Under the huge full moon, on the sand of the dungeon, another gray-haired boy also fell on his side on the sand, unable to speak. He could hear someone screaming in a high-pitched voice in the distance.

"Hoffa!!"

It was the nun's desperate voice.

He struggled to raise his neck, looking at the blade that was sticking out of his chest, and then at the gap in Mance's chest that was still bleeding. He stood like no one was right, and he could feel the rapid passage of life.

Hofa's head was a little dazed, he never thought that a muggle with a hole in the chest could still stand on his own face and poke himself in the chest with a knife, how did he do it?

"How are you....?" Hoffa had trouble breathing.

"Want to know?"

Mance pointed to his chest and smiled, "I won't tell you." ”

He drew his blade and threw the spike away with a thud. The bloody steel thorns rolled out of the sand, and then, unequivocally, he dragged Chloe, who was crying on her knees, twisted her neck, and forced her to look at Hoffa,

"Look at him and appreciate how your friend was when he died. If you still want to save those kids, you'd better meet my expectations quickly. ”

Hoffa wanted to say something, he didn't know what he wanted to say, maybe it was to curse the bastard, maybe to comfort the nun at the end, but he found that he couldn't do anything.

"You let go of me, let go of my ......!"

The nun was dragged by Mance and drifted away like a broken sack.

Life was running out at breakneck speed, and his strength was no longer enough to support him to do anything more, and he slipped from the corner of the wall to the ground clutching his chest, the darkness gradually eating away at his pupils.

The last image he saw was Mance dragging the nun with the group of children, walking farther and farther away, and finally disappearing from his vision.

Are you going to die?

He didn't see any chance, it was the final injury he'd ever suffered, and the closest he came to death. He's completely stepped into the hell gate. In the dark, he even saw the Grim Reaper smiling at him.

At this moment, a thousand kinds of helplessness came to my heart.

If you fall short, it's a little, a little. He will be able to send the nun to London, and perhaps Fatil will use her powers to change history, and perhaps he will be able to see Aglaia in his lifetime.

Aglaia ...... Thinking of her, a sharp pain burned in Hoffa's body, and he couldn't help but start moaning. It was an irrepressible desire to survive that erupted deep in the heart.

To die? No, he must not die.

His life was burdened with her expectations, and he could not die no matter what.

But his heart has been pierced, even in the activated state, it can't repair such a fatal wound, he keeps turning magic into life, but life flows out along the wound without dying.

He lay on the ground, racking his brains for a way not to die. But no matter how you think about it, it seems unrealistic, and there is not even a living person around him.

A great uneasiness overwhelmed him like the sea, his soul was like a candle in the wind, and it was pitch black as far as his eyes could see, and only his numb lips could taste the blood flowing from his heart.

Is there still a chance?

Feel the warmth on your lips.

That's the temperature of the blood.

Stimulated by this smell, a bold and crazy idea was born. There's one last chance.

He used all his strength to transform all his magic power into life, barely opened his eyes, supported himself, and gasped, dragging himself little by little, crawling towards the pool of blood in the distance.

Eventually, he stopped at the edge of the marble pool, where he could no longer breathe, and was only a stone's throw away from death.

Blood dripped from his mouth and he was so groggy that he couldn't do anything.

The moonlight broke through the clouds again, shining down from the dome, and the pool of boiling blood had subsided, but after it tasted Hoffa's blood, it boiled again, like an organic life with an unusually excited nature.

Then, countless bloody hands made of blood reached out of the pool of blood, grabbed Hoffa's body, and pulled him down from the center of the pool.

With a soft pop. Without the slightest splash, the pool of blood returned to calm and no longer boiled.

The intense pain was gone, the desperate fight paid off, and some magical power enveloped him, making him feel the ultimate warmth, a feeling he had never experienced before, as if he was back in his mother's womb.

Under the action of some force, the broken heart reassembles little by little, returns, and becomes a whole, a new and unknown thing.

At this moment, he can breathe in blood, and he can even see everything outside through the blood. The bright moon, and the shadows dancing in the moonlight.

Broken images and murmurs enveloped him, and he heard something whispering in his ear, "After sleep, awaken the sleeping Blood Queen, eight beasts, born in eight restless nights, holy nails pierce the flesh of sinners, a prayer for the summoned hero......."

Whispers rang out of his ears, and he raised his head from the sea of blood, countless bloody hands supporting him. Let him get closer and closer to the moon in the sky, and he could see the craters that were all over the planet, and a veiled, but featureless woman, who was covered in a hazy light, and whose fingers flew like silk in the moon.

"Light was born of darkness, but turned its back on it, cursed it, was liberated from the long night, and slept in the short day......"

The whispering never stopped, and it didn't seem like a person talking again, but the noisy whispers of countless people, and the satin-like fingers wrapped Hoffa little by little, binding him tightly, and the huge phantom lifted him up and flew towards the woman's head little by little.

The distance is getting closer, getting closer.

Then, he saw that the woman's head, which had no facial features, cracked like a zipper, and behind that crack was a brilliant Milky Way, which made people yearn for it.

He marveled at the beauty and the warmth of being enveloped, and for a moment he was fascinated, allowing his flying fingers to wrap around him, sending himself into the void of the giant mouth.

"If I were you, I probably wouldn't surrender so easily, and it's too cheap. Suddenly, another voice whispered in his ear. The voice was different from those whispers, it was clear, smooth, and devoid of emotion.

Alerted by the voice, Hoffa woke up.

The hazy woman in the moon disappears, and the beautiful starlight disappears.

He only saw that in the pool of blood, his muscles were expanding wildly, and countless fleshy thorns were growing from every corner of his body, and on those fleshy thorns grew fine and hideous human faces, they were wailing, in pain, and tearing.

"Damn it!"

He was completely awakened, the inexplicable blood poured into his body along his wounds, his bone marrow seemed to be burned, his blood vessels were like being poured with acid, and what was even more terrifying was that in the blood pool, there was an unknown huge spiritual force, this strange and unpredictable spiritual power was unprecedentedly powerful, just a little contamination, he was in danger of being assimilated.

He threw his head back and slammed it against the marble floor, trying to shake the whispers out of his ear. But to no avail, his sense of self is rapidly fading, and will soon become something else.

So he quickly climbed onto the stone wall and tried to climb outward. A ripple appeared on the calm pool of blood, and Hoffa held out his hand. But in less than a second, he was pulled back into the blood pool by the incomparable force, and the blood pool returned to calm again.

This time, however, the brief lull lasted less than ten breaths.

Suddenly, a pool of blood boiled like a pulp.

A huge four-winged bird circled and roared out of the pool of blood, it was covered in gelatinous blood like asphalt, and before it could fly ten meters high, it was pulled back into the pool of blood and fell into it with a bang, splashing a large field of blood.

"In the world, life and death are unpredictable, even the most powerful wings are, it is difficult to move an inch......" Countless voices kept noisy in his ears, making him upset.

The Thunderbird roared and burst out of the pool of blood once more. His sharp claws clung to the edge of the pool of blood. Countless blood dances behind him were about to pull him back into the sea of blood.

In the deep castle, under the quiet white moonlight.

There was a strange scene, the blood in the pool of blood condensed into a huge arm, it was like a chicken, it grabbed the thunderbird in its hands, and smashed it all around, threatening to submit him.

"After staggering, I will take what you want!"

The voices grew louder and louder, and they frantically devoured Hoffa's body and mind. The more he struggled, the stronger the superhuman power became. The hall is getting more and more damaged. The beautiful ceiling was reduced to smithereens, rumbling down, and the delicious food on the table was smashed into a pile of mud.

His heart was beating violently, almost out of his chest, and every pulse beat was like a new flame that ran through his body. He twitched helplessly, his head like a sphere filled with excruciating pain, on the verge of bursting. Hoarse chirpings echoed throughout the castle.

The two forces were at a stalemate, and Hoffa knew that he wouldn't hold out for long, and as soon as he ran out of strength, he would immediately become one of the countless whispering voices. Outside the pool of blood, he faces the threat of physical death, and inside the pool of blood, he faces the danger of being devoured spiritually. Who's going to help me in this damn world?

He was anxious.

As if hearing his prayer, another voice sounded in his ears, "If you could survive a nightmare, would you still jump into a pool of blood?" The unknown voice asked, "If you could only choose between nightmares and bloodsucking at night, what would you choose?"

"I don't choose anything....."

"You're going to die. Another voice said calmly: "Bach, no one can help you." There are only two options, either to suck someone's blood every night or to have nightmares every night. ”

"If I have to, I'd rather have nightmares. ”

The bloody hand didn't move, and after calming down for three breaths, it collapsed, and the entwined blood receded from his body, disappearing into a pool of blood, turning into countless stars of red light, dissipating and evaporating into the air.

The Thunderbird fell into the dry pool of blood with a thud, shrunk little by little, and turned into a gray-haired boy with no wisps.

Slowly, very slowly, very slowly, the pain subsided little by little, and it felt like a thousand years. He quivered feebly, inhaling desperately through his stabbing throat, as if another thousand years had passed before he could barely stand up. The muscles of his body seemed to turn into water, so he had to use his hands and feet at the same time, and finally stood up tremblingly, staggering and groping forward.

Finally, he crawled out of the pool of blood, and within a few steps, he stepped on a corpse and fell to the ground with a thud. It was pitch black in front of him, and it took a long time for that darkness to turn into the lines of the floor, and his pupils gradually focused.

Everything in front of him was unusually bright, but there was not much color, and he could clearly see the expressions on the faces of the corpses lying on the side of the ground, every speck of dust drifting in the air, and even the patterns of gargoyles sculptures on the Gothic spires in the distance.

The night became as clear as the day at this moment, a feeling he had never experienced before, as if his eyes had become an infrared night vision camera.

"What happened?"

He looked at the fingerprints on his palm, and everything that had just happened was still vivid, the phantom shadow in the moon, the whisper in the sea of blood. Everything was so clear, and it was all like nothing I had ever seen before.

Looking at his chest again, the wound pierced by Mance had healed at the moment, but it was covered with a bright red scar, which was symmetrically distributed on the chest, and it was three rings intertwined, and the intertwined parts of the rings formed one curved crescent after another. The pattern is rough and not smooth, as if it had been randomly painted by a primitive man with a tree branch.

He had seen this pattern before, and the female vampire had drawn it on the ground with blood when she opened the dungeon.

What does this mean? He could feel some obscure and ancient power in the pattern, but he couldn't describe it.

When I looked up at the moon in the sky, it had become exactly the same as the moon I saw on a regular day, that is, it was not big, and there were no monsters in it, but it hung in the sky in a round, ordinary and ordinary like the one it had maintained every day for hundreds of thousands of years, without any difference.

"You're alright. ”

At this time, someone in his ear asked him this.

The voice is ethereal and does not distinguish between men and women, and it sounds very neutral. It was the voice that had just reminded itself in the sea of blood.

"Who are you?"

Hoffa sat up straight, there was no living person around him, but he was in the pool of blood just now, and it was the voice that was asking him some strange questions.

"I'm on your waist. ”

The voice reminded him.

Startled, Hoffa picked up the orb, and the tentacles flew in it, and the little tentacle monster he had found in the English Channel was flickering rapidly in the orb.