Leo leaned against the wall and looked at the sky covered with dark clouds.

The rain continued to fall, and the wild beasts trapped by the tumultuous black clouds shed tears of cats and rats at the ancient city in a sneering sound, as if they were to vent all the sarcasm that had been accumulated for a long time. The dry sand turned into a water country at a speed visible to the naked eye. The dripping sound mixed with the spells resounding on the street, and the nameless flames in Leo's heart swelled wildly.[]

The bullshit truth, the hell truth... He really didn't know how he was squinting, but he actually stayed. It must be me who was also bewitched by some kind of spell. He thought powerlessly that it must be the god behind Brandik, the guy who had his head and tail exposed influenced his will and influenced his judgment.

Li Ou turned his head and looked at the desert warrior. The belief in the other party seemed to be more firm than before. He knew that nothing he said was useless. He wisely chose to close his mouth and wait quietly. Waiting for the end, waiting for death, and waiting to see when and what kind of fate will come.

I hope not to be the old virgin who has been fucked countless times with abscesses on his face. He thought maliciously.

In the square, the last golden scimitar seemed to be a manipulated puppet stepped onto the platform.

☆

Bennett's face was twisted, his eyes wide open and protruded terriblely as if the dead fish's eyes were terrible. He tried his best to resist his moving forward body, his whole body was tense, but his steps did not stop at all. He raised his right foot and stepped onto the steps; then his left foot... one step after another, repeating itself. He walked onto the platform.

The pastors surrounded Monroe Celte and sang a harsh prayer loudly. He looked at Bennett sadly, his annoyance, self-blame, despair and guilt surged overwhelmingly, despair and guilt, swallowing him and dragging him into the endless abyss. His hands were trembling, his legs and feet were sore and pale, but he could no longer stop and he had no way out. He could only perform according to the script written by others, in order to find a little insignificant life in the end.

The dull and stiff footsteps stopped.

Another pair of eyes mixed with resentment, fear, curse and despair. He closed his eyes briefly and tried to wipe it out of his mind. However, his eyes came out one after another, as if a shadow ghost was tangled with him and refused to leave. Sorry, this was not my fault. Monroe Celte said loudly in his heart. However, they still refused to leave. He felt like little ghosts in hell, stretching out a pair of hands without flesh and bones, grabbing him and swearing to let him join them.

The rain above his head was pouring down, soaking his whole body, but he knew that his face was full of his cowardly tears.

"Bennett, sorry," he said with a little crying voice.

All that was received was only anger and hatred.

He was like those people and could not speak, nor could he curse. However, Monroe Celte was extremely eager to hear their accusations and curses, because this would make him feel a little better, rather than enduring silent hatred like he is now.

"I'm sorry." Monroe Celte told meaningless apology. That's all he did. Besides, he didn't know how to save, how to atone for sins, his faith, his god... He just wanted to laugh miserably. All people, Bennett, and himself, collapsed in an instant.

Liar! Everything is a terrible scam!

However, he understood too late and could not do anything, and could not even violate it. He could only let him mercy, listen to intimidation, and obey orders. The short spear given by the ugly old witch shone in his hands, revealing the evil rainbow light. Monroe Celt bit his lip, hesitating in his heart.

Bennett knelt in front of Monroe Celte.

In the struggle, he stubbornly raised his head, and his muscles, tendons and bones made terrible sounds in the struggle. His mouth bite, his face turned red, and the blood vessels under his skin burst one after another, which was particularly terrifying. "I... curse... you..." He opened his mouth and roared in despair and resentment in his throat. "...I can't... die so much..."

The sound of the priests singing prayers in circles suddenly became loud and the surging magic swept over them. Bennett's voice stopped abruptly and his head suddenly lowered. A piece of bloody flesh fell out-that was Bennett's.

Fear spread like a plague. Monroe Celte just wanted to escape from here, but his body imprisoned his thoughts. He cried bitterly while holding up the short spear. In front of him, the corpse was burned and ashes covered his feet. Deep guilt and despair grabbed his heart. "No!" he shouted helplessly, and in the midst of resistance, the short spear still stabbed straight into Bennett's neck and passed through his neck. The blood seemed to be blooming on the water-stacked ground, dazzling red.

The strange black flames rose with the tone of the priests who kept singing like puppets, like ghosts, like smoke and dust. They danced strangely in the heavy rain, stretched their bodies, spread their teeth and claws, and mocked them freely. It swallowed Bennett's body and twisted his body in front of him as if showing off. However, Monroe Celt could not feel any temperature, only the bone-black cold enveloped him and eroded his limbs and bones. In the painful self-black reproach, in the blur, there was an evil sludge-like black shadow whispering to him, saying filthy, blasphemous words, abuse, curse, and humiliation... All he could think of all the inferior words that swallowed him like a tornado. "Continue, continue, more!" Monroe Celt cried and shouted, "Aren't I such a person?"

However, the sound seemed to be just his auditory hallucination.

A thunder pierced the dark clouds, and he fell to his knees in a broken and in a stinking ashes. "Why didn't you kill me, why didn't you die?" Monroe Celte shouted in despair, "Why am I alone still alive?"

He cried like a child. The prayer surrounding him seemed to be the most heartfelt ridicule. He slowly raised his head, and the dark clouds were as dark as his mood, as if the end of the world. Then, Monroe Celte saw the statue of the god he had once kneeling and laughed happily, and his eyes showed joy of playing with him in his palm. An impulse arose, he tried to jump up and curse at the old witch's nose, but a force that was unpredictable and unresisting suppressed him. He was pressed to the ground and could not move.

The priests' voices were suddenly mixed with some pain that had penetrated their bones, and all changed their tone. In the tone that Monroe Celte had never heard before, both like glass rubbing against each other and like sharp blades scratched by fingernails, piercing into their ears and torture their nerves. Biyewoman, Banshee... More sharp shouts than all creatures with sound-based weapons lingered in his ears. He almost fainted. Words that he could not understand and could not recognize echoed in his ears, exuding a heart-wrenching magic.

The thunder roared endlessly. After a moment, the rain became heavier. The accumulated water disappeared over Monroe Celte's chin. He was frightened to find that after dissipating the ashes and blood, the rain was as black as ink, revealing a rotten stench, as if it was disgusting mud in the sewer, full of worms and soft mud monsters with countless tentacles.

The chanting reached its peak and then came to an abrupt end.

After a brief silence, the priests suddenly let out a terrible cry from their throats, as if they were suffering great pain.

Monroe Celte raised his eyes hard, and in the curtain of black raindrops, he saw the priests roaring towards the sky like wild wolf. His exposed hands, necks, and muscles seemed to be crawling under the muscles on his face, swollen bulges, moving and crawling constantly. In a moment, their robes were stretched out...

Monroe Celte shivered, a greasy, dark, deep fear caught him, and he realized that something horrible was about to happen, and he held his breath and prayed to the gods who had been abandoned by him.

Sudden bursts suddenly sounded. The smelly blood splattered on Monroe Celt's face. He saw that the priests who were still humans had a mess at this moment, and they could not recognize their previous appearance. However, they were not dead. The darkness that made him palpitations ran straight down the sky and filled the priests' bodies. The bishop saw the muscles on his manipulated subordinates' faces peeling off, and something terrible grew on the bones. They shouted in pain, becoming less and less like human voices. Then... In just a short moment, Monroe Celt saw the priests covered with dark red carapaces, and almost all their facial features changed: a dark yellow fist-sized eye was upside down on the original forehead.

They roared loudly, their momentum shook the sky like demons.

What monster do we believe in? Monroe? Celte thought desperately.

☆

"What kind of monsters are they?" the desert warrior asked in horror, swallowing his saliva. Even a firm faith could not dispel his fear. "I...I've never seen it...I'd rather face a whole nest of sand rays..."

"It's not a monster." Leo couldn't hide his fear, "It's a demon."

"Evil...demon?"

Leo squeezed out a bitter and desperate smile. "It's what you think, those guys and those things from the Miracle Age."

"But, how did they...they turn from humans into demons?"

Li Ou looked out the window, dark clouds gathered in the dark days, and the bronze statue smiled coldly under the lightning and thunder, just like her original appearance. "Because of the ceremony." His throat was dry and unbearable. "I know what kind of ceremony they were doing. But now it seems that it is too late."

“What ceremony?”

Leo couldn't help but lower his voice and said softly, "Sacrifice for the annihilation of the demon Clegg."

Clegg, the demon of creation and destruction. "The same is true for rituals." He said. The creation of killing and destruction. The golden scimitar was sacrificed, the priest was transformed into demons, and the citizens killed each other, and at this time there was only one winner left in the square.

"We...what should we do?" The desert warrior lost all confidence.

What should I do? Can they kill each other? Obviously comparable to climbing the sky. But... Li Ou can escape when he looked at the city like a cage? His heart was filled with despair. "How far can he go, how far." He said powerlessly, "and... ask for blessings for himself."
Chapter completed!