Berserker Olaf clenched his axe and slashed through the body of the Sea Kui Worm, and once again came out. Pen & Fun & Pavilion www.biquge.info he is like a mad carpenter at the moment, happily swinging an axe to slash left and right, completely reckless. Although the limbs of the monster were as tangible as mist, they were also as flesh and blood as flesh when he was greeted by the blade of his ice-blown axe.

A few tentacles were raised in the air, and then they snapped down and pounced. Although Olaf is strong, his speed is not inferior, and the warrior with weak hands and feet can't survive in Freljord, so he rolls on the spot ~ and splits out with a backhand, and a tentacle is cut off by Zigen and falls to the ground, and then dissipates without a trace.

Olaf's body was covered in blood, like a bright red shroud. The dancing tentacles kept pumping at him. In the midst of the chaos, he saw the head of the sea elbow.

The eyes of the sea kui beetle danced with angry spiritual fire, and time seemed to stand still for a moment, and some kind of connection between them was awakened, and the monster's soul recognized him!

Olaf laughed excitedly, and grinned proudly with his white teeth: "You saw the person who killed you, well~ It's perfect!" It is death that binds us, and if you kill me, we can fight forever in another world! Ah~kill"

With a loud roar, Olaf fearlessly charged at the undead spirit of the Sea Querel, and in the face of such a formidable enemy, the eternal desire to fight for eternity injected strength into Olaf's sore muscles, and he ran to the monster's gaping mouth, ignoring the sharp pain of the Sea Kui's tentacles thrown at him, which was a hundred times stronger than the wind on the shores of Lockfa.

Leaping high and raising the axe above his head, Olaf saw a glorious death before his eyes.

Olaf leaped~ a tentacle volley wrapped around his thigh, and the tentacle shook and flicked, drawing a dizzying arc~ and threw it into the air.

"Come on!" Olaf thundered, and the axe was sharpened in the sky, saluting the fate of him and his enemies: "Till death rest!" ”

In the pickpocket square, a ghost stretched out its claws~ a mouth full of cold fangs, rushing out of the billowing undead, Miss Doom A bullet hit it in front of the door, the ghost turned into a puff of smoke and dust, was blown away by the wind, and another shot passed, and another undead also retreated without a trace.

Sarah smiled in fear at the endless wraith, and then sprang behind a bollard to change her bullets. The stone stake had been eroded by wind and rain, and the statue of the Lord of the River was carved on it, and the urge came from nowhere, and Sarah leaned over and stroked her lips, reaching out to imprint a kiss on its grinning face.

If you believe it, if you don't believe it, you don't have it, so should you believe in God or bullets? Or is it her own ability?

The pistol snapped, the smile on her face faded for a moment, and her mother's admonition came to the deepest part of her memory.

"Sarah, if you let someone else dispense gunpowder, your gun will be like this." Muttering to herself, Sarah slipped a pistol back into her holster, and at the moment the black-clad agitation drew a bright silver saber, the trophy she had stolen from a captain who was heading north to Shurima. Exquisite workmanship ~ can be called a model of sword-making technology!

Turn over and stand up~ The pistol fires quickly, and at the same time swings the sword and slashes at the spirit in the fog. The gunfire is devastating, and the sword light is as strong as electricity. Do these undead feel physical pain? It seemed unlikely, but Sarah did hit something, and she didn't have time to think too much about it, except to feel that whatever divine it was, it would be knocked back to its original form under her sword.

A howling storm of the undead engulfed the Pickpockets Square, spreading their claws and chasing the fleeing crowd. Some had their blood frozen into popsicles, others watched their hearts ripped out of their chests and seven people died, their souls stripped from their bodies and turned into one of the undead. But her valiant men did not flinch, and fought to the death with muskets and swords, shouting either the bearded lady, or their lover, or simply some pagan god in some distant land.

"Just believe it!" Miss Doom thought in her heart, and her eyes were even more determined to rush towards the surging undead again, and shouted loudly to the figure on the side: "Stand up, it's not over yet!" ”

Raven was half-kneeling on one leg, his face was like gold paper, and his breath was as fast as if he had been working on the docks all day. A few wisps of mist stuck to him like spider silk, and the smoldering queen grass around his neck glowed violently peach.

"You don't need to tell me!" Hearing the familiar voice, Raven gritted his teeth and stood up, wielding a scimitar, and said in a deep voice, "I've seen more soul-eclipsing nights than you've ever taken care of dead rat tails!" ”

Before Miss Doom could ask him what that meant, she saw Raven turn around and shoot her in the back. An undead spirit that appeared to be a mixture of a wolf and a bat screamed and vanished. She immediately pulled out her gun and killed an undead behind Raven who had already revealed her claws, which was regarded as returning the favor to the adjutant.

"Get down, everybody!" Sarah shouted, unscrewed two fragmentation bombs from her belt, and threw one high into the fog.

"Boom~" The explosion was deafening, and wood chips and rubble flew everywhere with fire and smoke. Crystalline shards of glass splashed down like knives. All that was left of the square was the spicy smoke, but there were no undead in it.

Raven shook his dizzy head, his fingers digging into his ears, and spat out a mouthful of dust and blood from his mouth, and asked deeply, "What is this bomb made of?" ”

"Black powder, mixed with resin and rue. I made it. ”

"Do those things work for the undead?"

"My mother believed it worked."

"Awesome! I feel like we've won ......," Raven was about to continue.

"Don't say it." Before Raven could speak, Sarah interrupted him with a solemn voice, staring deadly ahead.

The mist slowly coalesced again. First a bunch of tendrils, then the silhouette of a monster. Patchwork legs, large mouths with fangs, hooked and chelicated forelimbs...... These undead, they thought they had been completely settled.

The clouds reunite, the yin spirit returns, as the saying goes, shit luck, is it shit or good luck?

"It turns out that dead people are really hard to kill." Miss Doom held back her fear, not wanting others to see that she was too naïve to think that she could fight the undead head-on with some gadgets and blind faith. She had intended to prove to the people in Bilgewater that they didn't need Planck at all. The fate of man should be in her own hands, but now it seems that she killed herself and pushed the city into purgatory.

"Woo~~, woo~~!" A muffled trumpet sound swept across the square. Then there was another sound.

Thunder roared, as the storm drew closer. In a few moments, the thunder grew louder and denser, as if a giant was smashing wildly on the anvil with a hammer, and the ground trembled.

Panting, Raven looked in the direction of Sarah's gaze and instantly took a few steps back in horror: "Oh my God, what is this?" ”

"I don't know~" Sarah shook her head in response, her eyes did not move the slightest, and as soon as her words fell, the silhouette of a knight appeared in the black mist, and his shadow was reflected in the midnight sky, he was riding on the back of a warhorse with strange proportions, and the shape of the helmet was like the head of a demon.

Sarah whispered, "It's a Knight of Fear." ”

"No~~, it's not!" Raven shook his head violently, his face was bloodless as the knight's figure got closer and closer, staring at the knight's body connected to the horse, or the appearance of being one, his mouth trembled and a desperate voice came out: "This is the shadow of war......"

Ripples of stiff fear spread through the crowd, his unstoppable killing, his unquenchable rage, the nightmare that no one survived, this was the shadow of war

He had been called Hecarim, but no one had this his real name or a storyteller's invention, and only a fool would dare to tell dark legends about him by the fire, and only after drinking enough rum to sink a battleship.

The shadow of war had fully emerged from the mist, and Miss Doom realized that he was not just riding on a horse, and that the cold fear had wrapped around her heart like a shroud, that perhaps Hecarim had once been a knight, but now the rider and his mount had become one, a terrifying beast born only for destruction.