The distant and turbulent dark era in the northern border seemed to be still yesterday. At that time, it was far from firmly under the rule of Kaurin-Ishurien. Killing, conspiracy and poisonous schemes were the main themes of that era. Only after the fall of the last "King of the Northern Frontier" did this land become what it is today.

But that ancient prophecy was also left behind.

The hatred and killing of the past will surely come again, as it is today.

The box held a silver-carved sword and killed all the way from the city wall. During this period, it was unknown how many enemies were stabbed. Blood dripped along the blade and poured into the dark and gloomy steps and stone slabs, dyeing the cold snow red.

He took a breath, feeling a burst of fatigue, subconsciously pressed his hand on the hilt of the sword covered in the black crow feathers, but hesitated for a moment and then let go gently.

That was a magic sword.

Reed asked him to use the sword as little as possible. Fang Zhu said the same thing. Although the magic sword is not a magic sword, it seems too alarmist to the caller, the box still chose to obey the captain's orders.

And every time you use that sword, your physical strength will be consumed violently, and it is not time to use it now.

The Blood-Eyed Mercenaries broke through the city wall in a blink of an eye and appeared on it. They looked at the boy from a high place, with the bloodthirsty light hidden in the dark purple and dark eyes.

Outsiders say they are a branch of mountain people, descendants of savages who hid into the forest in the dark era. There are many such peoples in the ancient tower, but Talun is rare in the north.

But looking at the box, these people looked like shadow people's puppets. The dark purple eyes were like cold flames, as if they were beating in their hearts.

The box spat with blood and raised his sword again. Although his arms were trembling slightly, he still stood straight.

He and Marland's Templar were dispersed, and by now there was no way to retreat. Behind him was the little girl - her sister, the blind and weak girl.

Besides, he never thought that these native chickens and tiles in front of him could defeat him, because he was a killer without emotion, and he was Modorian-box.

The sword blade was like a silver lightning, piercing into the throat of the blood-eyed mercenary. Before he could react, he had not yet reacted. The approach of death reflected in his wide and scattered pupils, but he could only make meaningless sounds.

The box pulled out the magic sword with his backhand, held a sword in each hand, and stabbed the man's chest with one sword.

Although he does not use the magic sword, he can make it drink blood. On the one hand, it can enhance the power of the magic sword, on the other hand, the magic sword seems to have the ability to devour the dark soul and can kill the roots.

The magic sword seemed to have really drunk the blood from the man's wound. The sword blade was pitch black like a starry night, and the dark purple eyes of the mercenary were dimmed.

The mercenaries seemed to notice this scene and shouted angrily: "What did you do to him!"

"What an evil weapon is that!"

But the box didn't mind these people. He heard the sound of wind coming from behind him and quickly activated a crystal plug-in. His figure flashed, causing the giant blade to only slash a phantom.

It was the warlock's flash spell, and the mercenaries were shocked, but the box never told these people that they were simply a swordsman. He was a little on the ground and turned back, and a silver blade crossed the darkness.

When the sword blades trembled and attacked each other, the box skillfully staggered and changed its moves in the middle. The sword stuck to the opponent's blade, and the sword forced a hole in the man's throat.

He turned around and slashed the other person's neck with the magic sword in his other hand. The blade of the magic sword was as sharp as a thin feather, and he cut off the man's head without any drag.

The blood arrow ejected several feet high, and the blood-stained head rolled down the steps with his eyes open.

The headless corpse seemed to have fallen down softly and tilted on the dirty snow.

The box was hit faster and faster, and a mercenary rushed towards him, as if he realized his trickyness and wanted to limit his movements.

But he only lost one.

The box was sideways and pulled out the broken bricks on the city wall with his hand, causing a small collapse that hit these people.

He passed through the crowd himself, as fast as a changing shadow, unable to tell where the afterimage was or where the real body was.

The box seemed to have not noticed that it had used the power of "Crow Feather" unconsciously. Every time someone died under the sword, the power of the magic sword became stronger.

The mercenaries became more and more heartbroken as they fought, and the number of colleagues around them was decreasing one by one, while the demon-like guy was unscathed - ironically, it was their turn to be afraid of the demons now.

The boy may have shown some fatigue before, but the more he fought, the more he looked like a cold killing machine.

Accurate, efficient, without any delay.

That's not a human at all.

The casualties finally crossed the bottom line in their hearts. The mercenaries seemed to have lost the will to resist at the same time. They fought and retreated, and then turned around and ran away. In an instant, a small-scale defeat was triggered.

But the box raised its sword and summoned a group of black ravens from the void, leading the storm of the crows to the fleeing soldiers without any mercy.

The clumps swallowed the flesh and blood, bringing a storm of killing. When the tide of darkness receded, the box's eyes returned to their original colors.

He was stunned for a moment before realizing that he had used the power of the magic sword. He couldn't help but look down, but suddenly a wave of dizziness that was losing power came.

Before he could stand firm, he suddenly suffered a heavy blow in his chest. A feather arrow appeared in that place at some point, and blood immediately soaked his robe.

He looked up and found that a new enemy appeared on the city wall. His temporary victory could not change anything on the battlefield.

The mercenaries put down the magic crossbow in their hands and walked towards them. The box held the sword and swayed on the ground, trying to stand up expressionlessly, but was too weak to move.

He raised his head and saw a shadow appearing in front of him.

The boy didn't even think about it, and turned his sword and stabbed his throat with a sword.

This chapter is not finished yet, please click on the next page to continue reading the exciting content later! When the blurred white light gathered again in the field of vision, the box saw a little blankly that he was in Milera's Resurrection Church.

The girl's eyes were silently staring at him, although her eyes seemed a little hollow, the subtle movements between her eyebrows had already revealed her worry.

This is the first resurrection of the box.

He knew that he was resurrected for a quarter of an hour. He wanted to know what happened in this quarter of an hour. Did the opponent attack the fortress?

Although the girl could not see her, she seemed to read his thoughts from his silence. Although the box was always silent, she was also as careful as her hair.

"Mr. Reid ordered the knights of Milera who were reserved for the rest of the city to organize an attack and took back the wall."

"The knights all say that Mr. Reid has a very extraordinary origin and that ordinary people will not have such sophisticated arrangements."

"Mr. Reed gives you a rest, the walls are temporarily safe."

But the box shook his head, drew his sword silently and walked outward, a cold feeling seemed to linger in his heart - only by killing the enemy and killing everyone can we protect all this.

But a cold and weak hand held his hand.

"Please...be careful...and...and your own safety..."

The girl lowered her head timidly, not daring to stop her, and said softly in the most cowardly and expectant tone.

The box was silent for a moment.

He looked at the godless gaze and his cold heart seemed to melt a little.

But a familiar voice was coming from the crowd:

"...Is killing only repaid with killing? The seeds of hatred in the past, the ancient prophecies, are they really fulfilling today..."

The box subconsciously stopped and looked in that direction. He saw the tall figure, holding his sword in his hand, standing among the crowd, looking at him.

He recognized this middle-aged man, the owner of the bakery in the town of Gray Owl.

But the other party was completely different from that time. The lines on his face were as sharp as a knife, his eyes were sharp, and his mouth was like a thin line pursed:

"Young man, do you believe in the arrangement of fate?"

The box nodded, and the cold and ruthless killer certainly believed in the arrangement of fate.

The man shook his head gently:

"But fate is a very bad thing. When the former king wrote that prophecy with his own blood, did he even think about what he had paid?"

His eyes fell on the two swords in the box: "Although that is my ancestor, it does not mean that I want to inherit everything from him. The king of the North believes in his established destiny, and you believe it too. It is hard to say that this is not a coincidence."

But the caller is a very complex existence.

They were shaped with different personalities and appearances by a diverse world that could not be imagined by the indigenous people of Aitalia.

Just as the middle-aged man at this moment would never have thought that the fate he mentioned was not the same as the fate recognized by the box.

"...That is actually just a mercy on your hands, some are unintentional, and some are intentional - when you betray yourself for the uneasy desire in your heart, it will be difficult for you to escape from that cage. Even if you are as arrogant as a monarch, you are just a prisoner of fate.

Do you believe in all that? It is hatred that leads to killing, and the struggle will be calmed in blood. The cursed king made a prophecy at the moment of death that those who betrayed the past will suffer their own consequences.”

The box shook its head.

The middle-aged man also curled his lips: "No one would believe it. If hatred leads to killing, the cause of the struggle in the past bears today's fruit, then how innocent are these people? The established fate has made us descendants trapped by bad luck for hundreds of years, and what have we done wrong?"

The box couldn't quite understand and looked at the other person with a puzzled look.

But the man didn't care whether he could understand it or not, and said, "The hatred was blind from the beginning, but was just a temptation from the darkness. Everything the sword told you was just a false lie.

Killing can never calm the killing. Fighting is just a means, not an end. If you indulge in it, you will only become the second prisoner.

That's exactly why I handed the sword to you - it's a magic sword, but its power is the nemesis of those things, only depending on how you use it."

The box is thoughtful.

But the expression on his face seemed to be very unexpected. He didn't care why the sword was in his hands, why the other party was here, and he didn't care about the other party's identity.

He only cares about what he cares about. It was the goal of the mission before, but now there are more.

But he felt that his mind was clearer, and the magic sword in his hand seemed to be vaguely resisting something.

The box looked up and looked at it. No matter how dull he was, he could tell that the other party was helping him.

Although he accepted it calmly, this does not mean that he has not thought about the reason for all this.

"You are particularly compatible with this sword. You are the next master it chose. I have never even felt such trembling from it. I don't know what kind of experience you have, but this sword does come from a dark world," replied the middle-aged man: "It's just that the power of darkness can also deal with them-the adult seems to be particularly optimistic about you, which is what he said. I don't know whether he still has hope for the North, at least I don't see a chance of winning. This is an era covered by darkness and cannot see a little light."

He turned to the box. "There is only so much I can tell you."

The box thought silently for a moment and said, "Captain, he will find a way."
To be continued...