The claws seemed to cut through the space, and the ripples containing power spread instantly, and Victor only felt his eardrums buzzing, and there was some tearing pain. Pen~Fun~Pavilion www.biquge.info he subconsciously pulled out his long sword, but he looked at Monica, who had turned into a vampire, and then at Bishop Vera and the Templars in front of him, and he didn't know how to choose.

The sword froze in midair.

"Victor, I have seen your soul wandering."

The old man's voice rang in his ears. Victor was suddenly shocked, and he saw a familiar figure walking through the crowd in front of the church, and in that row of armor and sword-wielding Templars, Hugo Sr., the "prophet" of the mercenary group, separated from the Templars and the priests, and paced towards the main hall of the church.

He was dressed in a dirty gray robe that was common on weekdays, his arms were bare, and the raised green tendons on his head looked like a piece of dry wood that had been exposed to the scorching sun, but his eyes were not at all as dull and cloudy as usual, and his gaze was far away, and Victor felt that his whole soul seemed to be seen through - the surroundings were terrifyingly quiet, and the scene in his vision froze into a static picture at this moment.

Old Hugo carried a portable bronze oil lamp in his hand, the same style that adventurers had used a hundred years ago - the bottom of the oil lamp was a concave disc holding the oil and wick, and the light of the flame emanated from the hollowed-out shell, his steps were slow, but with each step, Victor seemed to feel everything around him tremble.

"Everything in the world has a reason for existence, and the same is true of the eternal dead."

Old Hugo stopped three steps in front of Monica, a few steps away, the vampire lord who had been revealed was slightly stunned, and she quickly recognized the comer—although there was nothing special about it in terms of clothing and dress, the pure and powerful divine power made her sure in her heart: this was an ascetic in the church.

The ascetic's expression was as if it were withered, and it never changed, and he said such a strange sentence lightly, and the melodious and peaceful tone echoed around him, but Monica gradually became a little nervous - her spiritual perception was focused on the old man, but it was like being wrapped in a thick fog, and there was nothing to be discovered at all.

The same [Transcendent Realm] as her, perhaps, the strength is still above her.

And in front of him, in addition to this ascetic, there is also an awakened bishop, dozens of Templars and priests, in the face of this situation, Monica immediately reacted - in the records of the Council of the Dead, is it not that there has never been a ghost falling into the hands of the Holy Radiance Church, and their fate? It is said that he was imprisoned in the Inquisition, and his body and soul were burned by the holy fire for thousands of years.

She knew she had to fight her way through.

At this time, the sky was covered by heavy black clouds that obscured the already thin and dim moonlight—and the bishop of Vera bowed his head to the ascetic; Miss Alyssa quickly woke up from her coma, and she and her companions, Cody and Lars, looked at Monica in the field; Old Hugo's gaze looked at the sky and muttered to himself......

"But this time, you've gone too far!"

Old Hugo paused, his brows furrowed into several deep furrows, his eyes were like electricity, he raised his arm, and the bronze oil lamp in his hand instantly bloomed with dazzling brilliance - Monica turned her gaze, the light was not a simple flame light, it was full of pure holy radiant power, even as a vampire lord of the [Transcendent Realm], under this ray of light, it was inevitable to feel pain.

"Ahh

Monica screamed, the sound as sharp as a dead branch rubbing against a hard, rough stone, making people's hearts throb inexplicably. A row of diamond-shaped windows at the front of the basilica rattles, and on the crowded field before the steps, the red leaves of the deciduous maple seem to be involved in a fierce whirlpool, painting the picture with a few bright colors in the sky, overhead, and between the figures and figures.

Bishop Vera and the Templars stepped forward in unison. The vampire lord stretched out his sharp claws, and in the whistling air, the cold claw shadow waved into a blurry shadow that almost disappeared - a puff of blood flew, and those well-made enchanted armor instantly turned into a pile of tatters like fragile pieces of paper under the vampire lord's melee attack.

Is this the strength of the Awakened Realm?

Lars stood behind Bishop Vera and muttered, and Miss Alyssa, the knight, wanted to rush up again after waking up from her coma, but the two knights did not hesitate to hold her shoulders - as young people from noble backgrounds, they did not lack the courage to fight, but in the current situation, they had enough self-knowledge: they were by no means capable of participating in the current situation.

The Vampire Lord's attacks are becoming more and more insane and sharp. One by one, the wounded Templars snorted and retreated, because of the sheer superiority in numbers, the encirclement was still tight, Bishop Vera waved his staff, and the milky glow of healing magic kept flooding the crowd, and in the center of the field, the figure of the old man and the vampire lord had already been in a battle.

So far, it's evenly matched.

……

The sound of horses' hooves sounded in the empty and silent streets, and the fur of a war horse at the head was pitch black, like a shadow that was flying fast in the night, Glo was wearing a light leather armor, and the sword [Justice of Justice] hung from his waist, he looked in the direction of the white light rising into the sky in the distance, and pursed his lips.

He and Marculo had just learned from the Clover Manor that he had been wounded, and under the persuasion of Glo, Marculo had finally given up his plans to join the battle - for the sake of the Baron's injury and safety, on the one hand, and on the other hand, Glo had some unreasonable intentions.

It was a dry late autumn in the Northland, but on this night it was drizzling. However, what fell from the sky was not real raindrops, sticky, warm, and a little sniff on the fingertips, with a slight unpleasant fishy smell, Glo raised his head and stretched out his palm, the palm was quickly wet, and the little black horse with deep humanity under him gradually slowed down.

"Swordsman?"

Behind him, a light cavalry captain belonging to the lord's guard shouted. Their team of 100 cavalry came all the way, but when they arrived at this place, seeing that the scene of the incident was not far away, Glo, who was in charge of directing the operation, suddenly stopped, and they couldn't help but be a little confused.

Glo's gaze was long, staring at the white light, and he knew very well that it was the location of the local church in Afron.