Worship Kubahar... Worship Kubahar...

In the temple of Kubahar, there were corpses of hundreds of livestock. Their throats were cut open, and the blood flowed out was evaporated with milky mist, dyed the white and black fur red, and penetrated into the shiny floor gap. More livestock were waiting for their deaths. The pure black eyes looked at the red floor and the brown corridors with wet eyes. The goats did not bleat and moan, and the calves did not moo and cry. They lowered their heads in the hands of the priests, smelling the gradually cooled blood of their companions until their bodies and heads separated.

The little goddess sat on her golden throne, dressed up as carefully as she was every time she traveled. The white clothes hang on the ground, the fabric absorbed the blood on the ground, and the bright red colors seemed to have their own will, spreading slowly and firmly - upward, to both sides, surrounding the whole body.

Kubahar, worship Kubahar.

It is said that Kubahar is a bloodthirsty goddess. If she does not offer enough blood, she will lose her compassion. But what reason and right do humans have to be blessed and peaceful through killing? But in any case, such a ceremony has been going on for nearly a thousand years. The little goddess remembers that she seemed to have seen such a scene not long ago. Her peers around her were taken away crying and were only silent until dawn. Finally, the door opened and the light shone in. She thought that her parents were coming to pick her up home, but she didn't expect that two strangers came in. They bowed to her devoutly and called her Kubahar.

I still remember that her vague parents had called Kubahar in the patio. She stood at the window and smiled at them. They immediately ran away in horror, fleeing to a place where she could not see, but she could still hear the crying of men and women mixed together slowly becoming smaller. A few days later, Kubahar saw them in front of his favorite window. The couple lay quietly among the flowers, and people soaked their heads into the holy river, and then burned them on the crematorium beside the river. The flesh and sandalwood wood were engulfed by the flames, and rolling black smoke emerged. In the turbid water flow under the crematorium, waiting to retrieve the gold ornaments of the dead. The gemstone boy swam around like a little duck looking for food. The skin on his back was charred, just like those burned corpses.

She should have an older brother, about the same age as this young man, and perhaps a younger brother who is still in her infancy. She once learned to hum an ancient song with her mother to make him fall asleep; no, she should be a sister, who always smiled softly behind the heavy wooden window. A cinnabar mark on her eyebrows, and a dripping eaves of water reflected in her bright black eyes. She held her hands, feet, clothes, and cried loudly when her father carried herself into the temple.

Even if everyone around her smiles - she is the only one who cries for the little goddess. Kubahar's exile is destined, she is the god of Danga, but no matter the chance of ascension or the abdication, she must be determined by her power and will. She will spend her childhood and youth alone, and then be expelled by the temple and the crowd. Even her relatives and friends will avoid her like a plague... Others see glory, but those who love her see the sorrow hiding behind glory.

Kubahar's memory is very chaotic. Over the past thousand years, hundreds of incarnations have participated in another more short cycle of reincarnation during a short period of life. The goddess died in the blood that accompanied the arrival of youth and was reborn in another young girl. In the years when she did not need to perform her duties, the warmth of human beings comforted her heart, and was forcibly deprived of it in the next imprisonment, gradually fading, leaving only a faint mark on her soul.

She remembers everything, nothing.

After the couple died, she once asked Oman: "Did I do something wrong?"

"The wise Kubahar is never at fault." Oman replied: "Your will is the fate of mankind."

If that's the case, why do you have to struggle like this? You should know more than anyone else that there is nothing to shake Kubahar's will.

Why? Oman?

“Kubahar… worship Kubahar!”

The scimitar light drew a beautiful arc in the dim hall, cutting off not the necks of livestock, but the fingers of humans. The Oman priest cut off his own fingers.

"Kubahar. I offer myself sacrifice to you!"

Kubahar, if you are angry about the king's fault, then make up for it with the blood of the royal family.

"Kubahar!" the priests shouted in unison, rather than praying, as well as pleading.

The sword of the Oman priest did not stop. Every time he shouted, it was accompanied by a piece of flesh and blood with bones leaving her body. It was quick and firm. The little goddess finally moved. She raised her hand and Aman lost the power to slash. She abandoned the sword and her broken left arm was no longer bleeding.

"I'm leaving here." said the little goddess: "I can finally leave here."

"Please be merciful, Kubahar...Please be merciful, the people of Danga need your blessings, and the king of Danga needs your guidance - Kubahar, if you leave, where will Danga go?!"

"…Pick up your head, Oman priest."

The little goddess stretched out her right hand and drenched in the cinnabar plate beside her. She pointed a little on the forehead of the Aman priest, perhaps the last time she blessed Danga.

"Danga has no king and no longer needs a goddess. The people of Danga will find happiness on their own, and Danga also has their own way. Oman, you must be happy."

She slowly sat back to her original position and stared at the boundless darkness: "The person who greeted me has arrived."

***

"I think they can see us." Wilderger said to the heavily guarded mountain warriors.

"Because this is Kubahar's realm, my spells will be affected to a certain extent." Yalix leisurely raised his hands behind his Necromancer, "It's a good opportunity. My knight, play the role of a flesh shield, let me appreciate your force!"

"Then I don't have to be polite." The "Spotted Eagle" who disappeared for a while has returned to the world. Her hideous and distorted smile can scare and kill children. It's a pity that his beautiful face.

"Absolutely, it's their glory to die for Kubahar." Yalix snapped his fingers, and the outermost gate closed with a loud bang - close the door, put... the knight, it felt great.

Ever since he saw his semi-lich tutor doing this, he had always wanted to try it, but he had never found a suitable candidate for the Necromancer. The one who could barely see was either stamped by the gods of the evil camp or signed a contract with the Batz demons of the Nine Prisons of Barto. Moreover, they never felt that robbing corpses, souls, materials from the fingers of a little lich... was a shameful thing. He didn't want to work hard to marry someone. But when he said this, he always felt that the teacher said it was closed and put... the knight had a problem. Every time the teacher said this, he would smile as sweet as honey - so the lich wisely did not say this sentence.

In the patio and hall of the Goddess Temple, there are nearly a hundred mountain warriors holding scimitars. They are all selected by the goddess' priests and the Danga royal family from the mountain natives. They are strong and taciturn, and can easily run and jump on the rugged mountain roads like adult deer; they are loyal, violent, tenacious, fighting in wartime, and protecting palaces and temples without wartime. In the past few hundred years, the traditional scimitar held in their hands have killed many outsiders who attempt to touch Danga and live offerings dedicated to Kubahar.

Years of killing have often caused a special atmosphere to be surrounded by them. Their creed also contributed to this atmosphere - "Only the heroes who died in battle are not cowards." As a country in the crack, Danga has been safe until now. Its status is sensitive and resources are scarce, but the biggest possibility is that these tough warriors will make the invading countries less worth the cost.

They obeyed only the goddess' priests and royal families and were proud of their loyalty, but when the royal family clashed with the temple, the mountain warriors were in a very awkward position.

But they would not think of this now. Facing the strange enemy covered in metal armor, facing the sudden slowly coming out of the darkness, like them, with an indescribable sense of suffocation and oppression, all over their bodies. The only idea of ​​these warriors is to fight! Fight against this powerful enemy!

They rushed towards the Necromancer with enthusiasm, with the scimitar in their hands.

Compared with the gorgeous scenes in the movie or the wonderful descriptions in the novel, it is really simple and boring: no one will talk nonstop at this time to show his justice or evil. The confrontation of weapons is only one moment. At most two times, a body that was cut into two pieces fell to the ground. Once in ten times, a gray mist would rise on Wilderger's armor, which means that the defense of the Dead Knight was broken - the ferocity and tenacity of these mountain warriors is indeed amazing. Even if they are cut in half, the warriors who roll on the ground can continue to swing their swords forcefully 3.4 times, and their heads fall, and you have to be wary of his last blow - the Dead Knight has been forced since its birth.

The suppressed killing spirit was completely triggered by these abominable hinderers. The souls of the thugs roared wildly, and even affected the lich a little. But no sign of disorder was seen from beginning to end, and the efficiency of killing was gradually increasing with the familiarity of weapons - the black invaders advanced step by step, steadily, eroding the space and hope of the protectors, until the last two mountain warriors turned into 4 pieces - if you want to kill these stubborn guys as fast as possible, and don't want them to be like the negative characters of the horror film of the Western Continent Federation, and when you are completely unaware of it, it is better to split it from the middle.

The attic door where Kubahar lives rarely opens, but today it is obviously full of bad luck. The Necromancer's black fire-stricken Queer knocked on the door gracefully. The negative energy that is corrosive, which is comparable to the water roar, instantly eroded the entire door - "Sorry, my strength seems to be used a little more." Wilderge said insincerely.

The demon hiding in his beautiful body, who was more terrifying than any darkness, walked out from behind him with a smile, completely ignoring the priests trembling in front of the little goddess, and stretched out their hands to Kubahar.

"According to the agreement, I will welcome you. Kubahar."

Well, I have something to ask, the question of the recommendation vote... the opponent... am I a sir?... Haha... Khan

Some adults have very good opinions, but are you allowed to overhaul me after writing this, or improve it in the next article? If a essay is overhauled or suddenly changed its writing style, it is easy to appear tj.
Chapter completed!