The handmade holy silver bullet is pressed onto the chamber of the gun, embedded in the firing port under the action of the machine spring, and then the primer bursts out between the blows, and the huge kinetic energy that bursts out in the small space pushes the sharp bullet to rotate rapidly in the rifling of the barrel, and finally rushes out of the muzzle like a sharp arrow in the flash of fire.

It will smash anything in its way with the undisguised malice of the user... It doesn't matter if it's flesh or monsters.

"Bang"

Before the dementor who was whistling down from the sky could let out a full roar, its ugly little head was completely lifted open by the Holy Silver Bullet, this strange substance extracted from Mithril has extreme positive energy, and with the blessing of kinetic energy, it is simply a cruel weapon of destruction for the Dementors who are riddled with negative energy.

The dementor's convulsive body fell from the sky, like the beginning of another siege.

Tyrion held his gun in both hands, separated from the sides, and within his vision of less than 20 meters, there were crazy Dementors howling out everywhere, and it was hard not to think of the scene of zombies coming out of the cage.

"Bang, bang, bang"

The rhythmic sound of gunfire rang out over the dark wilderness, and a succession of Dementors were torn open by the Holy Silver Bullets, and the wounds on the black bodies continued to corrode even after they were "dead", but until now, Tyrion couldn't be sure if he had actually killed even one Dementor.

He had carefully observed that after these creatures were shattered, their viscous, oil-covered corpses would quickly "volatilize", as if it was a process of energy conversion, and these slain Dementors seemed to return to a corner of the world, and then reborn in a steady stream.

In short, in the pungent smoke of gunpowder, the Dementors on both sides were repelled by the rapid-fire pistols that were constantly firing, but the Dementors from the front and back made it impossible for Tyrion to shoot calmly, and in the dementor pounce, he turned his body sideways and passed between the two Dementors, then lowered his hands and pulled the trigger.

"Bang, bang"

Two more torn corpses were under his feet, but soon, the twin guns in Tyrion's hands disappeared between his fingers, and the three bottles containing the Holy Fire Oil were thrown out by the High Lord and smashed into the ground around him, igniting the approaching Dementors on all sides, and between the rising flames, between the screams of the Dementors, the magical light of the ring in Tyrion's hand shimmered, and in their place were black heavy machine guns held by Tyrion's hands.

Much like the kind of "grinder" that Black Cord sold to the Minotaurs, but instead of a wobble handle, instead of a black hedron embedded in the back of the machine gun, the Grand Lord held the back handle of the machine gun in one hand and the lever above the machine gun in the other, and the six barrels on the front of the heavy weapon began to spin rapidly between the flashes of the red buttons.

The Great Lord stood in place, looking at the claws of the Dementor less than 1 meter away from him, as if he was about to be torn apart by this claw in the next moment, however, in his ice-blue eyes, there was no thought of dodging backwards.

The Dementor was about to do so, and it let out a roar of chaotic joy, ignoring the steel barrel that had touched its body.

Looking at the dementor, the Great Lord smiled slightly, and he whispered:

"I don't like people getting so close to me... Thank you. ”

"Bang Bang"

The low roar of tearing cloth and the red light like lightning and thunder pierced the darkness that roamed the periphery, and the Dementor who almost succeeded was slashed into real pieces by the scythe-like blade of light, and even the companions behind it were completely wiped out in less than 2 seconds.

Tyrion reversed course, he looked at the Dementors who had been completely shattered in extreme firepower, and there was no mercy in his eyes, the carnage lasted less than 10 seconds, and the Dementors who rushed in from all directions were reduced to disgusting shards of darkness.

"Click"

With a crisp thud, the scorching smoke of the cannon stopped, and was tossed back into the storage ring by Tyrion.

This thing is heavy, and for Tyrion, who has lost his great strength, the vibration of fighting with this thing and the strength required to hold it will quickly put him into a state of exhaustion, in this strange world, he is completely an ordinary High Elf except for his soul, and with his slender stature, this thing is not suitable for him.

So he wouldn't use it unless it was an emergency.

"Click"

The empty magazine was tossed on the ground, and Tyrion took a new pistol magazine from his belt and loaded it into a rapid-fire pistol, he looked left and right, stepped over the still burning flame, and in the horrific pile of black corpses, he found a Dementor with his legs broken and unable to move.

"What a lucky guy..."

The Grand Lord looked condescendingly at the monster struggling on the ground, his arm raised slightly, and pointed the muzzle of the gun at the guy, his finger on the trigger, and at this moment, the Dementor seemed to sense that death was imminent, its slender and strange hands propped up on the ground, and turned around in an extremely weird, creepy manner, aiming his face at Tyrion.

It let out a screech...

It's not fear, it's not senseless intimidation, the Great Lord understands... Or maybe he felt it in the lucky one, a hint of anger.

A hint of weird, but really there... Wrath.

"If you're smart enough, then you should know that at this time, you're asking for mercy!"

The Great Lord shrugged his shoulders and pulled the trigger nonchalantly, and after a muffled sound, the entire wasteland fell silent.

The entire skull of the Dementor in front of him had been torn open and he had died a horrible death, but the strange anger that remained in Tyrion's heart made him somewhat puzzled.

Before his death, he was an elite ranger, the best hunter among the High Elves, and in his youth, he also hunted down rare and dangerous beasts in the Yongsong Forest with Aurelia as a training subject.

He had seen countless times the posture of the beast when it was dying, or the frenzied counterattack, or the trembling of fear, or the calm waiting for death to come, maybe they looked angry, but most of the time, it was just the anger caused by the fear of being hurt, not pure emotion, it was a physiological psychological state.

In fact, Tyrion rarely saw pure anger, but he looked at the corpse of the Dementor in front of him, and he felt that its anger was not because it was hurt and killed, nor because of the death and injury of its companions, and that anger was unlike anything Tyrion had ever seen.

"Hurt, provoked, or vented when things don't go well, but anger can't be set up after tomorrow, it must be injected in the first place... Why did your creator give you such complex emotions, which the soul predators don't need, you live off the emotions of other souls, or rather, this is hatred that cannot be precipitated, and hatred that leads to anger and destruction. ”

The High Lord crouched down in front of the Dementor corpse, and as he looked at the ugly corpse, his eyes narrowed:

"So, what exactly do you want from us? Is it just mere emotional dregs? ”

Tyrion thought of his journey into the Dead in this dark wasteland, and he had dealt with Dementors countless times, but he had never thought so deeply about the origin of such strange monsters as he did today.

Perhaps it was his Vagri Agassa and some of the claims of the little ghost Yuna that misled him and made him ignore these "scavengers" and "raiders" born naturally from the Dead from the beginning, and the High Lord suddenly realized that all his previous speculations about the "crown" had ignored the existence of the Dementors.

But in this uninhabited wilderness, there are only Dementors here besides him and Yuna.

Their combat power is so weak, they can't be the opponent of him and Yuna who have been assimilated by the Death Realm, right! They were also afraid of Yuna's wand shots, even though the stars from the stupid boy's wand wouldn't hurt them at all... There must be a reason for that!

The High Lord sat cross-legged in the wasteland, realizing that he was likely to solve the riddle of the "crown" that had been around since he met Yuna.

He suddenly remembered the first time he and Yuna entered the realm of death, when Yuna ran into the darkness to find Noor, when he faced a huge number of Dementors alone, the actions of those Dementors...

Yes!

Tyrion's gaze deepened, the Dementors could hurt him, but they didn't, they just kept going over his body with their weird spirits that were somewhere between physical and illusory...

At that time, he and Yuna both thought that it was the attack method of the Dementors, but now there are too many Dementors who have died in his hands, and the Great Lord has figured out that the attack methods of these Dementors are definitely not single, that is to say, the crossing of the spirit body is not a vicious attack.

Maybe... Maybe they weren't meant to attack either, they just wanted something, something important from him, the soul? Or is it emotion? Or is it something more obscure but real?

Tyrion looked back at the fragments of the bodies of the Dementors that had gradually dissipated across the land of the Dead Realm, and he suddenly remembered the crown of black iron rings he had always worn on his head during the time when he was once known as the "King of the Dark Blades", the crown of ice that he had made with his own hands.

The crown, which is a symbol of status and power, is a symbol of the lord of a country, and a symbol of having everything.

Tyrion's fingers moved, he looked at the rapid-fire pistol in his hand, and he muttered to himself:

"The third hell of the ownerless, the administrator... The Ascension and Continuation of Death, Hela, Bonsandy, Rulers... Crown! Right! Crown! ”

"I'm here to govern and rule this borderland, I need that power, I need that crown... But when I put on the crown, I will be the lord of this land, and I will rule over everything in this land, these Dementors..."

The High Lord took a deep breath, and he understood what this riddle meant, or rather, this challenge... This "trial" given to him by the realm of death.

"A good ruler should be admired by the people, not a tyrant who kills the people indiscriminately, power represents responsibility and mission, and the crown represents leadership and protection, wrong... Wrong from the beginning, slaughter and occupation are the actions of raiders, to get the crown, to get the crown, what is needed is... Accept it! ”

"Accept it all... Be a part of them, no, no, no! Not assimilation... It's about reshaping..."

"Buzz"

A probing Dementor stared at Tyrion's back from the sky, and it landed silently on the ground in an offensive stance, and the High Lord turned his head at this moment, but this time, he didn't raise his pistol.

"Is that all you want me to do?"

"If you want to wear a crown, you must bear its weight..."

He glanced at the pistol in his hand, shook his head, and threw it on the ground ...

The king does not need such weapons, the king's weapons are more powerful ... Those people who will always follow the shadow of the king are his real weapons, his true strength.

Nor will the rulers of the Dead need the powers of this world, because those powers do not belong to this world... It cannot be assimilated by the rules of the Dead Realm at all.

This world has erased all the power of Tyrion in reality, it has given him new power, the power waiting for him to discover, the power that belongs only to the realm of death, the power of death... True! One of the six basic forces of the so-called stars, death... Death is not ugly, and death has its own rules and order.

Tyrion doesn't get it yet, but that's okay... He will soon understand.

"The power of the king is always by his side..."

The High Lord stepped forward, he looked at the ugly Dementor in front of him, he tilted his head, and after a few breaths and thoughts, he raised his hand towards the Dementor, an action that startled the Dementor who appeared alone.

Tyrion looked at it, he felt a trace of dazed and helpless from the dementor's movements, the high lord closed his eyes and stretched out his finger to the monster bred in the darkness, the strange creature shaped by some kind of will in this world, his future... People.

At the moment when the black and white fingers touched, at the moment when the cold, gloomy, all-encompassing darkness stretched on his fingers, he whispered:

"Come!"

"Follow me."