Unlike Backlund, Tingen, Pulitzer Harbour, and other northern mainland cities, the colonists who originally planned to drain every resource on the colonial island would certainly not give the indigenous people excess gas, gas and other high-end resources. Both sides of the town streets Sparse street lamps sleep in the darkness. If you look carefully, you will find that these so-called street lamps are just candlesticks covered with glass, pitifully imitating the creations of the civilized world.
Surt walked on the dim streets, the red flames faithfully hovering beside the demigod, and the warm firelight drove away the cold and the danger hidden in the shadows.
As he advanced, Soult suddenly stopped and took advantage of his height to take in the entire mist in front of his eyes.
Within the scope of his gaze, waves of scalding fire rolled silently, and the thin mist boiled, revealing a mass of black shadows, followed by a dry, hoarse scream.
Surte suddenly stretched out his palm, and the burning flame split into four strands as if it were alive. He dealt with the other black shadows and rolled up a burning spherical object at the same time, and brought it back to Surte's hand.
"Head?"
Soult looked at the head in his hand that had lost its body but was still connected to the esophagus and vertebrae, and clicked his tongue unsteadily.
He regretted sending away all his subordinates and cannon fodder.
Different from the high-level paths of "divineer" and "thief", the ability of "hunter" is more focused on frontal combat and is not good at using clones to deceive opponents.
Of course, they also have their own methods. Starting from the "War Bishop", the "Hunter" commander has absolute control over his subordinates, and the operation of gathering and dispersing power is as simple as drinking water.
The subordinates controlled by their psychic network are the best cannon fodder for every general. It is common for them to use their strength to drive their subordinates to explore unknown dangers.
But at this time, whether it was for the sake of concealment or to eliminate more uncertain factors, Sirte could only use his own body to face these dangers.
With his five fingers slightly closed, Surte easily crushed the human head in his palm, and a cold light suddenly appeared on the surface of his skin, looking like a steel sculpture from a distance.
The "War Bishop" who had completely steeled himself no longer wasted any time, flames rose under his feet, and his whole body seemed to be integrated with the surrounding flames, and he quickly penetrated into the town surrounded by mist in front of him.
He ignored the streets and alleys sleeping in the darkness and stared directly at the only light in the building complex. The flames around him suddenly rioted, and the flood rushed forward like a ferocious beast, clearing all obstacles for his master.
But as the damp and gloomy fog became thicker and thicker, the demigod discovered that even if he had steeled his body in advance, he would inevitably have physiological reactions that he shouldn't have.
His wrinkled eyes narrowed in irritation, with tears streaming down his face, and his vision blurred for a moment.
Surte, who sensed the danger, immediately slowed down. The flames under his feet connected with the crimson waves, forming a closed crimson fireball from end to end, tightly surrounding himself.
When he opened his eyes again, he found that the flames around him had long disappeared, replaced by collapsed ruins that seemed to have been plowed by artillery fire. The sky was no longer dark. Although the gloomy clouds were still dense, the warm sunshine always occupied the sky. The outline gives comfort to travelers.
At this time, Surte finally saw the bodies with previously missing shriveled heads. They were hanging neatly on the lush banyan trees that grew strangely in the ruins. They had lost all moisture, and their skin was chapped, showing a dark gray color like cement. .
The strong gravity grabbed the "War Bishop"'s neck without any warning, as if a pair of invisible hands were constantly exerting force.
Surte's hole shrank to the extreme, no longer maintaining the steeliness of his body. Flames spread all over his body, and even his entire body became a part of the flames, turning into pure elements.
But even so, he could not get rid of the huge gravitational attraction at his neck, and the invisible flame at his head was gradually separated from the more red below.
Just when the gravitational force was about to separate the demigod's corpse, Surte suddenly regained his human form and looked calmly under the banyan tree.
The dream shattered silently, and Surte stood intact in the mist, surrounded by a sea of fire burning aimlessly without instructions.
"It seems you have figured out the danger here?"
He looked towards the direction where the banyan tree originally grew, and a lady with long chestnut hair was standing there with an unkind look on her face.
Bernadette, who did not carry any zero-level sealed artifacts, nodded, suppressed the disgust in her eyes, and said reluctantly:
"In order to fulfill my promise, I lost a very rare spiritual servant."
"Oh, if we can really find the 'Weather Warlock' characteristics, what are they?" Surte blinked, and then expanded the warning range of the flames, and the red waves even touched the front of Bernadette.
He looked at the illuminated telegraph office at the door, as if calculating how much effort it would take to destroy the building in one blow.
"But Your Highness..." Soult's eyes still stayed on the closed wooden door of the telegraph office, and his tone gradually became unkind, "I have also met the 'Weather Warlock' of the Sauron family, the real marshal.
"
"Although you may not feel comfortable hearing the word "visit", after all, that Her Highness revealed some insignificant information to me, so I must always maintain the lowest respect for her."
Surte narrowed his eyes to a slit, looking at Bernadette with danger in his eyes.
"In the trivial matters that His Highness revealed to me, he never mentioned that the 'Weather Warlock' has the ability to rip off people's heads."
Faced with Soult's questioning, Bernadette's expression remained unchanged.
"Perhaps this is Bansi's danger."
After looking at it carefully for a while, Soult suddenly shrugged, and the danger that had just emitted disappeared in an instant.
"Well, you are right, who made you the princess?"
He pursed his lips in the direction of the telegraph office.
"Now that you've discovered the danger, have you tried to open that door?"
Bernadette turned her body slightly and glanced at the wooden door that was banged by the wind, her blue eyes seemed to be covered with fog.
"That's where the danger lies."
She strengthened her spiritual transmission and her nerves were stretched to the limit.
After approaching the telegraph office, she had actually never stepped foot even one centimeter into the building. The scenes in the dream she had just constructed with the help of secret techniques were also crudely reproduced imitations based on Medici's descriptions.
If the red angel did not lie, then that ordinary wooden door is the switch that turns on the pollution.
But pollution often does not leak from just one channel. If Sirte was infected with the pollution behind the door before he died, the deal between Medici and me would be... Bernadette's eyes turned around and she found Su
Erte was looking at him with a playful expression, and the scorching fire wave had doubled in size.
"Your Highness..." Sirte crossed his hands, tapped his upper arms disorderly with his fingers, and smiled, "You are not the little girl you were back then. Do you know that pollution on this scale will not happen?"
Isolated by mere spirit servants?"
"If you really touched that door, how come your head was still on your neck?"
...
In the middle of the altar on the top of the mountain, a shriveled figure in a robe was being mercilessly devoured by flames. The red-haired young man stood in front of the corpse, letting the storm roar.
Dozens of corpses were scattered around the altar, clinging to the ground even in the strong wind. The red blood beneath them gathered into a sea, strangely flowing towards the only standing figure on the altar.
Medici, whose figure gradually solidified, lowered his head and looked at the corpse, which no longer contained any moisture, and looked at the face that was roughly similar to his own, with unstable emotions in his eyes.
"Your Highness the Red Angel."
The starlight briefly illuminated the top of the mountain where the eternal night reigned. Tristan knelt respectfully under the altar. Even Yin Fulin, who was inseparable from him, seemed to be touched by some deep memories imprinted in her soul, and slowly lowered her body.
The young-looking "ancient scholar" stared at the disappearing blood on the ground and sent his heartfelt blessings.
"Congratulations to Your Highness for getting rid of the curse of Tudor, the transgressor, and returning to the light of the Creator."
"Freedom, shine?" Red Angel shouted, his red eyes showing no emotion.
"They are just undead souls that are about to disappear. How can they have any freedom, and what qualifications do they have to enjoy the Lord's shining?"
She turned to look at the two demigods kneeling on the ground and raised her eyebrows.
"'Secret' doesn't have anyone under his command. Why send a little guy like you who has never heard of it?"
Tristan buried his head lower and his voice was deep.
"I was promoted to Demigod by my master only after the War of the Four Emperors. Before that, I was only lucky enough to witness the Red War under your command once, so naturally I will not be known to you."
Medici felt a subtle hint of interest, but showed no mercy.
"That is indeed the little guy."
"What did the 'God of Mysteries' say?"
Tristan finally raised his head, admiring the heroic figure of the Red Angel, with uncontrollable enthusiasm in his eyes.
"The Lord hopes that you can return to the side of the Creator, spread the wrath of the Creator, and serve as her sword, just like in the glorious days, based on the price the betrayer deserves."
"It is precisely for this reason that the Lord ordered me to come and help you take back your authority, and also ordered me, the temporary head of the Backlund Parish of the Aurora Society, to help you receive the power of your followers more quickly."
Medici listened silently to these heartfelt words, unmoved.
She was silent for a long time, her eyes moving from the corpse at her feet to the town in the distance, and finally looking at the giant dragon deep in the spiritual world that was about to merge with the flames and poisonous snakes, and shook her head.
"I still have one covenant that I have not fulfilled. After completing all this, I will return to the Lord by myself, without you and your Lord having to worry about it."
After saying all this, she breathed a sigh of relief as if she had been freed from some heavy burden.
The flames engulfed her body, and before disappearing, Medici raised her signature smile and raised her hand.
"But now that you're here, let's learn more about it and don't act like you haven't seen the world."
...
The mist on the street became thicker and thicker. Soult, who realized that the spiritual connection with his subordinates was cut off, did not change his expression and continued to put pressure on Bernadette.
"If you are really sincere about fulfilling our agreement, why not knock on the door yourself now? Your Majesty has left you a lot of inheritance anyway. I think it is enough to deal with the pollution behind the door."
heritage?
Bernadette had a sullen face and raised her palm to face Surte's disgusting face.
"It seems that you are going to completely fall out with me?"
"Are you sure you want to fall out with me here?"
Surte raised his eyebrows slightly, his body suddenly ignited with fire, and he let go of the last bit of false reserve.
Seeing the sea of fire approaching in the air, Bernadette lowered her outstretched palm again. The emotions in her blue eyes changed again and again, and finally she grabbed the air beside her under Surte's teasing gaze.
The door made of strong winds roared open. Bernadette looked at this old man who had had everything he wanted since the Sauron Dynasty and had served three dynasties of government, and she unabashedly vomited out her disgust.
"Careers, speculators, double-dealing bastards, you are the root of all corruption in the empire."
"Sulte, the way you keep calling me His Highness will only make me sick."
Surte laughed loudly and said in disbelief:
"My Princess, you have been a demigod for so many years, why do you still think like this, like a little girl?"
"Even if I am a speculator, a careerist, and the cornerstone of the empire, you don't really think that our great Majesty is so pure and pure, do you?"
"You blame all the collapse of the empire on us. Isn't it really just a little girl showing her temper?"
"You must know that His Majesty did not blame any of the things you scolded just now!"
Bernadette no longer paid attention to Surte's taunts. Instead, like a little girl, she grabbed a pale mask from the strong wind and fastened it on her face.
Soult looked at the gentle face with closed eyes, cursed secretly, and the flames under his feet immediately surged, lifting him and falling backwards at full speed.
But even so, he still did not escape the capture of the wind of the underworld, and the flames around him inevitably weakened, like a candle in the wind.
The uninhabited streets were stained with gray. As Sirte retreated with all his strength, another thick smoke came from nowhere, blocking his way back and sealing him in this dead zone.
The absolute suppression from the personality once again weakened the flames around Surte, and the sea of flames was only the size of a pond for a while.
"That's a good scolding!" The Red Angel who walked out of the flames whistled at Bernadette in an incoherent manner, with a smile that didn't deserve to be beaten, "What he said is indeed right, what you just said was too small.
It’s a girl.”
"Little princess, you don't have to be so lazy even if you are acting. I thought you were older."
Bernadette, who was hiding behind the pale mask, snorted. When the Red Angel appeared, she no longer persisted. She struggled to tear the soft face off her face. The lack of blood in her face looked no better than Surte's.
Where to go.
The Red Angel said no more, leaving behind the stubborn Bernadette, her figure faded and reappeared, ignoring the flames and walked to Surte's side.
She glanced up and down at the demigod who looked weak but not actually weakened much, and looked at the sky with a disdainful smile.
"Don't you want to know what the pollution is behind the door?"
"Open your eyes and take a look."
The giant dragon that had lost its horns roared loudly, pouring out the pain it had suffered, its wings torn by fire streaked across the ground, and the extremely high-temperature foehn wind instantly ignited the town.
Medici endured the torture from the depths of his soul, and the red flags between his eyebrows burned red.
But even so, her face was not distorted at all. Instead, she opened her arms eagerly.