The pale waning moon hangs over Victoria, sprinkling the moonlight on St. Bell's II, a neat backyard decorated in the Victorian style, filled with the intoxicating scent of lycoris flowers and the chill of frozen bones.

A devil's altar with a Victorian style is placed in the center of the courtyard, and it should be a place of sacrifice to a certain great devil, and the aura of despair envelops the entire backyard, constantly permeating outward.

Brighter stood on the altar, four servants kneeling around, daggers held alof, praying to the devil's pact in Bright's hand, and Bright's voice came out of his hoarse voice.

“Ομεγάλοςαπελπίζωνμονάρχης.”

The head of one of the servants exploded, blood rushing to the altar, and a bright red phantus of an inverted pentagram appeared behind Bright.

“Οπιστόςσουυπηρέτηςσουσουφέρνειθυσίες.”

One of the servants' limbs had been severed with a dagger and turned into simmering ashes, leaving only his torso twisted and twisted, his face full of ferventness and smirk.

Σεπαρακαλώ，έλα.”

The last two servants stabbed their bodies with daggers, and their bodies burst into flames and turned into embers with a strange smile.

Dust and blood trickled down the altar, and the phantom behind Brightle solidified and descended on him.

When the little ghost tumbled into the courtyard, the ritual had already begun, and he tried to rush up several times to interrupt, but was bounced back by an indescribable force, so he had to sit down cross-legged and suppress the blood gushing in his body. Take advantage of the short time to regain your strength.

The gray mist enveloped the entire altar, and the little ghost could not peek into the situation, only feeling that great evil was constantly growing.

The gray mist gradually dissipated, revealing a tall humanoid creature that matched the most perfect golden ratio of human aesthetics in both stature and appearance, but the two short horns that shimmered with pale magic light above its head and the pitch-black batwing spreading out from its back gave the creature a sinister conclusion.

The little ghost got up and stared vigilantly at the devil in front of him, from the appearance it seemed that it had not yet reached the golden level of the great devil, but the strong aura of despair emanating from his body confirmed that he was a descendant of the Desperate Monarch.

"An underage ghost?" the devil said in their own language, his voice chattering with a deadly temptation. "When did such a small ghost clan deserve my shot?"

"The descendant of that bat from Disbael?" the little ghost clenched his long knife and asked loudly, no matter how restrained the ghost clan was against the devil, no matter how powerful the ghost bloodline was, the bloodlines of the two sides were too different. He was struggling a little at the moment, he never expected Brighter to summon such a powerful devil.

"Crawler, you deserve to call the Desperate Monarch by name?" the Devil was a little furious when he heard the inquiry, he was not yet an adult, and he did not understand the intrigues of which Disbael was most proud, and looked a little stunned.

"What? Is that filthy hellbat resurrected? I remember urinating in its head!" laughed the little ghost, he wasn't very afraid of death, but he was a little ashamed of his people, and he might not have a chance to return to his kingdom.

The devil was furious to the extreme, laughing, and reached out to condense a staff with the remaining gray mist and blood, and the bright red crystal shimmered with pale magical light.

His skull was almost condensed with a demon core, and this high-ranking creature with a powerful bloodline would enter a level that matched the bloodline level when it reached adulthood, a talent that the mortal race could not match.

The little ghost tightened his palms, holding the long knife tightly, his sense of vigilance rose to the peak, forcibly urging his already overdrawn bloodline, even if he didn't die today, I am afraid he would become crippled.

The devil raises his staff and chants incantations, and the power of the devil is so obvious that it is like a beacon in the magically prosperous Victoria, and when the Terran powerhouses will ruthlessly obliterate it. At this moment, he only dared to suppress the scope of his power in the second courtyard of St. Bell.

From time to time, resentful spirits flashed in the courtyard, and all the lives in this courtyard were converted into resentful spirits, which was not allowed even in the realm of the dead, and was an absolute evil act.

"What? Do you hell bats only use these vile methods?" the little ghost laughed, but was actually wary.

The resentful spirit flutters around the courtyard, constantly rushing towards the little ghost, and once it comes into contact with the body, it will trigger the despair aura from the desperate devil and weaken the opponent.

The little ghost kept swinging the long knife, but it didn't do much damage to the resentful spirit, and he didn't know how to do magic at the moment, like a knife and fish, and he could only do the most basic defense - burning the magic power in his body to prevent the resentful soul from harming.

The devil dragged the staff and gradually approached, the bright red crystal grinded sparks on the marble slab, the little ghost's physical strength and magic power were consumed by a large number of resentful spirits, and there were constantly resentful spirits breaking through his defenses and passing through his body, and the cold feeling made the little ghost feel like he was in an ice cellar, and the speed of swinging the knife gradually slowed down.

"What's the matter, my dear little highness, why don't you harden your mouth?" the devil kept whispering, unleashing a breath of despair with one hand, and the resentful spirits pounded the little ghost's body even more violently.

Desperation gradually overtakes the psychological defenses of the little ghosts, which is the usual method used by the devils of Desperate Hell to deal with their enemies, weakening their opponents, often in a head-on duel, when the opponent is already vulnerable.

Two hundred years ago, the Desperate Monarch descended on the main plane, and the contemporary Ghost King led the whole clan to conquer, but the Ghost Clan suffered heavy losses, the Ghost King and the four-color Ghost Clan patriarch were all killed in battle, and the ghost gods fell seven or eight out of ten, only in exchange for the head of the Desperate Monarch, after the war, the previous generation of green ghost patriarchs tried their last strength to drag the remnants of the body to hang the head of the Desperate Monarch on the gate of the Ghost Capital, and died of despair.

This result is known as the greatest feats of the human race.

However, after that war, the ghost clan recovered for a hundred years, and only two epic powerhouses of the previous generation of ghost kings and green ghosts were born, and they were taken advantage of by the Aslan Empire to destroy the country.

The scene of the fall of the homeland flashed in his mind, remembering the greatest battle feat of the human race created by his grandfather who he had never met, and his chaotic thoughts broke through the last barrier of the little ghost, although the ghost tribe trained children harshly, but did not teach them not to provoke their opponents casually, and he still looked very immature without the company of the strong people of the same race.

He knelt on one knee, holding a long knife in his hand, panting heavily, even the Youmei rune on his forehead was dim, the feeling of overdrawn blood was very uncomfortable, and only despair and gloom remained on his delicate and beautiful face.

The devil had already walked up to him and picked up the little ghost's chin with his long sword, "My dear little highness, you look really cute like this, if you are not a lowly ghost clansman, I may be able to keep you as a pet." As he spoke, he raised his leg and kicked the little ghost to the ground, "My ancestors were only framed by your lowly and filthy methods, otherwise they would not have died so miserably." ”

"Heh... Scold... Damn hell bats, you really don't want any face" The little ghost's already fair complexion turned even paler, like a little beast that had been frostbitten, still stubbornly insulting the devil in front of him.

"Do you think your nonsense can still irritate me?" the devil sneered, reaching out and grabbing the little ghost's neck, lifting him up in the air.

"With the same blood of the Heavenly Lords, the same depravity, why can you live in the sun, and we will go to hell to live?" the devil roared, and the rising veins distorted his perfect face.

"......" The little ghost's neck was pinched, and he couldn't say a word, he struggled, his legs kicked wildly in the air, but to little effect.

The devil thrust his staff into the marble floor, clenched his fist and smashed it into the belly of the little ghost, sending the little ghost flying out and hitting the wall.

"Ahem... Ahem—" The little ghost coughed violently, his hands on his chest, he felt his bones break a lot, and the painful sensation made him sober from the frenzy of his blood.

The little ghost is now powerless, and tears of despair are crushed by absolute power, just waiting for the devil to kill him.

"It hurts... I'm sorry everyone... I can't go on living..."

"Need help?" Suddenly, a soft female voice rang in the little ghost's ears.

The little ghost looked up and looked around to see that there was no living creature in the yard except for the devil who was constantly approaching him...