is much more reliable than you, Brother Saul."

Annan said bluntly, "Aren’t you just a Vatore launcher? Distinguishing between brother and sister is obviously better for you—if not, it would just be Sister Saul and her male base."

"——Ahahahaha!"

A raspy, solemn voice rose from beside Salvatore.

Waves of liquid shadow condensed at his side behind him.

A female demon’s head, composed purely of shadows with sharp horns, sprouted from Salvatore’s left shoulder.

Her hoarse voice, echoing deeply, reminded Annan of Bai Yihu’s resonant neutral tone, "You are quite right, Your Majesty!"

Salvatore hurriedly swatted at his shoulder.

The tar-like liquid shadow was immediately pushed back—or rather, shied away on its own, reemerging from the other side of Salvatore’s shoulder.

"This idiot Saul’s body is so useless that it’s unfit to even serve as my vessel!"

The shadow, whom Annan had dubbed "Miss Vatore," burst into near-mad laughter, "When trouble arises, this idiot can only pitifully beg me for help, Your Majesty!"

"You bastard, get back in!"

Salvatore, flushed with irritation, gave the back of the shadow’s head a strong smack.

But his restraint over the shadow had clearly weakened a lot after his advancement. It was similar to the state Salvatore was in after he had injected the Philosopher’s Stone.

The shadow paid him no heed.

Instead, an oily, joint-protruding pure black demon’s hand stretched out from Salvatore’s chest. Once the hand parted from Salvatore’s body, it quickly dried... its texture resembling that of air-dried beef jerky.

It completely ignored Salvatore’s feeble effort to "hug" his own arm—instead, the skinny demon hand reached out toward Annan. Salvatore’s weak force could not shake the muscled right arm of the demon.

This made his stern reprimand sound more like a weak whine.

And this action from the shadow made Victor, who stood behind Annan and Kafney like a solemn butler, narrow his eyes slightly.

But Annan simply signaled him not to worry.

As Kafney let go of Annan, he rose and slightly adjusted his somewhat disheveled hair.

Then, he extended his left hand toward the demon.

"The Duke’s right hand must always tightly grasp the tricolored rod."

Annan said softly, "This hand... is it alright?"

"——Of course!"

The shadow’s hoarse voice with overlapping echoes rang out again.

This time, instead of a new head popping out of Salvatore,

the whole head retracted while the hand that emerged from the chest of Salvatore opened a toothed mouth at the palm, "As you say!"

It said, and the joints and bones in the hand immediately reversed—transforming the right arm into a left with a snap.

The mouth at the palm zipped itself shut and disappeared into the palm.

And as it shook hands with Annan, the entire upper body of "Vatore" emerged from Salvatore’s chest.

It was a demon composed entirely of pure darkness.

It had two curved horns, overly long arms that had to be folded, solid black sclera... and crimson vertical pupils.

This was unmistakably a non-human element.

Its entire arm was pitch black, but as it neared the shoulder, the color gradually faded to a light gray—as if it suddenly ran out of ink.

From the arm onward, it also had approximately three-fourths of Salvatore’s facial features but extremely feminized into a soft, beautiful face, unnatural batch-like pure black long hair that looked like tentacles... an unapologetically wild smile, delicate shoulders, and a full chest that was directly exposed.

—Demon and girl.

Two stark contrasts hatched into one within Salvatore.

"This is technically our second meeting, Your Majesty."

"Vatore" beamed an unguarded, delighted smile, "I really like the name you gave me."

"I’m glad you like it... I guessed you would come out."

Annan said gently, "So I wanted to ask you more about your specific circumstances."

"After all, you are much more reliable than Saul."

"Of course, hahahaha—"

"Vatore" laughed proudly.

Salvatore wore a mournful face, loudly complaining, "What are you so happy about, Annan was just being polite!"

"Idiot, it’s called a truism that sounds false! With your intelligence, you wouldn’t understand!"

The shadow pressed a hand on Salvatore’s head, turned back, and said even louder, pressing against his face, "Keep it down, idiot! Your constant struggling makes it difficult for me to emerge, you fool!"

"...but this is my body..."

Salvatore’s voice became aggrieved.

But he really didn’t resist the existence of "Vatore" any further.

"Vatore" clearly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Stay quiet!"

She ordered again.

Emerging half-bodied from Salvatore, obviously much more forcibly—the visible measure was that the "ink" on her body was gradually depleting.

Like a pen running out of ink from a nearly empty cartridge.

Starting from her shoulder, the boundary between black and gray gradually moved forward—toward her arm.

Such a posture, stuck halfway through emerging from Salvatore’s chest, was obviously not comfortable.

She propped her excessively grotesque left arm on a nearby sofa, shook her head to let down that batch-like long hair that seemed disguised as tentacles, and continued speaking to Annan, "Everything that fool Saul said was nonsense.

"He was just trying to show you that he wasn’t completely idle by making Philip’s matter sound mysterious. Just a way to elevate himself."

"Vatore" firstly indulged in a bit of "self-criticism," then explained, "Actually, we had already found out some results... approximately during the time he sent you that letter but before you arrived.

"Those nobles who pledged allegiance to the Prince Philip, that sweets-loving fatty, all have something in common."

After emerging, her voice became less deep but still hoarse and noisy. Rather, because her voice became clearer, the resulting sharpness became more pronounced.

"That is, they are all old men with one foot in the grave!"