boom!
The abyss is furious.
The majestic divine power burst out from the crack and impacted on the body of the hundred-armed giant.
This is a spectacle that no one has ever seen before - the way "life" is ignited. Thousands of deaths were overlapped at this moment and imposed on the hundred-armed giant.
If death can be quantified, then a death that is enough to turn all humans, birds, animals, and even vegetation in an entire country to ashes has arrived at this moment.
Die, rebirth, die, rebirth, die, rebirth...
Just cycle through the purgatory-like torture.
Ye Lanzhou's face was expressionless.
"■■!!!"
Ludovic roared, and the abyss shook, roaring with him.
But this time, the meaning He expressed was much easier to understand than before.
-let go!
Ye Lanzhou smiled and shook his head slightly:
"I'm just reacting now. Isn't it a little late?"
bright.
…
…
The North Icefield of Asgard.
It was midnight, but it was as bright as day.
There are clouds lingering in the sky that have not gone away for thousands of years. The iron-like clouds are glowing like iron at the moment, as if a fire has been lit in the clouds.
Countless blade-like tiny pieces of ice and snow fell from the sky, carrying a soul-piercing coldness.
Ice and snow were swept up in the hurricane and fell to the ground.
So there was only a desolate whiteness left between heaven and earth.
Only the faint firelight on the barrier is beating and burning, and black smoke rises. Thousands of fires are like thousands of wisps of black smoke rising into the sky. The smoke was stretched in the hurricane, intertwined in one place, and then disappeared together.
Like a burning soul dissipating in the wind.
And just between this desolate white sky and earth, the countless smoky land is engraved with patches of scarlet. The frozen blood covered the snowfields in layers, overlapping each other. After hundreds of years, they were still as bright as ever.
The dead left their blood and souls here and turned into that color.
Now that color is moistened by new blood, it seems to have come to life, like ashes being rekindled, emitting a coquettish light of death like a flame.
Touching.
In comparison, the countless dead things on the snowfield that had long since lost their lives were insignificant.
There are countless monsters.
The moment those demons set foot on the snowfield, they encountered an unexpected and terrifying force and were doomed to death.
This is true even if it is a horrific natural disaster.
Right in the middle of the snowfield, in the deepest part of the spider web covered with layers of ice and snow, the half-human, half-spider creature still stood in its original posture.
But there is no longer any interest left.
It's still burning.
The green flames danced lightly on his head, using blood as fuel, but there was no warmth or even light.
It's like an illusion.
Scourge: Son of the Spider.
The terrifying existence that has been sleeping under the wasteland of the north wall for hundreds of years was a huge threat that once breached the outer barrier.
But it had already died the moment it broke out of the ground, along with countless heirs and descendants, and even the countless spider eggs hidden in the frozen soil were also petrified and buried together under the blue flames.
The battlefield at this moment was full of soldiers and musicians running around to clean up the mess, but there was silence here, and everyone avoided that area in awe.
"—As expected of the Blue King."
In front of the burning spider, two figures stood.
The young man wearing a cloak with an eagle emblem sighed softly. He was wearing a light and flexible robe. The robe was white and almost blended into the academy.
The five slender fingers with black iron rings were pressed against the command sword at his waist that had never been unsheathed.
He seemed to be sick and weak, his face was colorless, he was as pretty as a girl, and he spoke slowly and slowly.
He doesn't look like an Asgardian at all, nor does he look like the third emperor's son who has been sitting alone in the north wall wasteland for ten years since he came of age, ambitious and seeking the throne.
Contrary to the arrogance and frivolity of the past, he stood behind the gray figure, his expression became respectful and gentle, full of awe and coming from the heart.
The King of Blue.
The guardian of this world and the pioneer of the dark world, the undisputed strongest, the well-deserved... King of Musicians!
"It's so cold."
Bach looked at the burning natural disaster in front of him and suddenly murmured softly: "I have been here so many times, but I still feel that it is so cold here. The wind is strong and the sky is gray, which makes me feel unhappy. Asgar It’s hard for Germans to live here, right?”
"Although the wasteland is frozen soil, it can still support people."
The third emperor's son said: "If you dig out the frozen mud at the top, you can plant seeds in the soil below. If you are lucky, you can farm for three months every year before the cold snap comes. Although living is harder, at least it is better than death. .”
"It's a pity that every time we open up, we can only find this kind of wilderness... Go deeper next time, maybe we can find a warm place for you."
Bach murmured softly and turned around, revealing his white beard and eyebrows: "What time is it now?"
"A quarter past eleven, almost midnight."
"about there."
Bach nodded: "Just start when you're ready. I feel flustered if I keep waiting."
"As commanded."
The third emperor nodded and waved back, and a priest in gray clothes standing in the distance stepped forward.
The two priests were different from ordinary clergy. They did not wear the emblem of the order, and they did not look kind and gentle at all.
He was wearing a teaching robe, but there were pieces of armor sewn into the lining of the teaching robe. The armor pieces were connected by mail. It was more like a piece of heavy armor than a teaching robe.
They have short beards and sideburns, and their heads are shaved, replaced by tattoos of scripture that extend from their necks and behind their ears.
On the back of the head, there is also a gear emblem that is a variant of the Holy Emblem.
Chainsaw Friars.
"These two are the holders of sacred objects of the Chainsaw Monks." The third emperor introduced, nodding to the two men and saluting: "Thank you to the Chainsaw Monks for their sacrifice. The Asgardians and the Holy City will remember them in their hearts. "
"Everyone takes what he needs."
The leader of the elders nodded. He was neither respectful to Bach nor flattering to the third emperor's son. He just said calmly: "Sacred objects that can only be used for worship are meaningless. In the final analysis, they are all things that need to be used." Weapons on the battlefield. If the residual heat can be used, we are happy to see it happen."
The Third Emperor nodded, "So, have you two brought me here?"
The two priests looked at each other, and the man behind him nodded, took off his robe, exposed his naked upper body, knelt on the ground, and bowed his head to the elder.
The scars on his back were exposed, as well as the spine that had long been replaced by steel.
The elder pulled out the dagger without expression, stabbed it out, and tore open his flesh and blood. The blood spurted out, fell on the snow, and merged into the bright red.
Inside the already semi-mechanized body, a black iron box was pulled out from between the gears.
After being hastily bandaged, the priest was left alone.
Everyone's eyes fell on the palm-sized iron box in the elder's hand.
"This is..." the third emperor asked.
The elder nodded.
"In order to avoid leaking the news and covering up the characteristics of the holy object, Yevgeny carried it along the way." The elder handed the iron box to the third emperor's son:
"It has the fire paint applied by the dean himself, proving that it is intact. Following the dean's order, I will deliver this to you. Our mission is completed."
In silence, the third emperor took the dagger, pried off the fire paint, opened the black iron box, took out the thing wrapped in silk, and opened it carefully.
Finally, I saw the dark iron piece sleeping inside.
When it felt the demon's breath, it woke up, glowing with a faint golden flame that stung people's eyes. The incomplete piece of iron trembled slightly, emitting a gentle whistle that echoed in the ears, like a long sigh.
"Is this the last fragment of fate?"
The third emperor's son murmured softly, "How lucky I am to be able to meet you."
Unlike the stone monument of destiny standing in the Holy City Square, once upon a time, this was a unique "destiny" and a real miracle.
After the three kings of the first generation established the system of the Sacred Cauldron, they used it as a foundation to forge the artifact named "Destiny" - the Spear of Destiny.
Relying on this thing, mankind has opened up its own golden age.
As a price, it fell, shattered, and fell apart in the first war between the Holy Cauldron and the Hundred-Eyed Ones. The remaining three surviving fragments were also scattered in various directions.
Successive owners of the fragment have longed to restore it and restore it to its former glory.
The second-generation pope threw one of the fragments into the furnace and used alchemy to sublimate the massive metal into "star antimony", thereby creating the sword of the past popes and the authority of the Red King, the "Gate to Heaven."
The second fragment was later recovered from the depths of the sea by the Knights of the Round Table.
Arthur's descendants pinned their hopes on it to cut off their destiny, hoping that it could kill the curse in their blood and suppress the dragon's blood. Therefore, it was made into a holy spear for slaying dragons, and was called "Dragon Slayer" and "Iron of the Fallen". Unfortunately, the final result was not satisfactory.
And this is the last fragment held by the Chainsaw Monks.
"Pity."
The third emperor couldn't help but sigh.
A hand stretched out from the side, picked up the fragments of fate, and held it in his hand: "There is no pity for dead things. As long as humans still exist, they can be recreated in the future."
It's Bach.
He handed the long staff in his hand to the third emperor's son: "Please step back. Ordinary people cannot bear the changes that will happen next."
"I'm also a musician."
The third emperor's son stopped in place persistently: "The best kind."
Bach glanced at him, smiled, and said nothing.
The next moment, the bass of the harpsichord played.
Like a great bell, the earth trembles, the ether moves, and all music theory is involuntarily drawn into that frequency and dances with it.
The third emperor's expression changed, he hesitated, and took a step back.
Then, one more step.