It would be a scene that Cornell would remember for the rest of his life, and Ivar was like a monster in that nightmare, crawling out of the darkness little by little, dragging the blood, shattering the limitations between dimensions, and descending on Corneel's eyes in person.

He had never imagined that this guy in a wheelchair was so terrifying, Ivar had been hiding himself, and years of accumulation were for today.

Heroic death.

Die standing like a Viking warrior.

Pain and death could no longer threaten him, because that was what he wanted.

There was nothing to stop him at the moment, not even the guards with secret blood were no match for him, and Cornell shouldn't have pinned his hopes on them in the first place.

After all, the choir guards are implanted with a stable secret blood, which is not as powerful as the witcher, but at least stable enough that even the faintest mortal can easily control it.

What you take, you have to give.

Therefore, such a mediocre secret blood can only bring a little more power than ordinary people, and its power lies in the ability to create countless warriors that surpass ordinary people.

Such creatures are no match for Ivar in the first place, they have secret blood, but they don't have the heart to control it, the heart of a lion, the heart of not afraid of death.

"You madman, do you know what you're doing, how many people are going to die from it!"

When Cornell said this, he himself thought it was ridiculous, he was also one of the promoters of the war, but when it came, unlike the crazy Corrie, he only had horror and fear.

The so-called honor and merit are nothing more than words to decorate war, distorting the cruel and bloody truth into something acceptable.

He was disgusted and disgusted by his naïve thoughts.

But it also proves that Cornell is an ordinary man, not a monster like Curry, Ivar, or Lawrence, who are monsters, propelled by a will of steel, and will do whatever it takes to achieve that noble goal.

"It's naïve to say that, Corneel Garrel, how can you say such a thing, if you're going to be a king?"

A calm voice sounded from under the dark face, and Ivar was not laughing at Corneer, but just stating the facts flatly.

"Damn...... How can there be people like you in the world?"

Cornell retreated in panic, his only sanity grasping the handle of his gun, not firing indiscriminately, the remaining bullets were his only hope, and once he was empty, he did not think that he could defeat Ivar.

The creature in front of him was not an ordinary person at all, with a mad lion's heart in his broken body, and he had Rodbrock's blood in his body, and the wrath of the ancestors was now leaning over him, leading him to the sacred Valhalla.

The hot turbidity was swallowed up, and Ivar moved slowly, dragging his blood-stained knees as if he were crawling, but the ridiculous movement brought an uncontrollable sense of oppression, as if a steel barrier was moving forward little by little, and it would run over everything that stood in its way.

"You madmen, it's so hateful, why!"

Cornell did not understand, he simply did not understand the beliefs of the Vikings.

"Why! People like you, madmen who have killed countless people, shouldn't you fall into the hell of divine punishment when you die? Why should people like you be greeted by the wonderful Valhalla?"

The fear he had never had, this powerless despair, even tears welled up from his eyes, mixed with blood.

Although he was isolated from his faith since he was a child, as a Gallic Nalo, he still knew a lot about the faith Corneer.

Good people will ascend to heaven, sinners will go to hell.

He always heard those pastors talk about this kind of thing, but in fact it is not like this at all, the world is real, cruel, far from as beautiful as depicted in the doctrine, but at least such words can still soothe people's hearts.

But these Vikings had a completely different faith, they saw killing as good, and death in battle as honor.

In the past, Cornell only smiled at these things, but now in the face of Ivar, he really felt the deformity and madness of this faith.

"Why is the murderer ushering in a good thing!"

Cornell screamed in disunderstanding.

Like Ivar, his hands were covered in blood, and sometimes Cornell thought he would go to hell when he died, and he would also suffer restlessly insomnia at night.

But why did Ivar, who was also covered in blood, think that he could usher in beauty?

Why?

"What do you think...... Is Valhalla really good?"

The voice sounded, and Ivar was so close to Cornell that he might be able to touch Cornell's feet with his hands stretched out, but he stopped, as if resting, his hands scratching wildly, smearing blood on the ground.

"I will meet my ancestors in Valhalla, and tell them about my deeds and share in the glory. ”

Ivar gripped the steel again and propped himself up, his broken knee struggling to exert his strength, the blood-smeared ground slippery, and he fell before he could stand up.

"The god Odin will bring me the most delicious food and drink the liquor with me. ”

Ivar's voice was muffled, and he fell, but couldn't get back up.

Listening to his dreamy voice, it was only then that Cornell reacted in hindsight.

The monster in front of him fell in a pool of blood like a wild dog, his body was full of wounds left by the fight with the guards, every one of them penetrated deep into the flesh, and even the bulging broken bones could be seen, and the limbs were twisted at an inhuman angle, and all the actions from the beginning were controlled by tenacious will.

Ivar is not a monster, he is a human, an ordinary person.

At this moment, he was already exhausted, the hot blood was getting cold little by little, his beating heart was gradually tired, his eyelids were heavy, almost completely closed, longing for a peaceful sleep.

He's going to die.

But he can't die yet, Ivar has done something wrong, he has to pay the price, he is willing to be a sacrifice of this war, and he is willing to pay for that short time of beauty.

One yard to one yard, he thought very clearly.

Cornell scrambled to his feet, his chest heaving violently, and raised his gun to point at Ivar, and could see that his body was still heaving slightly, and he was not dead.

"Do you think that's wonderful?"

Ivar asked again, but this time Cornell didn't answer him, pulling the trigger.

In the roar of gunfire, the burst of fire ignited the darkness again, and for a brief moment, Cornell saw a somewhat sad face.

He was then pounced, steel piercing through his wrists.

The whole person fell in blood, his senses were incomparably sharpened for some reason, Cornell could clearly hear the sound of blood gushing out of his body, his heart beating in panic, death caressed his cheek little by little, and would take him to the afterlife.

There was no screaming anymore, and under the great fear, Cornell even had some difficulty thinking.

Ivar's battle was not over, he fell in a pool of blood not choosing to die, but gathering strength and opportunity, his broken body stepped on Cornell's body, and staggered to his feet, so tall and like mountains.

"After the death, the Heroic Spirits will fight in the main hall, and then resurrect the next day to fight again...... Fight ...... endlessly"

Ivar's voice was calm.

"Do you think it's wonderful? Cornell Garrel. ”

Ivar slowly pulled the steel out of his wrist and held it high in the air, asking him questions.

The sound struck Cornell like a hammer in his heart.

Is this really wonderful?

Fight endlessly, never sleep.

To wake up is to die, and to die is to fight and die again after waking up.

This is a cycle from which there can never be liberation, just like the history of mankind.

War, peace, until everyone gathers strength again and throws themselves into war.

Cornell couldn't figure it out, he couldn't answer the question, but in a trance he seemed to see Valhalla, where countless warriors were fighting together, their bodies covered in scars, gulping in the cold air and spraying hot blood.

One by one, they fell, waking up the next day when the sun rose, grabbing their weapons and throwing themselves into battle again.

There is no end, there is no liberation.

This is the real hell.

Cornell's heart froze.

It occurred to him that it was a curse, a curse of humanity.

Isn't the whole world a vast Valhalla when a nameless god is cursing humanity? Born to fight, to die, to be born into the world, and to be thrown into the hatred of their fathers.

The light of the candle flame fell on the steel held high, reflecting Cornell's blurred face, and the mirrored self seemed to be whispering something, announcing his own death.

Now Cornell calmed down, he looked at his face in the shadows without emotion, Cornell thought that Ivar must be sad and desperate at the moment.

Ivar couldn't change anything, all he could do was hope for a better future with his death, the last thing he could do for the Vikings.

Cornell closed his eyes and calmly welcomed the arrival of death.

Cooled blood trickled down Cornell's face and landed on the ground, strangely the expected death that did not arrive.

He opened his eyes and saw a figure that looked like a sculpture.

Ivar stood with his body twisted and his face hidden in the shadows, and time seemed to freeze in him, firmly fixing his furious will in this moment.

No more breath.

He's dead.

For a moment, countless thoughts crashed into Corneer's mind, and there was no fear or joy, nothing left.

As if he had lost all emotion, he pushed away Ivar's stiff body and crawled out of the pool of blood with a blank face.

"The ...... of Never-Ending Reincarnation"

He muttered under his breath, tearing off the fabric and wrapping the wound around his wrist.

It's over, and that's how this crazy deathmatch ends.

Cornell slowly backed away, his gaze fixed on Ivar's corpse, thinking that Ivar must have been taken to Valhalla by the Valkyries.

So, is it a paradise for the Vikings, or is it hell?

Cornell couldn't figure it out, but at least in the end, Ivar, as a warrior, died standing up.

"Farewell, Ivar Rodbrok. ”

Cornell finally said this, escaping from the deep darkness.

The dark and silent corridor was mixed with the aftermath of beasts and steel, as if someone was fighting and fighting somewhere, and outside the window there was a flickering candle flame with a song, and a blurred spot of light hit Cornell's body.

None of this had anything to do with him, and Cornell stared at the nothingness ahead.

He didn't quite know how to describe this moment, Ivar's last form was firmly engraved in his mind, and no matter how much he dispersed it, he couldn't break free.

Cornell began to think about something else.

Now all the anger and hatred has nothing to do with him, he is thinking about something extremely important.

Some people say that growth is slow, it takes countless years, it takes a long baptism for a boy to transform into a man, but others say that growth is a matter of moments, and in a moment that is not too bad, you suddenly think through everything.

At the moment of Ivar's death, Cornell thought everything through.