The White Tower is burning.

The madness, which had spread only to a few, had suddenly spread, and most had fallen ill in the dead of all, and by the time the consul was awakened by his second son, things had become almost irreparable.

Whether it was the outer city where servants and commoners lived, or the inner city where rich merchants and nobles gathered, and even in the official residences of the consuls, there were people who were mad, and who did not show any warning, but suddenly became angry, at dinner, when they fell asleep, and when they walked...... Their eyes turned blood-red, their mouths drooped with spit, they picked up everything around them that could be used to attack others and swung it or directly used their fists and bodies to attack the first living thing they could see, they were more terrible than the beasts that had lost their minds and acted completely according to their primitive **, no matter what, the latter's attacks always had a purpose, and they were not.

Their only hobby is torture and killing - sons kill their fathers, grandmothers strangle grandchildren, close friends stab each other in the abdomen, sweet lovers suddenly bite the throat of the other...... Some women and young children had been raped by their blood relatives or other trusted people before they were killed. After a moment of panic when a servant slew his mad master by mistake, the humble man fled with the order of his master, taking his master's purse and ornaments, and setting fire to his master's house to cover up his crimes.

The consul summoned the captain of his garrison, and it turned out to be his second deputy, his first two superiors had gone mad, even the second deputy was wounded, from the corner of his eye to his lip, there was a deep wound, deep enough to see white teeth and salmon-colored gums, he had treated himself, but it was ineffective, and blood flowed from his chin to his neck.

"Captain?" the archon frowned.

"No, they had already stabbed each other dead by the time I arrived—" said the second deputy, speaking as briefly as possible, for the wound was sore and leaking, "It's my wife." A hint of pain crossed his eyes: "And my daughter." ”

The archon pursed his lips, the lines between his eyebrows became deep and severe, he had seen a mad person, knew what it was like, more likely, they were all dead: "Garrison ......"

"Fifty-two," said the second deputy, "can act, and still have reason." ”

"You are now the captain of my garrison, let them take all their weapons," said the archon to the young man, who had been able to remain calm and strong in the face of the great changes, "first clear the inner city, come one by one, collect their guards and servants from the merchants who have gained safety, give them weapons, and then clear the outer city." ”

The new captain of the garrison bowed to the consul, and Demont stopped him and handed him two potions, "one for refreshment, one for healing." He said, "You should heal your injuries before you do things, so that you can be effective." ”

The captain of the garrison glanced at the archon, who shook his head up and down imperceptibly, he took the potion, and bowed gratefully to Demon, there was no doubt how important a potion of healing and refreshing was in such a chaotic and dangerous night.

"What about your brother?" asked the archon as he walked up the inner wall.

"He hurried to the sanctuary in Rosada. ”

"He's done the right thing, we need the help of Priest Rosada," the Archon said approvingly, glancing at his second son, and his tone suddenly became stern and harsh, "So what do you want to do with me now? Do you want me to go and personally inform Master Antonio and ask him to ask for help from Grey Ridge?"

Demont bowed slightly, unchanged, "But you have no guards," he said, "and they're all crazy." ”

"I thought you were past the age when you could not distinguish the importance of affairs," said the archon coldly, "and your brother will soon be back." ”

"Then," said Demont, "as you wish." ”

Asmodeos let out a vicious and piercing laugh from the shadow cast by his master.

"He doesn't like you. It said sharply.

"This is nothing new, it has been going on for almost twenty-four years," said Demont indifferently, pressing his chest, glad that it no longer felt the same pain as it had done every time before: "Every day, just face me—he hates me, I know," he whispered, "I may not be his son, my brother is, my brother is, but I am not, I am not his son, and he is not my father." ”

He paused and looked up at the tall figure in the faint light of the torches, the most father-like of the three sons.

"I won't grieve for you anymore, father. Demon said.

Asmodeos was abandoned by Demund on the pretext that the mage he was going to meet with was a seasoned and experienced spellcaster, and he would sense that something was wrong - one of your pets could be a viper, a toad, a beetle, but if it was a little devil - usually only the gray and red robes would have a little devil as a pet, so according to Demon, it was better not to show up in front of Antonio.

The little devil thought it was revenge, it didn't think the old man mage would be able to crack its invisibility, it would record it and hope to return it to its temporary owner one day, but that didn't stop it from finding something interesting to keep itself entertained.

It didn't take long to find a family destroyed by Demon's poison - A small house with three rooms, the owner of a leatherman, in the midst of madness caused by holy water containing evil drugs, he wielded a round knife to cut the leather and at once separated his apprentice, that is, his son, from the chin and above, his sister was cut by him, and his wife, after he panicked and hid his little daughter in the bedroom storage box, he cut into a rag that could not even make a belt, fortunately the mad man also became dull, he did not check the box, he staggered out, and was beaten to death by another man outside。

In order to ensure the safety of her little daughter, the mother even locked the outside of the box, which was dark and stuffy, with only a little air and light peeking out of the gap left by the handle on the top of the box. She curled up, unaware of everything that was going on outside, she just wanted to go to the bathroom, but underneath her body were her parents' clothes, the kind of delicate, shiny and brightly colored silk clothes that she would only wear when she went to the sanctuary in Rosada, or when she went to a wedding, and she touched them, hoping to find a piece of cloth, only to feel a fluffy mass.

She cried out, but most of the voice was locked in the box, which her father had wrapped in a thick layer of cotton sheepskin to keep the inside of the box from scratching the precious clothes.

Asmodeos waited patiently until she finally stopped screaming, and then slowly climbed up to her knees, and the little girl's hands were clasped tightly, and she thought it was a mouse, and then it appeared, uh, it was still a mouse, but it was prettier and fatter than the mice she had seen before...... The light falling from the crack shrouded it, it was the size of her fist, and its fur was black, like the skin of a mink she had seen by the robe of one of her father's patrons.

It doesn't look as vicious as other rats, and it talks like a human instead of squeaking.

"You must have been naughty to get locked up. Demont's pet said.

"No, I don't," the little girl argued, "I'm my mother's good baby." ”

"Then it's your mother's fault. Asmodeus said maliciously, "But it doesn't matter, she can't do that again, whether you are good or not, because she's dead." ”

The little girl was frightened, and she stared at the hairballs on her knees without blinking, her eyes full of confusion.

"Do you know what it means to be dead?" said Asmodeos, "just don't move, stop talking, no longer play with you, can't give you food and water, won't hug you—your father is dead, your father's sister is dead, and your brother is dead," said it, "it stinks, it gets black, it grows worms." The little girl sobbed slightly, no, it wasn't enough, Asmodeos thought. He likes spices that are a little stronger.

"You'll die too, but not so soon," the little devil waved his tail hidden in his body, which looked like a thicker and longer hair, hollow and containing venom, and Asmodeos would determine the amount of venom to infuse as he pleased, more for death and less for paralysis: "I want to eat something fresh today," it said, pulling its tail from the girl's skin, slowly crawling from the knee to the abdomen, from the arm to the shoulder, and finally sitting down at the nose " I'll save your eyes for the last to eat so you can see how I eat your ears, nose, lips, and fingers. ”

It was happy to see that those eyes were finally filled with fear.

Ilda raised her sword to block an ogre's axe, then let it slide down the blade and push the axe aside, as the short sword she held in her other hand arced through the gap in the ogre's defenses and stabbed him in the ribs - the ogre let out a furious roar and turned to face the opponent he didn't care much about, three feet taller than Ilda, twice as heavy as Ilda, covered in bulging warts- Without hesitation, he tightened his arms and grabbed the dagger that Ilda had stabbed into his body.

The female elf gave up her dagger, and the second enemy rushed at this moment, his body clearly flowing with the filthy blood of the orcs, and his stature was not impressive, but his thighs were extraordinarily thick, the nails of his hands and feet were like crooked claws, his lips were unusually wide split, his tongue was slender and barbed, and he was surrounded by a dense mass of small teeth—a heavy steel flail.

And Ilda has already danced the "Whirling Dance", one of the most common martial arts used by elves, and the key is how to properly wield your two weapons and turn your body as fast as possible when you face more enemies than you - Kerribon and Ilda are the best at this dance.

She spun, jumped, twisted her waist, shrugged and drooped her shoulders, her steps lighter and elusive than the wind in the mountains, and though she only had a long sword, the clashing of weapons and the crisp clash of metal continued, and both ogres and orcs began to be confused, and they saw only one enemy, but she seemed to have six arms and twelve legs.

If no third enemy joins, victory will be Irda's.

It was a cunning half-ogre, as thin as the half-orc (compared to his accomplices), and he crept over and raised his crossbow.

But just as he was about to let go of his fingers, a dazzling light shone into his eyes, and he screamed and dropped his crossbow, and dizzily reflexively rushed into the burning maple forest.

Ilda struck the orc, a precise and ferocious slash that split through the leather armor, the crack from his shoulder to his chest, and with its inertia it turned around for a full half a week, and confronted the ogre again, and in the previous battle, the elf's five-foot-long, slightly curved sword had cut off his unwielded hand, leaving several wounds in his abdomen- She kicked a twig still with dark red embers, causing it to burn her foe's face, and as the ogre raised her only arm to block, she swung her sword and slashed it off.

He lunged towards Ilda, and the female elf only took a large step to the right, her sword creating a fatal wound in the side of the ogre's neck.

It was only after this brief engagement that Ilda had time to find the man who had helped her, and she smiled as she saw Cremar, the black spellcaster floating above the fissure maple tree, waving his arms to cast spells and a gust of wind, and a small dot of light under his feet.

Ilda removes the longbow from her back.

A silver light grazed the edge of the lich's vision, and he turned his head to see an orc nailed to the branch of a fissure maple tree by an elven arrow, still holding a crossbow in his hand.

The author has something to say -- on May 31st, it was recommended by [Classified Channel News Recommendation]! On the same day, I would like to express my gratitude! Thank you for your consistent support! I will continue to work hard!