piratefiction Chapter 312 My kill was stolen
Chapter 312 My kill was stolen
Chapter 312 My kill was stolen
In the center of the underground hall, filled with the stench of rotting flesh, Mr. A, dressed in a hooded robe and possessing a delicate and handsome face, stared at the altar ahead with a fanatical and crazed expression.
Thump! Thump...
Several servants standing behind Mr. A collapsed one after another. Guided by flesh magic, their flesh flowed like liquid towards the altar, becoming one of the many sacrifices.
Only a few shriveled corpses remained on the ground, their bones seemingly wrapped in dried skin.
"Give your life for the Lord's coming!"
As he shouted with fervor, the underground hall was suddenly filled with illusory, layered cries: some were calling for their mothers, some were coughing violently, some were groaning in pain, and some were cursing in despair...
Countless illusory, transparent spirits filled with pain, resentment, and bitterness converged into a vast, illusory river, surging forth from the void.
The numbness, despair, pain, resentment, and other repressed emotions that had accumulated throughout Backlund for many years were also stirred up, flowing into this illusory river and toward the altar, becoming one of the indispensable sacrifices in this ritual.
boom! boom! boom!
Gunshots suddenly rang out behind Mr. A, and pale yellow, golden, and silver bullets shot out, cutting through the air and hurtling towards the altar.
The bullets struck the thin, yet seemingly unshakeable layer of light surrounding the altar, then melted and disappeared little by little.
The extraordinary bullet, which possessed purifying and demon-repelling effects, disappeared without leaving a trace.
In a corner of the underground hall, Klein, holding a revolver, narrowed his eyes.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he continued to pull the trigger, firing all the remaining bullets from the revolver.
Then, they too disintegrated, failing to create even the slightest ripple, protected by the overflowing power of the ritual.
Mr. A, standing before the altar, turned around, revealing a beautiful, almost otherworldly face.
His chest, abdomen, shoulders, thighs, and other areas were covered with a layer of disgusting, writhing flesh, seemingly undergoing a horrific mutation.
"It's no use. Although I don't know how you, a little reptile, managed to get in, the ritual has already begun. With your meager strength, you can't even create a ripple."
"But you are lucky, you will live to witness the coming of my Lord."
Having said that, Mr. A ignored Klein, closed his eyes, raised his hands as if welcoming the sunrise, and chanted loudly in ancient Hermes: "Creator of all things, Lord behind the veil of shadow, fallen nature of all living beings."
"Your devout followers pray for your arrival..."
Bang! Bang! Bang...
With a somber expression, Klein created air bombs, summoned flames, and threw card knives, attacking the altar with all his might.
He had just tried to use the Faceless Man's ability to transform into Cyril's appearance, but received no feedback, not even a spiritual warning.
...either this place is isolated from the outside world, or Cyril left Backlund for some reason, or Mr. Azik and I left Backlund in the previous accident.
Neither of these is good news for me.
I can only hope that Mr. Azik can resolve or get rid of Ince Zangwell as soon as possible, otherwise the "True Creator" will really descend.
As his thoughts drifted, he suddenly turned his head as if sensing something and saw a ball of yarn rolling out of the void not far away. It rolled all the way to Mr. A's feet at the altar and was blocked by the light layer formed by the overflowing power of the ritual.
...this?
Klein was momentarily stunned, then saw a pumpkin carriage emerge from the void, following the loose ends of a ball of yarn.
Immediately afterwards, a tall woman with chestnut hair stepped down from the pumpkin carriage.
She was dressed in an indigo-blue captain's uniform with floral patterns and a tricorn hat with feathers, looking just like the captain of a pirate ship.
is her!
Klein recognized her immediately; he had seen this woman before at the Roselle Memorial Exhibition at the Kingdom Museum.
Later, when he and Cyril tried to steal the "Black Emperor" card, they were caught red-handed by Cyril.
Bernadette glanced at the unfortunate fellow who had somehow stumbled into the ceremony of the evil god's descent, and calmly said, "Leave. This is not something you can get involved in."
As she spoke, she stretched out her right hand, conjuring up an ancient-looking spear that burned with clusters of dark red blood from its tip to its hilt.
Klein glanced at the dark red spear that made his heart tremble, and silently retreated.
He roughly knew the woman's identity: the "mysterious queen" that Cyril had mentioned, waiting for an opportunity in Backlund.
Call ~
It seems there's not much danger here anymore.
In the East District, people are collapsing on the chaotic streets every minute of every second.
Countless tiny starlight burst forth from the void, outlining a phantom gate covered with mysterious patterns and symbols in mid-air.
The next moment, Cyril emerged from behind the "door" with a not-so-good expression.
.
He was just wandering in the spirit world when he unfortunately encountered a storm again, and was forced to get lost in the spirit world for quite a while.
If he hadn't sought help from the Pure Lights, who could be seen anywhere in the spirit world, he didn't know how much longer it would have taken him to return to Backlund.
"An astrologer who 'accidentally' encounters a storm and can even get lost in the spirit world."
"This script is so awful, I'm not even going to act in it anymore..."
As he whispered, a phantom book, slowly turning its pages, appeared in his eyes.
"I came, I saw, I recorded."
Ugh!
The wind around them gradually picked up and became increasingly violent.
The violent winds collided with the air, creating an explosive sound, from the east to the dock area, the factory area, the Backlund Bridge area, the west, the south of the bridge, the north... until it covered most of the entire Backlund.
The trees lining the streets and the roof tiles on the roofs swayed violently, and the doors and windows that weren't closed properly made loud banging noises.
Hats fell from the heads of many pedestrians, and clothes drying outdoors, dry branches, and leaves flew into the air...
Visible air currents surged, pushing the thick smog, tinged with iron black and pale yellow, high into the sky and towards the more open areas downstream of the Tasok River.
In mid-air, supported by swirling air currents, Cyril's face gradually went from calm to pale.
He had been using his extraordinary demigod-level abilities on a large scale and with all his might, but his Sequence 6 level spirituality was starting to give out.
As his spirituality gradually withered, the wind over Backlund began to subside.
But the next second, the wind picked up again.
A powerful spirit took control of the wind from him and amplified its force, causing the iron-black and pale yellow hues in the fog to fade rapidly, pushing the smog high into the lower reaches of the Tasok River.
The two spirits, caught in the wind, briefly collided. Guided by her spiritual intuition, Cyril vaguely saw a middle-aged man with an imposing presence, surrounded by the wind.
He wore a dark blue storm priest's robe, his hair was dark blue, almost pure black, round and thick, short and upright, his earlobes were large, his eyes seemed to always contain lightning and storms, and he had a strong physique.
In the midst of their mental clash, Sirion saw the imposing middle-aged man nod slightly to him.
The Church of Storms takes over the prefecture of Backlund from the Dove of God.
I think his name was Radar Valentine.
Boom!
As my thoughts drifted, lightning flashed across the sky, followed by a deafening roar of thunder.
Soon, a torrential downpour began, washing the earth clean.
Seeing this, Cyril manipulated the wind to bring his body down, while simultaneously pulling a test tube containing a crimson liquid from his pocket.
He pried open the stopper with his thumb and drank the icy liquid in the test tube in one gulp.
His nearly depleted spirituality was quickly replenished, and his pale complexion gradually improved.
This was a potion he had specially ordered from Father Utravsky through Emlin, intended to quickly restore his spirituality.
After his spiritual energy had almost fully recovered, the illusory book reflected in his eyes began to turn its pages once more.
Then, his figure abruptly disappeared into the street.
After flashing several times, he arrived at a deserted and somewhat desolate street.
Opposite him, a "witch" dressed in a simple white robe, with her hair loosely tied up, exuding a charming aura that blended restraint and languor, looked over with a smile.
"The one who takes the punishment, the one on night watch, or the heart of a machine?"
"How did you find me? And so quickly?"
"Hmm, good-looking, commendable courage, but a bit too confident..."
Cyril kept his eyes down and didn't speak. Ever since he came to this street, his spiritual intuition had been warning him that danger came from all directions, from every corner of this street.
He wasn't surprised; clearly, the street had been completely covered by the "Witch of Despair's" plague, which was why it was so quiet.
Without the slightest hesitation, he clasped his hands together and slightly hunched his back.
The illusory pages of the book were rapidly turning in his lowered eyes.
Pieces of pure white, ethereal feathers materialized out of thin air behind him, forming a pair of broad, thick, pure white wings.
"The Ugly Duckling!"
Around him, spider silk, invisible to the naked eye, snapped silently, and the black flames that had just ignited were extinguished in an instant.
Opposite him, the "Despair Witch," who had been all smiles, suddenly trembled uncontrollably, her thoughts seemingly frozen, unable to process a single idea.
Her skin suddenly became translucent, shimmering with colorful starlight. Her loosely tied-up black hair fell away and transformed into slender, serpentine snakes, some flicking their tongues, others sprouting clear black and white eyes.
Amidst the incessant hissing sounds, a layer of crystalline frost rapidly spread along the ground towards Xirein, while black flames spontaneously ignited around him, intertwining to form a black sea of fire.
As the black flames ignited, the figure beneath the broad, pure white wings vanished silently, leaving behind only a crudely cut paper doll.
On the other side of the street, Sirion reached into his pocket and patted it. Several objects radiating a rich spiritual light flew out and slowly swirled around him.
It was a crystal ball with a single azure eye sealed inside, a phantom core interwoven with red (flames) and black (metal), a crystal so transparent it was almost illusory.
Cyril immediately reached out and grasped the illusory core that was intertwined with red and black.
A blue flame ignited in his other free hand, gradually coalescing into a long spear wreathed in flames.
The moment the cyan spear took shape, he took a step forward, used his waist and back strength to throw the spear out.
Every organ and every piece of flesh in her body developed its own thoughts, falling into a semi-out-of-control state. The "Despair Witch," unable to control herself, stood there blankly, and was accurately hit by the flaming spear.
boom!
Whoosh!
Amidst the violent explosion, her body was torn apart, her flesh ignited, and then transformed into countless shards of mirror.
The Witch's Mirror Stand!
Cyril released the illusory core, its red and black hues intertwined, and turned instead toward the crystal, so transparent it was almost ethereal.
Countless tiny, dazzling stars lit up in his eyes, his figure suddenly became illusory, and then vanished into nothingness.
The next second, countless black flames ignited where he stood, turning the surrounding area into a pitch-black sea of fire.
Beyond the sea of fire, a bizarre, twisted humanoid figure, entwined by countless sinister, slippery snakes, with a fist-sized charred hole in its abdomen and flesh constantly cracking and churning, was sketched out out of thin air.
The lingering burning and stinging sensations briefly overwhelmed the nascent consciousness within her, granting her sufficient clarity and control over her body.
Her demigod instincts told her that the damned, weird guy had dodged her attack.
She had no intention of pursuing them; instead, she tried to suppress the anger that kept rising in her heart, and the new consciousness that seemed to be tearing her apart.
More important than killing or seeking revenge now is maintaining your composure in this near-collapse state.
"The source of all disasters, a symbol of destruction and the end times..."
'
Her prayer suddenly stopped; she couldn't utter the third part of the title "Primordial Witch."
Then, her vision blurred, and she suddenly saw another figure appear before her.
She was a young, dark-haired woman.
She was beautiful, but her face was expressionless, and her dark eyes were deep and unfathomable, yet lacked any spirit.
"you..."
The twisted humanoid figure, entwined with thin snakes, took a step back, managing to utter a single word, but unable to say anything more.
The semi-out-of-control "Desperate Witch" belatedly realized that her body below the neck had disappeared.
It's as if an eraser has been used on drawing paper, leaving no trace of its existence.
The next second, her head, covered in thin snakes and with its flesh cracked like old wall paint, also disappeared.
As she disappeared, the silent, burning sea of black flames also extinguished without a sound.
Amidst the sea of fire, Cyril's body solidified from its illusory form.
Looking at the woman in a classic black robe with her back to him, and the "Witch of Despair" who was nowhere to be seen, only one thought remained in his mind:
You're already the MVP of the whole book, why are you trying to steal such a small kill from me?
As his thoughts drifted, he saw the woman in the black robe who had her back to him suddenly turn around, look at him expressionlessly, and then nod almost imperceptibly.