Serra was slashed in two by the whirling energy axe, and the skeletons, who had no one to command, were immediately disorganized, and were quickly shattered by the demon army.

Angel had planned to leave Sierra alone and flee alone, but now that Serra was seriously injured, her desire to escape was even more determined. But just as she was about to cast the teleportation magic attached to the Ring of Legends, Serra actually hugged her feet and wailed bitterly.

You must know that teleportation magic cannot be performed by a person, if she wants to escape, she can only escape alone, and now that Serra is holding her feet desperately, she can't use teleportation magic at all, she can only watch one skeleton after another fall under the attack of demons, and there is nothing she can do.

"You...... Let me go! Let go of ......" Angel lowered her head and looked at Serra lying at her feet in disgust, and her originally delicate cheeks became hideous with anger.

"Angel, please, save me...... I don't want to die, I can't die yet...... Please......" Serra pleaded as she looked up at Angel's angry face with both hands on her rare magical boots.

"I'll let you go......," Angel glared angrily, raising her other foot that wasn't being held by Serra, aiming at Serra's face, which had turned pale from blood loss, and stepped down heavily.

"Ahh ……”

The desolate screams echoed over the battlefield, drowning out the sounds of demons and skeletons fighting.

Angel's golden-glowing soles stomped on Serra's forehead, their thin, mud-clad heels digging deep into her eyes. As the magic boots lifted, a puddle of scarlet blood spurted out, and the eyeballs pierced by the heels still hung on the heels.

Sudden. Such a dramatic change caused the fiercely attacking demons to stop their attacking weapons one after another, and those skeletons were severely damaged by Serra, and the miserable white skeletons were slammed, and all of them fell to the ground.

"No...... No...... Angel, don't ...... me like that" Serra was blind in one eye, but the only one that remained was filled with deep resentment and inaction

Sierra looked up at Angel's familiar and unfamiliar face. His whole body trembled, and he seemed weak to speak, he didn't understand? The kind, gentle Angel in the past. Why would Lu do such a cruel thing to him, didn't she know that Lu Dao loved her?

"Don't let go yet......," Angel snorted angrily, once again raising her blood-stained boots and falling down heavily.

"Click!"

A piercing sound of bone cracking suddenly sounded. The thin heel pierced deep into the crook of Serra's arm! Subsequently. Angel ignored Serra's screams like killing pigs, and twisted her seemingly small, but cruel little feet.

With her arm broken, Serra could no longer cling to her cruel foot before Angel kicked her head in the head and slid off the ground.

In Serra's eyes of near-despair and resentment, Angel's figure disappeared into place, appearing directly above the battlefield. Then it vanished again, appearing on a distant hill.

When Angel's figure disappeared from the top of the mountain. With a snap, the legendary ring on her right ring finger shattered, and the demons lost all traces of her.

"Giggle...... Mankind! Really interesting creatures, isn't it? Dylan ......" Kazra laughed maniacally as he walked over to Dylan's side and asked mockingly.

"Know the people and know the face...... I don't know the heart! Dylan looked in the direction Angel had left and said in a deep voice.

………………

Kaltim, at this time, was in the middle of a storm, and the bitterly cold wind made people hide in their homes and not want to go out, while some travelers gathered in the tavern to listen to the bard and tell about their experiences.

"The entrance to the tomb is as dark as the throat of a long-tailed lizard...... a fat man lowered his voice, leaned forward, as if revealing a terrible secret, and whispered, "Our torches can only shine a few paces in front of us, and farther away, the light is completely swallowed up by darkness, and only the smell of death comes from the grave...... It's clear that what's buried in it doesn't want to be disturbed. ”

The fat man looked at the faces gathered around him through the smoke and flickering firelight, and looked at each eye staring at him, making sure that everyone's attention was focused on him, and that they were not drawn to the tinkling of the piano on the other side of the tavern.

The fat man's tuxedo and trousers seemed to indicate that he was a man of status in Kartim, but the garment was quite worn out and had patches in more than one place.

Then there was another man in the crowd gathered around the fire, a woman in a sackcloth gown, who threw a coin into a pigskin hat that lay upside down on the table, and sat down on a stool, and the smell of yeast and sour milk rushed through the nostrils of the people.

"How's that little emperor? You said that you would tell us why there would be riots in the city, and why people would be evacuated. One guest asked.

"There's nothing mysterious about it...... said another man sitting in the lobby, "some say it was a hell king who sent down a green fire." Actually, it was the mages of Sakaram who had allied themselves with the Order, and they wanted a new leader. Let me say that they are behind all this! Hakan the Great II was lucky that he was still alive. ”

"Let him speak,......" the woman in the sack garb pointed to the bard, and she grinned, revealing a black hole that should have been filled by front teeth, "There is enough trouble in this city. We now want to hear one or two pieces of good news. ”

The bartender at the tavern looked a lot like a savage, his brows furrowed, and he began to wipe down the bar with a dirty rag again, all the while shaking his head and muttering something under his breath.

"That's not a story, I assure you." The fat man said quickly, "Every word I say is true. ”

The fire must have roasted his back hot, and a drop of sweat ran down his hairline that receded to the top of his head. Rolling down to the corner of his forehead, he nodded to the woman, his gray-bearded cheeks twitching. It's like making a smile. Then, his expression returned to the way he should have been when he told a horror story.

"Where the hell did I go back then...... Yes! That's right, it was the tomb of a powerful mage of Hradim. Although he has long been forgotten by the world, you must know that he has been corrupted by the most filthy evil, and has made a pact with the devil. This mage died a long time ago, but my master has confirmed it after a lot of research. His resting place is protected by deadly spells that are still effective to this day. We all suspect that what awaits us underground is not something that belongs to this world. Then. No man, woman, or the old man who led us to that cursed land, no one wants to be ahead of them. But we have to walk in. Because the fate of the sanctuary is all about this. ”

"At that moment, a howl that did not belong to a human came from below, as if some creature had been tied to a torture rack and torn apart piece by piece! That's simply death itself crying out...... My heart was completely clutched by fear, I had no strength in my body, and even my bones were weak. But Hazel snatched the torch from the mage's hand and took a step forward. 'Go ahead,' he said then, 'maybe I'm just a useless traveling scribe, let me bring the first rays of light to this dark demon's hole!' ’”

When the fat man recounts the scene of walking into the grave. His voice grew louder and louder, and the surrounding audience whispered.

The sound of chair legs rubbing against the ground rang out from time to time. Even muffling the fat man's words, more and more drinkers turned their heads to him, and there were a few more coins in the pigskin hats.

Many of the listeners shook their heads and laughed at the fat man for only talking gibberish, while some smiled uneasily. Kaltim is a chaotic city. Legends of black magic and demons have always inspired the imagination of the townspeople.

About ten feet away, at a table in the corner, sat a blonde man with mead in his hand. If you look closely, you will find that he tilts his head slightly, and he is also listening to the fat man's story.

He wore a simple nomadic earth-colored robe, with a black cloth belt tied around his waist and a short sword with a sheath stuck in it. The man was thin and thin, with an angular face hidden in the shadows, and there seemed to be nothing special about him.

He didn't look like a native of Kaltim, and if you wanted to find out where he came from, none of the people in the tavern could tell. Ever since he walked into the Wanderer's Tavern, none of the other drinkers had paid any attention to him, as if everyone could sense that he didn't want to deal with anyone else.

The fat man continued to tell his story, his short arms waving incessantly, as if he would roll over from behind his chair at any moment.

In his story, his master, Hazel, encounters a giant monster made of stone and sand that does not look like a human being. While the adventurers who relied on spells and swords were defeated, Hazr used his wits to defeat these monsters.

"Jotunkule had been beheaded by Hradim many centuries ago to prevent him from coming back from the dead." "We found his terrible body in a ritual hall, and that mage began to use spells without heeding my master's warnings!" Hazel had read the Book of Demons, which was written by Jotun Kuller himself......"

"Hey, get out of here!" The bartender suddenly shouted.

Even as the fat bard gushed his story, he had been wiping the scarred bar with a dirty rag, full of the vicissitudes of time, and now his face was red with rage.

"I've heard enough! Go out on the street and talk nonsense! Don't bother my business here! ”

The few drinkers left in the tavern, who had not yet gathered around the fire, were stunned for a moment, and the bard blinked vigorously and said, "I'll ask for the next round of wine, since I've caused you trouble......

The bartender slammed the rag on the bar, tore off his stained apron, and walked out from behind the bar. He pulled a piece of wood from the pyre by the wall, waved it like a club, and strode towards the bard.

"You're not welcome here, I said, let me out now." He swung his stick twice at the group of storytellers by the fire, and continued, "If you still want to hear this kind of garbage story. Just come with him and find a corner outside to drink the cold air! Or just stay in this warm place and spend money to fill your stomachs. ”

After speaking. The bartender threw the stick into the fire, and the burst sparks caused a lot of complaints in the crowd. A cloud of black smoke rose from the fire and spread to the audience sitting around, causing many to cough and retreat.

The rest of the tavern laughed, and the bard still muttered reluctantly, with a heavy drink. Staggered to his feet. He grabbed the pigskin hat, but the bartender pulled his arm and nearly spilled the coins on the floor. This made him curse in a low voice.

"Go find your master!" The bartender said as he led him to the door, and said viciously, "Maybe he can cast a spell on your tongue so that it doesn't get knotted." ”

"I beg you to think again." When the bartender slammed open the tavern door. When a cold wind blew into the lobby of the tavern. The fat bard embarks on a final effort, explaining, "I still have a lot of stories to tell!" Be sure to hear these stories! Hazel had once met Tyrell himself, the Archangel of Justice......"

"I don't care if he knows where that little emperor pulled out the last." The bartender said, "But it certainly won't be here...... You too, don't want to keep farting here. ”

The bartender pushed the fat man out of the way, and the tavern door was slammed shut to block out the cold outside. The fire began to beat violently under the strong wind, sprinkling swaying black shadows on people's faces, and no one moved.

And then. The bartender motioned for the luthier to continue playing, and the out-of-tune sound once again drifted into the ears of the drinkers. People turned their gaze back to their glasses. Others were still laughing, mingled with the rattling of the fire.

No one noticed, the blonde man in the corner stood up and quietly walked to the gate, ghostly disappearing into the night with the howl of the wind.

Outside the tavern, the wanderer's old wooden sign kept tapping on the pillar that hung it.

Tiny chains shook in the cold wind, and the sand and gravel on the streets rose with the wind and turned into annoying patches of dust. Also mixed with the strong wind was the smell of clumps of hay and manure from nearby stables.

Many torches were blown out along the streets, and the moon was obscured by dark clouds, making the streets even darker.

Moore paused for a moment, lifted the hood of his tunic and tightened the tether around his chin, squinting his eyes as he searched for the bard in the flying sand. Tyrell, the archangel with the glow of the Feather, heard the bard say this.

Regarding the details of Jotunkule's tomb, the fat man was very wrong in many places, he was just a clown, and he probably had never actually seen a demon, but just before he was kicked out of the tavern, he had inadvertently mentioned the archangel.

This made Moore wonder if the bard's story was true.

The owner of an alchemy shop was diligently nailing thick wooden planks to the shutters so that the sash would not be blown away by the wind, and the sound of the nails echoing through the empty streets like the sound of a tomahawk striking a shield.

On top of that, the whole city seemed to be abandoned, and people all shrank under their own roofs to escape the storm. Moore finally saw the fat man before he was completely obscured by darkness, his back hunched against the strong wind, and his gait faltered from drunkenness, and Moore immediately quickened his pace and followed the bard closely.

The bard turned a street corner and walked unhurriedly, never looking back.

He had pocketed the coins in his pigskin hat and fastened the old hat to his head. With each step he took, the hat jumped upward, but the farther away he was from the tavern, the more steady his steps became. By the time he reached a dirt street on the outskirts of Kaltim, he had no stumbling steps.

Now, apart from the dilapidated huts lining the streets, all that was left was Moore, who was just a few steps behind him.

The part of Kartim near the trade tent was inhabited mostly by casual workers and prostitutes, including thieves and madmen. The streets here are not lit with torches, so they are very dark, and no matter how much you concentrate, you can only see the faintest shadows.

The seemingly drunk bard didn't belong to this place, and even city guards rarely entered the area after dark.

The houses here are all made of mud, sand and gravel. The rattle of corn stalks rattling in the wind drowned out the sound of Moore's footsteps. In any case, it was impossible for the fat man to perceive his presence. Moore had spent many years learning how to get close to his target without even noticing.

Moore has been wandering in this world for nearly twenty years, searching for a way to restore the balance between good and evil. He felt that he could no longer see the future in front of him, and could only grope in the dark, perhaps the Angel of Justice Tyrell was the only shortcut to save the Sanctuary!

But in this place, Moore must disappear very much, because it is dangerous, and an ordinary person would probably stab him in the back for the boots on his feet.

He's not a hero, at least not anymore after losing his strength. As a matter of fact. No matter what others thought of him, he never saw himself as a hero.

He had followed the bard so far that it was impossible to go back. He must know the end of the story of the bard.

Moore nearly lost the tracking object.

Now, the man was shaking his fat body and walking towards the tallest house in the area, which was the only place in Moore's vision where the light was on.

Extraordinarily thick mud walls. A small window could be seen faintly with a red glow. It was enough for the hut to stand like a lighthouse in the night. Perhaps the bard had only inadvertently walked by because he had seen the light, and he just wanted to find a warm place, away from the bitter cold wind.

Or, perhaps, he lived there, and his clothes must have belonged to the wealthy, and since no one had been killed near the Wanderer's Tavern, the clothes might have been his. He did have money, but now he is down here. This is on the edge of Kaltim, next to the barren Gobi Desert.

Moore watched as the bard walked all the way to the door, fumbling for the trough hemp rope locks that held the door in place. He walked over and patted the bard on the shoulder.

The bard let out a low exclamation, and Moore turned him around, finding that the man's face was uncertain, and only the pale cheeks made him look like a ghost in the shadows. He was about the same height as Moore, but weighed more than 200 pounds, if not more. Still, Moore doesn't feel like he's a threat to himself.

"Your story." Moore said to him, "What is the end? ”

"I beg your pardon." The fat man stammered a little.

He stared at a pair of pig-like eyes, desperately trying to see Moore's face hidden in the shadow of the hood, and said in horror, "I...... I don't have any money......"

The wind ripped a corn stalk on the thatched roof, causing it to tumble and fall to the ground.

"I want to know the story you told the traveler...... What do you know about the archangel Tyrell? Moore didn't reply, instead asking his own question.

"I ...... No! I mean, I really don't know anything! I'm just a poor guy who wants to earn something to eat. The fat man narrowed his eyes, as if to ponder where Mur had come from, and said, "Have you come here to kill poor Abdukhazir?" ”

"Hazel? That travel writer? He's here? ”

Unexpectedly, the fat man seemed to be extremely confused by the question, and he opened his mouth as if to reply, but made no sound, but put a hand into his trouser pocket, took out all the contents there, and threw them on the ground, and the coins rolled in the dirt.

"Oh my God...... No. The fat man shook his head as he spoke, and stepped back until his back was pressed against the door, and then he said in horror, "That's all I have...... Take it all! Or are you a demon who wants to take my life? ”

Moore didn't answer, but stooped down and picked up an amulet from the man's trouser pocket, and lifted the gold chain that hung it high. In the red glow of the window, the amulet and the thin golden chain flickered. The amulet was carved with a scale, a legendary-level amulet, and a chill swept through Moore's body, even causing his heart to pause.

"Where did you get this?"

A groan came from the darkness, and at first Moore thought it was the sound of the wind brushing his ears, but it was undoubtedly coming from the hut behind the fat man.

For a long time afterward, all that remained in the air was the "rustling" of corn leaves being blown by the wind.

And then. It was a high-pitched and mournful scream of a woman.

The bard moved far faster than Moore had imagined, and when he heard the screams, Moore only glanced at the window. When he turned his gaze back. The hut door was open, and the bard was gone.

Moore tucked the badge into his tunic and stepped into the dark hut.

The smell of rotten flesh immediately filled his nostrils, and he lifted his hood and drew a dagger. He gripped the old wooden handle tightly and pointed its blade forward, and the antechamber of the hut seemed unusually empty. Only there was some hay piled up in the corner, and there was a stone stove next to the haystack, but the charcoal in the fire was cold. It's obviously been a long time since it's been ignited.

The Bard is not here, and the red halo also comes from the rooms closer to the inside of the hut. Moore stopped, and in front of him was another hidden door, and he could hear a slight rustling of the door.

"Whatever you can find behind this door. It's not worth the risk. ”

Although I thought about it. Moore still thought the bard had to be found. This amulet, and the woman's scream! This means that he must not take things here lightly.

Moore pushed open the second door, and the shaft made a screeching sound like a pig waiting to be slaughtered. The door was easily pushed open and hit the wall before stopping.

In the room behind the hut, a number of stick-like shadows lined up in a semi-circle, and around them was a slender human being tied to a chair. It was obviously a woman.

A filthy shawl was draped over her shoulders, and a sack was wrapped around her head. The mouth of the bag was tied tightly around her neck. The figures standing were men in black robes, with terrifying curved daggers in their hands, many runes tracing on the worn wooden floor.

It was these runes that shone red, illuminating the scarlet blood on the blade of the dagger, and Moore didn't know these runes, but he knew that the meaning of these runes would only make the blood flow here.

It was clearly not the first time that the room had been used as a venue for violence and crime, and Moore's breathing had stalled in his throat, which had suddenly become extremely dry, and here he could see patches of blood on the walls and floors like black tar.

Cultists, minions of the True God Cult!

He had thought that the True God Cult would only operate in the vicinity of Tristium in Canduras, but he did not expect that this evil force had already entered Kartim.

Moore held a short sword in his hand, motionless, only his heart beating wildly. The sword left to him by his long-deceased father seemed to remind him: don't rush in as recklessly as a wounded bull, unless you want it to be the last battle!

But he's broken that ground rule, a rule he's been faithful to all along.

He wanted to turn around and run away, because now he was just a mortal, and he couldn't be their opponent at all. But if he escaped, this woman was destined to die, she was innocent, and he couldn't let that happen.

The whole room was dead silent the moment he first appeared! Then, in unison, the hooded men turned their faces to him, and the chair beneath the woman made a desperate, shrill "creak" as she struggled.

Moore could almost feel the cultist's cold blades gnawing at his flesh, as if he were the one tied to the chair, and it was the blood of his life oozing from his body, staining the floor red.

A voice came from behind him, and Moore turned sharply to find that the bard had circled behind him at some point, which Moore had completely unexpected. He had always thought that it was impossible for this clumsy fat man to escape his surveillance, and now, the man held his thick arms to his chest and blocked the doorway tightly.

The fat bard smiled, shook his head, and said triumphantly: "Moore of Stobrick! ”

"How do you know my name?"

"You're really sluggish! You think it will be easy to take my hard-earned booty? You think that I will obediently tell you everything, and I don't even need a fight? ”

"I ...... Do we know each other? ”

The fat man laughed again and looked at Moore with disdain: "I'm in this body...... You don't seem to recognize me! ”

With that, he raised his hand and grabbed his face, his nails buttoned into his fat cheeks. Pull the dough off.

As the skin detached from the face, yellow filamentous mucus was pulled out, which then crumbled and scattered like clay in the sun. What was revealed was an ugly face, a gleaming slime on tendons, muscles, and bones, and red eyes that shone as if the hellfire deep beneath their feet was burning in them.

Mephisto's men...... You're Hogg! Moore said in shock.

His great-grandfather had dealt with this demon long ago, and the invasion of Burning Hell had been repulsed, but their servants were still roaming the sanctuary. Longing for the blood of the innocent.

Moore recalls the situation in the tavern, where the seemingly stupid guy simply pretends to be casual about Tyrell and easily leads him out of the tavern. The trap had been arranged, and he walked straight in.

And what about the amulet? Moore's heart was even colder, and that could mean something very terrifying, so terrifying that he didn't dare to think about it?

"I can't think of so many years. His children and grandchildren still know me...... Speaking of which. You really look like him! The demon stepped forward and hissed.

The minstrel still hung over its face like a mask.

"We already have a new master...... "The demon approached Moore with insect-like steps, but stopped again, tilted his head to look at Moor, and said, "You will be surprised if you know who that is, but you will not live long." Do you know what we're going to do? You know the way. What will happen to you when we finally destroy your bones? ”

Moore pointed his dagger at the demon. He also pointed at the cultists, trying to block the attacks on both sides at the same time. The hooded cultists were also pressing on him, and he felt the panic beat his heart down.

When the first cultist lunged at him, Moore barely had time to turn around before he was strangled by his neck, and the cultist's filthy breath rushed to his face, which was filled with the strong stench of rotten flesh.

The weight of the attacker forced Moore to bend down, but he had already plunged the blade of his sword into the enemy's ribs. The cultist fell, and Moore felt a surge of hot blood spill his clothes, and at the same time he was dragged by the enemy and lost his balance, and the two men fell to the ground hard.

The cultist snorted and groaned, his legs twitching violently, and he slammed into the floor.

Before Moore could break free of the dying cultist, the others grabbed his arm and twisted his sword-gripping hand so fiercely that he had to drop it.

The two tallest cultists pinned him against the wall, keeping his feet out of the way. Hogg walked up to him, blood and fat still dripping from his face, and a pair of demonic eyes gleaming in the darkness.

It stretched out a hand, and now those fat fingers were like boiled cracked sausages, and claws protruding from the fingertips like curved steel hooks.

"You're going to pay for it." The monster said in a hoarse voice, and the place where the bard's lips had once been was now nothing but blood and pus.

"Now, the sword that your ancestors left you can't protect you anymore! Because he is dead, the judgment of destruction will come upon the sanctuary! Humanity will suffer as a result, and we will rise from the ashes to become stronger than ever. ”

The runes on the ground pulsated with a strong red light, and the demon grabbed Moore's throat, claws slicing into his skin, suffocating him.

The stars swirled deep in his eyes, and the swirling light grew more and more blinding until they were about to swallow up everything he knew and loved.

Moore didn't know what happened next, but the light in his mind drifted away. When he regained consciousness, he found that the demon had let him go. His feet were also back on the ground.

He struggled to breathe, letting puffs of burning air fill his lungs.

Hogg and the Cult of God were all facing the man who had just been tied to her chair, she had already stood up, her arms free, and the ropes that had held her tightly together were now scattered on the ground.

Her hands were clasped together, and she held a bright purple flame in her palms, but Moore's eyes were fixed on the woman's beautiful face.

"Are you...... Angelina? ”

"Get down." The arcane mage shouted.

She shook her slender wrist and unleashed the three swirling magic missiles. The ball of energy spun and shot at the cultist closest to her, striking him in the chest. Blew the cultist to pieces.

Moore threw himself to the ground and covered his head with his hands. He raised his head in a burst of tinnitus, and only two hooded figures and Hogg were left standing in the room.

The demon roared in rage. Stretching out his claws, he leaped forward, slamming his claws as if to rip the mage's head off.

A bright light burst from around her, enveloping demons and cultists, their movements immediately slow as if they were crawling. She leaps around the monsters trapped in her nets at an astonishing speed. He summoned the Spectre Blade from the palm of his hand, and threw it at the purple blades that were constantly bursting with sparks of energy.

After a few moments, it was all over.

The glare subsides. The fat man, who had been possessed by Hogg, was left with only half of his body left, and he fell to the ground, still bleeding, and the corpses of the cultists surrounded him. As if some kind of horror exhibition.

She stood in the very center of the pile. Naked shoulders, beautiful breasts held up by a leather corset. She had cut her black hair short to shoulder length, but beyond that, she was still the woman Moore had always dreamed of, and twenty years later, there was not a single wrinkle on her face.

Angelina looked at him with the contemptuous eyes that Moore knew so well and always went crazy about.

"It's still the same old thing." "It's just that you're getting weaker," she said leisurely. I waited as patiently as I could. But when a girl is tied up, she will always be impatient. ”

"Actually, you can go a little faster." Moore said.

He stood up cautiously. Picking up his short sword, he wiped the blade clean, then touched the scar on his neck cut by Hogg's claws, and looked at his fingers again, the bleeding had stopped, but the shame had not faded.

"That's so boring, huh?" A small smile crossed Angelina's lips as she walked gracefully to the nearest corpse.

"I need you to attract it, and I must wait until this demon reveals itself so that I can determine the best time to act! Of course, you should have come to save the girl in distress, not to let your flesh suffer...... However, after all, the world is unpredictable! Well, before we are overwhelmed by the old feelings, I believe you still have something that belongs to me. ”

Moore reached into his pocket and pulled out the legendary amulet that belonged to Angelina.

It was one of the very few things that Angelina could cherish, the only thing her father had left her. Angelina had told Moore that the amulet had been removed from his father's neck before his coffin was buried in the ground, and that Moore had never seen Angelina leave it.

"When I saw it, I thought you were ......" he didn't continue, and after all these years, he still didn't know how to express his feelings for her, which was one of the many reasons that separated them.

"It would be an exaggeration to think I'm dead because of that." Angelina put away the badge as she spoke, and continued, "I let this demon take the badge for a purpose! I know I'll live long enough to get it back, but you're ......."

She looked at Moore closely, and Moore felt a certain tenderness in her eyes! That might just be his imagination, though.

"You really look a little weak!"

"It's been a long year, what are you doing here?"

"This is not the place to talk." Angelina glanced at the bloody slaughterhouse again, the power of the runes had been depleted, the darkness was spreading through the room, and she picked up a wizard's staff that had been hidden in the runes in the center of the circle.

"We're out of the woods."

The antechamber of the hut was now darker than the night outside, and Angelina whispered a few words, causing a blue ball of light to light up at the end of her staff, which lit up the darkness.

Moore followed her to the gate, and Angelina opened it, and the sudden cold wind gnawed at Moore's bone marrow like a banshee's howl, mixed with the sand that blew from the street, like nails to Moore's bare skin.

"Wait......" Moore said, "you haven't told me what you're going to do here." ”

Angelina sighed, as if Moore was asking her for a great favor.

"According to the information I received, the meteor that fell at Tristem's Cathedral was a human descending from the sky, and with him came a broken sword! Right now, the True God Cult is working on the idea of fighting that sword, so I'd like to know more about it...... But now it looks like we have to make a trip to New Tristem! ”

"I'll go with you!" (To be continued......)