"Praise the Mentor! Praise the dead! ”

A gruff man with a bird's beak mask laughed, took a long sip of wine, and roared, "Cut off their heads!" Crush their bones! Let these miscellaneous people be grateful for Dade's dead balls! ”

"Praise the Teacher, praise Death—"

Behind him, the black-clad soldiers wearing the same beak masks shouted praises to their mentor in unison as they took a step forward.

Countless vines, dark green sharp leaves, hot beams of light, and colorful powders arrived in front of these crows at the same time.

But in front of them, silver-gray ripples like water waves unfolded quietly, and all of these things were intercepted without exception, and mercury-like flames appeared in the void, quickly incinerating them without letting them have any effect.

The sturdy vines, withered black roots, and bloodthirsty vines that frantically thrashed were useless even if they were blessed to resist the heat. The silvery-white flame, though deadly heated, was not affected by resistance to the heat at all.

What's even more terrifying is that not only were the vines burned out, but the silver-gray flames burned all the way back without any reason. The moment some of the unprepared druids were touched by the silver-gray flames, these flames suddenly went berserk, and the temperature rose several times, and even the people around them would be burned or spontaneously combusted, and in an extremely short and miserable wail, they were instantly burned into gray embers, leaving no human form behind.

Even if they cut off the vines and roots, the flames would still spread and burn on the surrounding trees and ground, like igniting the spirits on the ground.

Silver-gray flames spread quietly on the ground, and ancient trees were ignited. The silver-gray flames were like huge maws rising from the ground, engulfing the ancient trees in one gulp.

It's magical. These flames do no harm to any life that has no will. They lay quietly on the trees, almost frozen. Stained the entire tree silvery white to protect them from the heat. From a distance, it looks like a sculpture made of silver.

The silver-white flames advanced slowly, slowly but unstoppably.

Opposite them, the faces of the druids who were hiding in the forest suddenly turned pale.

"No! I can't beat it! ”

"- My Gaia!"

Feeling the pressure of the gradually advancing crows, feeling the increasingly scorching air, and looking at the army of crows that were twisted and deformed like demons in the steaming and distorted air, the druids finally collapsed their senses.

They wept and wailed, completely abandoned resistance, and fell to their knees to wail.

Amid their mourning, the morale of the surrounding druids quickly faltered.

"Shall we surrender? As long as we add-"

Half of the face of a tear-stained, expectant girl was suddenly gnawed off by the vines that jumped up from the ground like a giant python. She lost her life without even feeling the pain. Weakly fell to the ground with his back facing the sky. Only half of her brain and blood poured out, and several vines swarmed up, tearing her corpse apart and devouring it.

"There's no way back." Sighing, the old voice rang out behind the crowd.

Several old men with solemn faces walked from behind. They wore the most solemn robes with gold trim on a white background, held gold sickles, and wore gold skulls set with precious stones on their heads.

While seeing their outfits, some of the older druids covered their mouths with tears in their eyes.

It was the most solemn garment of the great druids, and it was worn only during solemn ceremonies. It is usually necessary to store it with great care. Not to mention that in wartime, even ordinary ceremonies are not allowed to be worn casually.

When they put on such clothes at this time, the meaning is very clear.

They can't choose to live or die, but they can at least choose what they wear when they die in battle.

"Don't let them look down on you!"

An elder holds his golden scythe. With anger to trembling, the old voice roared: "There is dignity to die!" Let future generations be impressed! ”

"But will we have any descendants?"

Someone muttered in despair.

Suddenly, silence fell back into silence.

"We ...... There's one last option. ”

A grand druid spoke softly in a hoarse voice. The eyes of everyone around gathered together.

His ashes-like eyes stood out in the dark woodland.

He muttered and repeated, "Yes, the last way...... We already have no choice. ”

"Aha!"

I saw that no new magic had been launched in the woodland for a long time. The gruff man laughed and took another sip of his own wine.

"Praise the Mentor! They gave up resistance! ”

He shouted. Almost dancing and roaring: "Break their bones apart!" Knock out their eyes! Cut their throats - tell me what you have to say to them! ”

"Rest in peace! Rest in peace! Rest in peace! ”

Behind him, everyone prayed aloud at the same time.

Under the effect of the baptismal chant, the silver cross in their hands suddenly turned into an unpretentious silver-gray cross sword. Then silver-gray flames burned brightly above.

"Praise be to death!"

The second time, the man roared. The roar of a dragon shook the leaves, and the earth seemed to tremble.

"Praise to Death—"

The people followed his cries, shouting in even higher voices.

The man's name was Tradar. Before being converted by Bishop Kakarit, he was an Overseer with countless bloodstains on his hands, and a criminal who was imprisoned for murder.

When he was inspired, he was moved by the sheer death hidden behind that silvery life, and wept bitterly and vowed to give everything for his teacher.

Thus, he became a martyr who could burn his life in exchange for power. As a person who didn't care about his life or death at all, he surpassed his former limit in only half a week, and advanced to the silver rank as a martyr.

A person who has no meaning to live is terrible, and a person who believes in death, worships death, and even yearns for death from the heart is even more terrifying.

Just looking at him in the eye is enough to make the faint-hearted person so frightened that he can't move.

At this point, Tradar grinned and roared in a hoarse and bloodshot voice, "Praise the Mentor—"

"- Praise the Mentor!!"

The crows' minds went blank at the overseer's shouts, and they screamed, clenching their swords.

The buttons that kept sanity and fanaticism, cowardice and rage reversed by the Overseers, so intense that boiling blood poured into their veins, and uncontrollable killing intent and battle intent poured out.

"Drink, ah, ah, ah-"

He roared like a beast, clenched the bottle, and led the charge with his sword. Then the crows charged towards the woods, crawling slowly on the ground

The layers of aura exploded at the man's feet like lotus flowers.

The pale frenzy in his eyes burned violently with his own life.

However, at this moment, Tradar suddenly felt an inexplicable crisis.

Without warning, the trees in front of him suddenly exploded, and huge orange-red fireballs fell from the sky and hit the place where the druids were hiding, and large swaths of trees turned to ashes and fluttered in the wind.

The violent shock wave sent Tradar flying straight away, and it was only stopped when it hit a tree that had been stained silvery-white by the flame.

He coughed violently twice, only to feel a Venus in front of him, and his left hand, which had landed first, was unnaturally bent.

"My mentor...... What happened? ”

In Tradar's suddenly constricted pupils, a man with flames and dark red ashes floating from his body was slowly walking towards him.

The clothes on their bodies have not yet been completely burned out. The corners of some druid's robes can be faintly seen.

"Ha ......"

In the face of the increasingly scorching air, he was numb from the impact, and Tradar, who couldn't stand up, showed a mocking smile.

He only knows one thing.

Whatever this flaming monster is, it's definitely not a druid.

Today, at this very moment, the end of the druids has come. (To be continued.) )