Deep Sea Embers

Chapter 137: penetrate

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Fire, everywhere was blazing, or everywhere was ashes after the flames had died out, the church was destroyed by fire, the bell tower was destroyed by fire, and the city itself seemed to have been destroyed by fire.

The hot wind howled through the church square that had been burned to ruins, and the square was covered with flying ash. Tiny sparks fell from the bell tower, and the charred flags drooped and fell in the wind.

A tall figure wearing light armor stepped onto the square, holding a heavy, broad sword in his hand, which drew a series of sparks on the scorching ground.

The ends of Vanna's hair had been singed by the incredible heat in the environment, and her armor was damaged in many places. In some of the damaged areas, you could see the wounds that were still bleeding. The flesh in the wounds was wriggling and slowly healing.

She held a sword in her right hand and a huge miniature machine gun in her left hand. The heavy ammunition box was carried on her back. This machine gun was dismantled from a half-destroyed steam walker when she passed by the arsenal not long ago. It was quite easy to use.

The hot wind blew, and the smell of ashes penetrated into her nostrils. Vanna narrowed her eyes slightly, looking at the streets in the distance, and the thick smoke and red light slowly rising in the background of the streets.

In this "history", the entire Plande has been burned down.

The fire began to spread in 1889 and went unnoticed for eleven years until it burned the entire city and slowly burned the entire city-state into a state of ruins.

Even the power of the Storm Goddess had been severely distorted and interfered with—the longer Vanna stayed here, the more she found it difficult to feel the nourishment of the sea breeze.

It is easy to burn down a city-state, but it is difficult to burn it down without the gods knowing. Those heretics took advantage of the loopholes in history and might even use the status of the Black Sun to interfere with the gods' judgment of the world.

But... where are those heretics

A low, hoarse murmur suddenly came from the shadows of a nearby building. The murmur carried a blasphemous and malicious power. The shadow condensed out of thin air in the whisper, turning into a deceiving illusion. However, Fanna did not turn her eyes in the direction of the shadow and the murmur. Instead, she raised the six-barreled machine gun in her left hand and pulled the trigger in another direction where there seemed to be nothing.

A deafening roar exploded above the square, yellow bullet shells scattered like rain, tongues of fire swept through, and a tall and thin shadow suddenly emerged in the air. The shadow had been hidden in the gap between light and shadow, but was forced to show up at this moment. In a hurry, it could only use a large number of tentacles and the black umbrella in its hand to resist the oncoming barrage of bullets - and as it was resisting, the roaring waves suddenly exploded!

Fanna threw the giant sword in her hand, and the sword came down with the power of the storm, piercing the monster and carrying it ten meters away and nailing it firmly to the ground. Then she didn't care about the attacker who had been nailed, but turned around quickly, took a side step, grabbed and pulled out a twisted and deformed lamppost, and smashed the heavy steel to her side.

The second hidden attacker was knocked to the ground by a street lamp. His ugly head, like a bloody flower, shattered into a pool of rotten flesh. The remains of him struggled and squirmed violently on the ground until Vanna turned the muzzle of the huge miniature machine gun and the hot bullets swept through like a storm.

"A stealth attack in pairs... It seems your tactics have reached their limit."

Vanna muttered something, threw away the severely twisted and deformed lamppost, waved to the side and took back the Storm Sword, held the sword beside her with one hand, and continued to point the machine gun in the other hand at the monster's flesh on the ground as if executing it.

After a few seconds, she frowned.

"No regeneration?"

The young Inquisitor bent down and confirmed that the pile of debris that once belonged to the descendants of the sun was just lying quietly on the ground. Not only did it show no signs of regeneration, it was even beginning to rapidly lose moisture and activity, turning into a pile of shriveled charcoal at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Why is this? Why did these residues lose their ability to regenerate? Is it because their original bodies suddenly became weak? Or is it because these residues have been greatly weakened for some reason

Fanna looked at the scene in confusion and vigilance, then suddenly raised her head and stared at the street not far away as if she sensed something.

A ball of green fire appeared in the darkness, and then quickly

The ground gathered and spread at the edge of the square, and then as if sensing something, it suddenly pounced on the corpses of the remnants of the descendants!

Burn, devour, and grow stronger.

In front of Vanna, the invading green flames burned the lifeless flesh and blood, just like a predator enjoying its prey.

The young Inquisitor's eyes suddenly fixed, and she stared at the spreading green flames with extreme vigilance. Various thoughts and speculations surged in her mind, but the spreading flames seemed to ignore her - they flowed around, patrolled the square, and finally flowed away to a farther distance.

Fanna looked at the flames flowing and spreading thoughtfully, then took a step forward and walked deeper into the city.

Torrential rain poured down, the water curtain connected the sky and the earth. The sudden rain falling from the thick clouds was like a conspiracy that had been brewing for many years and finally came to light, washing away everything in the city-state of Pland.

And when the power of the rainstorm could not stop Morris, the fate of bad luck once again played a role - his car finally broke down.

The old scholar decisively gave up the idea of restarting the car. He knew that the obstruction would only become stronger, because the Preacher of the End had made a declaration to him at a time he didn't know about. This curse would not allow him to repair the car.

But the "declaration" of the Preacher of the End is not an unsolvable spell. Generally speaking, it can only guide or interfere with "events" to varying degrees. The longer it lasts and the larger the coverage area, the more powerful the force required and the greater the loss.

He couldn't stop in this rainstorm.

Morris opened the car door, and the biting cold wind and heavy rain blew in his face at the same time, instantly soaking his whole body and even blowing him off balance.

But the old man just held up his hat with one hand, held his cane tightly with his other hand, and walked towards the chaotic and hazy rain curtain ahead.

He didn't have an umbrella, and there was no point in having one in this weather.

This place is very close to the antique shop, only half a block away. If the weather is a little better, you can even see the sign of the shop.

But under the harsh conditions at the moment, all he could see was a vast curtain of rain and a few shops on both sides of the street with their doors and windows closed, closest to him.

Morris trudged along in the heavy rain for an unknown amount of time. Finally, he saw the familiar shop appear in his sight.

The old man subconsciously quickened his pace.

The curse that the Preacher of the End had cast on himself seemed to have finally come to an end. The wind of resistance that had always been blowing in his face gradually weakened, and the chill in the wind was no longer as biting as it had been at the beginning. Although the rain was still dense, it no longer fell on his body like stones.

When he was only a few steps away from the antique shop, Morris suddenly heard a voice next to him -

"Stop, you'll regret it!

"There is no salvation ahead... Plunder will only be swallowed by another disaster!

"History is about to be replaced... What you are saving is no longer the real reality, but the remnant of a wrong path..."

Morris didn't stop at all. He took two quick steps forward and almost broke the door open.

In just that instant, the voice in his ears suddenly disappeared, as if it had never appeared.

The cold wind and heavy rain on the street were also blocked outside the gate.

Morris stumbled forward a few steps, the water on his body spilling onto the floor. The warm and bright indoor environment made it difficult for him to adapt for a while.

He vaguely heard two young girls talking upstairs. One of them was Nina: "It's raining so hard!"

"Yeah, it started to rain suddenly... Luckily I listened to your uncle and came back early."

"My hair is wet too... Shirley, help me wipe the back of my hair!"

Morris shook his head, trying to recover his mind which had been numbed by the cold wind and rain. He raised his head and looked in the direction of the counter.

In the warm light, a blonde lady in a complicated dark purple dress was sitting quietly behind the counter, casting a curious look over here.

A very pretty lady, but Morris is not

Not much attention was paid to the lady's appearance.

What he noticed was the other person's transcendent and elegant temperament, and the mysterious and quiet atmosphere that seemed to linger around her.

It seemed as if she was not sitting in an antique shop in the downtown area, but quietly sitting in a peaceful palace garden, looking at herself, the reckless outsider, with a detached and calm gaze and a graceful demeanor.

Morris felt as if he had sensed some... inhuman characteristics in this lady, but he withdrew all his perceptions the next second.

A "newcomer" who had never been seen before appeared in Mr. Duncan's antique shop, but no matter who this newcomer was, he must not be peeped at casually.

Then he heard a greeting coming from the other side: "It's raining hard outside, old man, do you need any help?"

"Mr. Duncan... I'm looking for Mr. Duncan," Morris was stunned for a moment, then quickly spoke, "It's very important! Isn't he in the store?"

"He's here," the mysterious and elegant woman smiled, "He said his blood pressure is a little high, so he's resting on the second floor."

Morris looked stunned: "Blood pressure... a little high?"

The blonde behind the counter shook her head. “I don’t know what it is—he just wasn’t in the best of spirits after our discussion about history and fakes.”

History and fakes?!

Morris' heart suddenly jumped, and he wanted to ask something else, but at this moment, he heard footsteps on the stairs, followed by Mr. Duncan's voice: "Alice, are there any guests?"

"Yes, Mr. Duncan! An old man I don't know!"

Morris looked up and saw Duncan standing on the stairs, half of his body illuminated by the light and half hidden in the shadows.

He saw himself, with a look of surprise and curiosity on his face.