Although she had a hand in causing this, she still felt shocked. It was, after all, different from anything she had experienced before since most of the blood came from one person.

In the past, to achieve victory, she would have made at least three people bleed to their deaths. Yet, now, the majority of the blood was Phaedrus’.

He applied pressure to his wound while standing upright. Most of his injuries were on his abdomen. The rest of his wounds were barely visible; all Bridget could see was how Phaedrus struggled to cover his stomach, which still emitted the heavy stench of blood.

That continued until his pants got soaked. His blood even dripped from the hem of his pants, pooling on the ground outside the backdoor.

Bridget furrowed her brows, feeling conflicted about what to do. She would have to cross the blood puddle if she wanted to walk over to the enemy like a regular person. Doing so would stain her literally and spiritually.

Alternatively, she could always use her abilit