It is late at night, the bright crescent moon hangs in the night sky, countless tiny stars shine, and all the stars arch the moon.
In the valley of the deep mountain, there is a piece of land surrounded by jagged black stones, both natural and artificial, with different shapes, glowing with a faint black cyan luster in the moonlight.
Most of these black stones have dense holes, and when the night wind swept past, they made a penetrating whimper one after another. Among the piles of black rocks, the nihilistic light and shadow are intertwined, as if some invisible monster lurks in the darkness, struggling to get out, which is creepy.
The bonfire is burning.
That huge, red flame as huge as a house burned in the dark night, spewing clusters of flame tongues into the night sky.
At the foot of the scarlet flame is a large black-blue slate.
The hundreds of square meters of black and bluestone slabs were spread out on the ground, and it was an irregular circle.
There are countless lines carved on the slate, which are obviously carved by people, and the lines are exquisite and without the slightest error. Those carved lines that meander the entire black bluestone slab, like patterns, patterns, and runes, with an indescribable mysterious atmosphere, when you look deeply, there is an inexplicable feeling that the whole soul will be sucked in. terrifying feeling.
The lines carved on the black slate should be the same color as the slate, but in the reflection of the firelight, the edges of those lines are faintly showing a little blood red color.
That is the blood that has been running down the lines for a long time and stained on them.
The looming blood color under the firelight made this black and bluestone slab more and more revealing a dash of intimidating gloom.
At this moment, it is like a greedy monster from the dark abyss, opening its big mouth and devouring the flesh and soul it longs for forever.
The man in black robe stood quietly in front of the bonfire, the fiery light reflecting on him, but strangely unable to drive away the shadow on his body.
His face has been hidden in the darkness, and no one can see its appearance.
He stood by the bonfire with his hands down, motionless, like a pitch-black slate erected around the bonfire, and he could not feel the breath of life from him.
It wasn't until those mad believers came from a distance and brought the sacrifice he saw, that the black-robed man finally made a move.
He turned his head and looked in that direction.
The face hidden under the hood of the robe was hard to see, but the turbulent air could feel the heat of his eyes at this moment.
A soft seat made of wicker was carried by four believers and slowly walked towards the altar.
Young children sit quietly in it.
In the dark night, the child's pale blond hair and snow-white skin were exceptionally conspicuous, and seemed to glow slightly under the light of the fire.
Because he had just been forcibly pressed into the lake to clean himself, the pale golden hair that fell on his cheeks was still a little wet, and occasionally a little drop of water dripped on Garlan's cheeks.
The dust and dirt that had been stained while running away had also been washed away, revealing her fair skin.
The female believers who were in charge of helping him cleanse him after washing him, and then changed him into a new dress. The clothes that had been worn out in the past few days were thrown away, and he is now wearing the same dark clothes as these believers. Cyan clothes.
It's just that it's not a robe, it's a sleeveless robe. Let his neck, small chest, as well as hands and legs are exposed in the dark night. Garlan could probably guess the reason why these parts of him were exposed.
Sitting in the chair, Garlan gritted his teeth and tried to move, but his body was so soft that he couldn't even move his fingers.
Those people forcibly poured him a cup of potion. I don't know what it was. After drinking it, he couldn't exert any strength. His body seemed to be completely paralyzed. come over.
The back suddenly became cold, as if a chill was coming, and Gallan looked up.
His breath was slightly suffocated, because he saw the black-robed man slowly walking towards him, which made his heart tremble.
The man's gaze was fixed on him, as if looking at a lamb to be slaughtered.
The man in black robe nodded slightly towards this side, and then, the two mad believers standing next to each other grabbed one of Garlan's arms and stood up on his back, almost holding him to the ground. The man in black robe went.
The man in black robe stood on the spot and stretched out a hand from the tightly wrapped black robe.
A female believer next to him stepped forward, knelt down at his feet, and held a black wooden plate. There was a quill on it, and a small saucer of blood-red paint.
The abnormally pale hand held the snow-white quill on the plate, stained with the blood-red color. The man in black robe leaned over and used that pen to carefully and meticulously draw complex and mysterious blood-colored runes on the skin of the child in front of him.
First the calves, then the arms, and finally the neck.
Usually, the runes for sacrifice are drawn by the mad believers on the sacrifice in advance, but this time, this important sacrifice must not be wrong at all, so he did it himself.
After the black-robed man put the red-stained quill pen back on the wooden plate, almost all the exposed skin on Garlan's body was filled with dense blood-red patterns.
The snow-white skin is lined with the bright red pattern like blood, and the crimson fire is reflected, giving people an extremely strange feeling.
He wanted to struggle, but he couldn't move his body, so he could only be supported by two people next to him, standing in front of the bonfire.
The man in black robe reached out to him, his fingers quickly changing various gestures in front of his eyes.
He didn't know what the other party wanted to do, just frowned and looked suspiciously at the hand that was moving in front of his eyes.
After a while, the hand suddenly stopped.
He heard the man in black robe laugh, the laughter was low, and there was a vague sense of satisfaction and joy.
"As expected of a… "
The man in black robe retracted his hand and said, "The power of God can't confuse you."
Garlan was stunned for a moment, then instantly understood.
He remembered the sacrifice he saw for the first time. The child stood on the altar with blank eyes. Even if his hands and feet were cut, he didn't move, and even when his throat was finally cut, he didn't move. .
Come to think of it, the child was probably caught in something similar to hypnosis.
And just now, the black-robed man also wanted to hypnotize him and let him, like the other children, voluntarily let them bleed. But for some reason, it didn't seem to work for him, so the man in black robe gave up.
The two male fanatics next to him held Garlan with one hand and grabbed Garlan's hand with the other, so that he stretched both hands forward and stretched out in front of their high priest.
The black-robed priest took the golden dagger brought up by the believers kneeling at his feet. He held the golden dagger that cast the symbol of the religion of all things in both hands, placed it on his forehead, and whispered a few prayers.
Then, with a wave of his hand, he cut Garlan's wrist with a golden dagger.
Fresh blood flowed out, flowing over the blood-red pattern on Garlan's wrist, dripping down the slender arm, dripping drop by drop on the black bluestone slab where Garlan was standing.
The dripping blood instantly merged into the lines carved on the stone slab, and slowly flowed forward along the winding lines, filling the dry, hungry carvings little by little.
The firelight was shining, and the dim glyphs seemed to light up abruptly when they touched the blood flowing, as if a hideous monster moved and woke up little by little.
At the same time, the long, soul-stirring singing of the man in black robe sounded in the dark night.
He stood before the bonfire, holding up his pale hands, the blood-stained golden dagger in his right hand.
His low voice was not loud, but at this moment, it seemed as if there was an invisible force spreading his trembling voice from the bottom of the heart across this land.
Countless believers in black robes knelt down reverently around the bluestone slabs, threw themselves on the ground around the bonfire, and buried their faces on the ground.
The wound cut by the man in black robe was neither light nor severe, just enough to allow blood to flow out slowly.
Garlan was standing on top of the bluestone slab with his hands raised in the air.
He couldn't move, he could only watch helplessly as his wrist continued to bleed, like beads with a broken thread, falling drop by drop in the dark night.
Immediately afterwards, his ankle hurt badly.
The man in black robe who finished reciting leaned over and cut his ankle this time.
Garlan couldn't see his feet, but he could feel the warm liquid gushing out of the sharp pain and flowing over his heels.
The world in front of him began to shake erratically, and the excessive blood loss made him feel dizzy.
Not only that, in addition to the severe pain of being cut on his body, there was some kind of indescribable fear that gripped his heart tightly.
In this oppressive darkness, in the strange blood-red eyes, he had to watch his blood flow continuously... He had to feel the blood in his body flowing out little by little, with his own blood flowing. Together, the vitality fades away little by little...
This feeling of dying slowly is a very long and terrifying process.
This extreme sense of fear can almost drive people crazy.
Did this time die in this way at the hands of such a guy
he thought in a trance.
... It would be better to die at the hands of Heimos.
The vision began to blur, as if even the oxygen was gradually losing. Garlan felt his breathing began to quicken, and his chest heaved more and more violently.
The fire in his sight was fading, and darkness came, slowly eroding him and taking away the light in his eyes.
The child's once bright golden eyes had completely dimmed at this moment, and the drooping eyelashes cast a dark shadow on the bottom of his eyes, like an ominous omen looming over the pupils that had slowly opened.
Huymos…
asshole.
You are not talking.
He scolded Heimos in his last consciousness, and Garlan was completely plunged into darkness.
boom!
The bonfire flickered violently suddenly.
It was at the moment when the blood flowing down the winding glyphs touched the bottom of the bonfire, and in front of the man in black robe who raised his hands and chanted loudly, it suddenly rushed towards the sky and burned fiercely.
An extremely subtle shadow that ordinary people can't feel emerges from the fiery flame.
The chanting stopped abruptly, and the man in black robe looked at the shadow in the flame, and his whole body shuddered with excitement.
In such a long time, in such a long time, for the first time, he felt the breath of the God he served with all his heart.
Even just such an invisible breath had already made him ecstatic to the extreme.
God-
Tim Art! O Goddess of creation!
After a long time, you are finally awakening from the abyss of death!
Oh my God!
Did you hear—
Your humble and loyal followers will give you all—
The ecstasy made the man in black robe tremble with excitement.
He thought, sure enough, offering this sacrifice was the most correct thing to do.
Now, all he had to do was sacrifice this precious sacrifice, all flesh and soul, to his god—
Thinking of this, the man in black robe couldn't wait to turn around and walk towards the sacrifice.
The child who was being held was bleeding a lot, with a weak breath, and hung his head weakly. The pale blond hair wet with sweat seemed to have lost its luster at the moment, and was scattered messily on the bloodless cheeks.
The man in black stood in front of Garlan, grabbed Garlan's blond hair with one hand, and grabbed his drooping head.
The child whose hair was being pulled was forced to tilt his head back, and his weakly parted lips reflected the flames of the fiercely burning bonfire in front of him.
At this moment, the child's throat was exposed to the sight of the man in black robe, and the dense blood-red patterns were printed on the snow-white neck skin, making it even more slender and fragile.
The face of the black-robed man hidden in the shadow of the hood showed a frenzy look at this moment.
The blood-drenched golden daggers flashed golden-red in the firelight.
The pale hand of the black-robed man waved in the air.
The golden dagger swept a cold light in the dark night, and stabbed Gallan's throat fiercely—
A little cold mang came first.
Then arrows like lightning.
Like a white light that suddenly cuts through the night—
The black-robed priest let out a low roar, his right palm was pierced by the arrow, and blood spurted out.
The golden dagger, which had only had time to cut through a layer of shallow skin on Garlan's neck, was knocked out by the arrow, spun around in the dark, and fell to the stone slab with a clatter.
Everything happened too fast, the man in black robe whose palm was pierced by a sharp arrow has not recovered yet, followed by another sharp arrow that broke through the air.
The slightly smaller arrow pierced the wrist of his other hand, and the severe pain caused him to subconsciously loosen the hair of the child he was holding.
Holding up his two hands that were pierced by sharp arrows one after another, the man in black robe turned around abruptly.
The next second, his pupils hidden under the hood suddenly dilated.
I saw that under the moonlight, in the bright firelight, a tall and burly figure came on horseback.
That person is like a thousand troops galloping forward on the ground.
The momentum is terrifying and unstoppable.
The dark horse that came galloping in the dark night was incomparable, but in the blink of an eye, it galloped from afar to the front of the man in black robe.
It raised its hooves high, stopped abruptly, and made a high-pitched neighing sound like a dragon's roar.
The golden-brown hair of the tall man on the horse fluttered in the dark night, like an angry brown lion.
His scorching eyes were like coals of fire, with terrifying oppressive force, he looked down at the black-robed priest under the horse condescendingly.
The man in black robe standing under the tall horse was trembling.
No one saw it, but his hand hidden under the black robe was shaking uncontrollably.
Before the man standing before him on horseback—
Before this king of Aaron Landis—
It was a figure that made all believers of the religion of all things tremble.
Like a majestic mountain standing between heaven and earth, no one can shake it.
King Camos.
The hero of Aaron Landis.
A few years ago, he strangled the entire religion of all things with iron and blood, which made all followers of the religion of all things hate him, but he was also afraid of it from the bottom of his heart.
A few years ago, the scene of the unmatched, terrifying lion-like killing of the king was deeply imprinted in the hearts of every believer.
That is a power that cannot be resisted even by the power given to them by God.
They could not confront the king head-on.
Because the breath of the young king's golden iron horse that was killed from the mountain of corpses and blood is enough to crush and smash all the power of darkness.
The king who has just reached the sun is like a blazing sun.
All kinds of sorcery and ghostly tricks will all be wiped out under the fierce sun.
Even the dark power from the abyss of hell could not contaminate this resolute king.
—The place where King Camos goes is the place where the sun shines, and all shadows will have nowhere to hide —
The man in black robe stood under the tall black horse, and he raised his arms as he watched the young king who terrified him just ride on the horse.
King Camos looked down at him as if he were looking at an inferior ant surviving in the dark.
He didn't even bother to look at the true face of the black-robed man under the hood, and he raised his hand and swung his sword cleanly.
The huge blade cut a cold light in the dark night.
Blood light rose from the sky, and the head of the man in black robe was cut from his body, along with the hood that he had never taken off.
The head wrapped in black cloth rolled in an arc in the air, spreading blood in the air along the way.
Suddenly, another horse came galloping.
A young man crouched on the back of a horse, and the speed of the horse was pushed to the extreme by him.
He just happened to be galloping under the tumbling head in the air, so the blood from the high-altitude head splattered a little on his cheeks, staining the corners of his eyes.
The golden red eyes stared straight ahead, as if Heimos, who didn't feel the blood splashed, galloped forward on his horse.
The next moment, the long sword in his hand split two traces in the air.
The arms of the two believers who were holding Garlan, who had passed out due to excessive blood loss, spurted a lot of blood instantly, and their shoulders broke apart in their own screams.
The body of the blond child, who lost its support, fell forward limply, and was about to fall to the ground.
Above the galloping horse, Heimos leaped and dismounted.
The horse that lost its rider continued to gallop forward, sinking into the depths of the night.
And the dismounted boy almost fell to the ground with his knees bent and kneeled on the ground.
His hands stretched forward suddenly, and he embraced Garlan, who fell limply forward, into his arms—