After a few days of training, López's strength, patience and flexibility have improved a lot.

But in the blink of an eye, it was already the day when the recruits of the White Knights reported.

The other day Nalse had promised Don Quixote to help him train the recruits, so now he was riding over.

The journey to the barracks wasn't that far, but it wasn't easy for López, who was running behind Narse.

Fortunately, Narse slowed down, otherwise López would have been left behind.

He struggled to follow closely, and even though his physical fitness had improved a lot, it was quite difficult for him to run this section without being thrown away.

The weight of the armor is weighing on the body mercilessly.

At this time, López was adjusting his breathing little by little.

If he continued to maintain this irregular breathing rate, his lungs would not have reached the end.

Before they knew it, the two had already walked more than half of the distance.

The good news is that López's breathing rate is much more stable now than it was at the beginning.

He still struggled to follow Narse, but the pain in his trachea and lungs had eased, and it shouldn't be a problem to run the whole way in this state.

But Nelsey certainly won't let López go so easily.

He glanced back, then nodded in satisfaction.

Then, a malicious smile appeared on his face: "Oh no, López, we seem to be going to be late, it looks like we're going to have to speed up." ”

As he spoke, Nelsey's speed slowly increased, and he soon left López far behind.

Lopez's clumsy acting skills made López very helpless: "Are you a fool? Master." ”

Of course he wanted to complain, but he couldn't speak right now, unless his lungs wanted to appreciate what it meant to be cold and cold.

He silently tried his best to increase his speed.

But even so, it's hard for him to keep up with the pace of Narse.

The distance between the two began to slowly widen farther and farther.

In the distance, Narse didn't have the slightest intention of slowing down.

López, who was behind, had to continue to increase the speed under his feet, but he still couldn't keep up with Narse.

His body gradually became a little weak, and he didn't seem to have any strength in his legs.

Little by little, the figure of Narse is getting smaller.

The distance is stretched infinitely.

At the same time, López's body's oxygen demand increased as he exercised more intensely.

He had to take another big breath.

The cold air kept his body from being deprived of oxygen, and the abundant oxygen also gave his body some strength.

In contrast, there was a strong pain in his lungs.

In this regard, he can only bear it silently.

The speed gradually increased, and the back of Narse appeared in front of him again.

López leaned in little by little, and with each breath, the pain in his lungs increased by a point.

It's a little unbearable, but he has no intention of giving up, and perhaps, it's not a bad thing that life has honed him for perseverance.

The thought popped into López's head.

After a while, the sound of the horse's cry was remembered, and Narse also stopped, and the lively military camp was in front of him.

Lopez finished the race unconsciously, and he slowly sat down, with intense pain in his lungs and trachea.

López coughed loudly, feeling like he might cough up blood at any moment.

"Wait here for me López, I'll go in first to see what happens. So saying, Narse tied the rope of his horse to a tree beside him.

After tying up his horse, Narse turned and walked into the barracks.

At this time, López did not bother to respond to Nalse, he was trying his best to suppress the amplitude of his breathing.

The sword around his waist had somehow become a little warm, but he didn't care about it now.

The sun had climbed into the sky, and the sun was shining on Zreitla.

The human frontier is desolate, and corpses can be found everywhere they go.

However, this purgatory-like scene is not the work of the Demon Dragon.

This is a withdrawal pattern painted by Hunger himself.

Tel Aviv is slowly moving forward.

It's been almost a month since the plague, but the kingdom had only moved a few days earlier.

At first, the king meant to suppress the rampaging refugees, as they had already begun to plunder the food of the surrounding villages.

However, because the final situation was more than expected, the king had to give an order to distribute relief food.

But no one thought that there would be a magic dragon, which made things even worse.

While he was thinking, there was a sudden whimpering sound in front of him, which made Tel Aviv nervously handle his staff.

He could not afford to let up in the slightest, and now the refugees were extremely aggressive.

But when he looked closely, he realized that he was just a dying child.

This made Tel Aviv feel a little distressed, his age, he shouldn't have experienced such a thing, just like himself.

Childhood memories made him let down his guard, quickly dismounted, and then slowly walked towards the child.

When he came closer, he took out the grain and grass he was carrying from the bag he was carrying and handed it to the child.

And the child grabbed it without the slightest hesitation, hunger had long since made him forget to think.

"Ahem, ahem. He coughed loudly and pounded his chest hard, as if he had choked on food because he was in too much urgency.

Seeing this, Tel Aviv exhaled deeply, and then handed the water over.

The boy did not hesitate at all, snatched the water bag, and drank it in a big gulp.

Seeing that the boy had regained some of his complexion, Tel Aviv opened his mouth and asked, "What's your name?"

The child's empty eyes were mixed with a hint of cunning, and he raised his head to look at Tel Aviv cautiously, and then replied a little shyly: "Lord Reverend, my name is Achill. ”

Tel Aviv wasn't surprised that he recognized himself as a priest, as the clothes on his body were not unrecognizable.

He stood up with the bag he was carrying: "If you still have the strength, go to the surrounding villages and towns that are not endangered." ”

This is already the greatest help he can give at this time.

"Yes, Reverend. Achill whispered, and walked lightly in the direction behind Tel Aviv.

Tel Aviv mounted his horse and was about to continue on his way, but Archiel took advantage of this opportunity to pull off the bag behind his back, and then fled frantically into the distance.

Tel Aviv took the staff and turned around with an ice blade.

However, at the moment of ejaculation, Tel Aviv raised the staff a little higher for some reason.

Iceblade brushed Achill past him, and he missed the only chance he could stop Antonis.

The only bit of fresh water left on him now was.

His face became a little gloomy, and his chin was buried deep in the high collar of his priest's robe.

The horse began to walk forward.

His dream was to become a pastor, and as a child, he thought that pastors were very powerful, they believed in the Lord and upheld justice in the world.

Every day he fantasizes about becoming a priest, becoming a hero, and destroying the darkness.

To this end, he worked hard little by little.

He is constantly learning every day, tirelessly.

As a child, he experienced a lot of things, and he will never be able to let go of them for the rest of his life.

Eventually, he got his wish, and he was found to have a very high talent for practicing magic.

Slowly, he was recognized by His Holiness the Pope, adopted by him as an apprentice, and finally became a true priest.

His original heart is revenge, and then he wholeheartedly defends the Lord, upholds justice, and purifies all evil in the world.

But little by little, he saw power and desire, he slowly became decayed, and he became more and more numb.

He lost his faith and called himself a loyal dog of the Holy See.

But there are only loyal dogs left, and his heart has long been unable to be called a believer.

Since a long time ago, his dream has ceased to be to uphold justice.

His dreams have been deeply corrupted by reality.

What is it that he is working so hard for?