"Butcher?"

He couldn't help but want to laugh: "He used to have an unhappy relationship with me, are you sure he won't kill me first?"

Ghost Hand laughed too.

"Mr. Holmes, the killer, there are two kinds of killers.

One is a murderer like me, who takes people's lives for their own purposes or to achieve a certain goal.

But there is another kind of person who is the real 'killer'. ”

"For a real killer, the most important thing is not 'killing' or 'purpose', but collecting money to do the work, and the employer comes first," he said.

It's work ethic.

If you have money, you can buy your life. If you don't have money, you won't move a finger even if your father dies in front of you. The butcher is such a person.

We've been in contact with him and booked all of his time for the next month. For the sake of the Order's bills of exchange, you will surely have a good time working together. ”

"I hope so. ”――

The next day, in the afternoon.

Downtown, in a warehouse near an abandoned dock, dozens of burly Asgardians converge here.

Under the command of a middle-aged man, the servants brought in a steady stream of wooden boxes from the carriage. Heavy wooden crates, half a man high, were scattered on the ground, a full seventeen boxes.

Every time a box was moved, the strong men waiting in the warehouse breathed heavily, and their eyes almost lit up.

The man with the monocle confirmed the manifest again, nodded, and waved the servants to leave.

Soon, as the door closed, only the dim sunlight shining down from the shattered dome was left in the hold.

Next to the wooden box, the excited dwarf dog 'Werner' came up and shook his hand: "Thank you, Mr. Hall. ”

Hall smiled reservedly. Without a trace, he withdrew his palm and handed over a crowbar: "The gifts of the council are here, Mr. Werner may wish to check them out." ”

"No need. ”

Werner waved his hand, rejected the crowbar, and only clenched his fist and slammed it into the corner of the crate. The calloused fists are like hammers. Just smash a corner of it.

With both hands on his hands, Werner couldn't wait to tear open the wooden box, and the sunlight fell on the wooden box, and the layers of heavy blades that slept between the straw and the moisture-proof cloth reflected the cold light.

Werner grinned, drew a heavy sword from it, looked at the prismatic checkered crystalline lines of the blade in the sunlight, and stretched out his hand to his side.

His subordinates understood, pulled out the dagger at their waist, and slashed down towards the blade!

After a scream. It was a metallic tremor.

With a thud, the half-broken dagger fell to the ground, and his subordinates stared dumbfounded at the trembling heavy sword in Werner's hand.

There was no crack on the blade.

Hall looked at their stunned expressions and laughed, "The superior forging method, the secret alloy recipe of the Walmayans, was forged by the Royal Third Smelter.

They are internally codenamed 'Dragon Scale III' and appear at the time of their appearance. The armament officer should take one handle from each box, and if the armor is not broken. The whole box has to be rebuilt.

A box of twenty handles, here are two hundred, enough for you well-trained ex-soldiers to kill the shaman's group of chickens and dogs to the point of not leaving a single piece of armor!"

With a crowbar in hand, he pried open the remaining six chests and, with the burning eyes of the Asgardians, lifted the linen cloth that had been padded on them:

"There are also twelve crossbows of the standard. Each crossbow is given fifty armor-piercing three-edged arrows, enough for you to have a grand feast. ”

Werner's eyes were red as he looked at the bolts. But after swallowing and spitting, he became greedy again:

"The number of crossbow bolts is too small. ”

"The standard crossbow and the longbow are not the same, under high-intensity operation. The standard number of uses for a string is exactly fifty times.

As a former soldier, Mr. Werner, you must know it, right? After a regular war, you may not be able to shoot fifty times, so where will it not be enough?"

"Hey, hey. ”

Werner smiled and didn't speak.

He swung the heavy sword in his hand, and the heavy sword, which was a head taller than him, was swung like straw in his hand, easily leaving a deep crack in the wall.

Werner finally let out a roar of rage, raised his sword high, and stabbed it down.

With a crisp thud, the heavy sword stabbed into the stone slab beneath his feet, piercing the foundation below and ending on the hilt.

Weapons are more seductive to a soldier than any woman. Especially this kind of blade of excellent quality, cutting iron like clay, is even more satisfying than the evil ghost in the color to get a peerless beauty.

Werner ignored his men, squinted at Hall, and sighed meaningfully: "It's all good things, you really feel free to give them to me?"

"Aren't weapons like cutlery to the Asgardians?"

Hall replied, "There is only one such grand dinner in so many years." The council has prepared plates and knives and forks for you, and it is up to you how much you can eat. ”

As soon as the words fell, the group of Asgardians who were stroking the blades burst out laughing.

"Of course. ”

The scar on Werner's face was red as if it were oozing blood, full of excitement and greed: "- Asgardians, eternal hunger, never satisfied!"

Seeing their excitement, Hall's eyes flashed with disdain, but with a warm smile on his face, he led Werner to the last box.

"Those are all things for your men, gifts for you, here. ”

The chest was unlike the others, it was made of iron, with no seams throughout, and if it weren't for a keyhole, Werner would almost have thought it was a large, solid ingot.

And as the iron box opened, his breathing stopped.

In the iron box, there was a pool of liquid as clear as clear water, but it exuded a trace of pungent smell. But compared to the behemoth soaked in the liquid, the slightest pungent gas became dispensable.

In the midst of the clear oily liquid, a huddled 'Iron Giant' slumbered.

It was a body of armor that covered the whole body, but it was more special and hideous than the ordinary armor.

The sharp steel armor is more than two meters high, and it is as smooth as new under the care of the liquid. As if it had just left the factory, you can vaguely see the sword slash marks on the battlefield still on it.

Right behind it, where there should have been a pair of huge wings, there were only two huge slot interfaces.

But even without wings, that 'giant' is still terrifying.

It's soaked in clear oil, but it feels like it's just sleeping. Even heavy breathing would wake it up from its frenzied dreams.

Then, go on a killing spree!

"It's ......"

Werner stretched out his trembling palm and stroked its metal shell:

"- Archangel armor?"

Behind Werner, Hall laughed.

"That's right. ”

Ever since the alchemists of the Royal Academy copied the first generation of Archangel Armor Gabriel based on the Sacred Armor left behind by the Knights of the Round Table a hundred years ago, it has become a formidable piece of war on the battlefield as a mass-produced weapon of war.

When the Royal Knights, armed with Archangel armor, take to the battlefield, it always brings death and nightmares.

Thirty years ago. During the Hundred Years' War between Anglo and the Kingdom of Burgundy over the ruins, six Archangel armor were tasked with defending the 'Voodoo Crypt', and their enemy was the elite Royal Plantagenet Legion of Burgundy.

Six archangels held out for four days and nights, and the Plantagenet organized sixteen attacks, leaving sixteen layers of corpses on the ground.

It wasn't until the Praetorian Legion finally arrived from the Burgundian capital of the City of Light that they captured the ruins.

At that time, Anglo's support corps had already reached a hundred miles away, if there was one more Archangel armor. Then the outcome of the war would have been completely different.

"How's that?" Mr. Werner, are you happy with this gift?"

Hall smiled and asked, "Although it's only an old model from the first generation." And there is no 'wing system' to assist, but the council has put a lot of thought into order to get rid of its reasonable 'loss'. ”

Werner stared ecstatically at the archangel armor, his eyes constantly changing.

It wasn't until finally he calmed down and closed the iron box. He took a deep breath and exhaled the hot breath in his chest:

"Please tell the council that I am very pleased with this gift. ”

He bowed his head, and in the darkness where the sun could not find it, he smiled evilly:

"I'll use it to pluck off the shaman's head. ”

Hall just laughed. Put on his top hat, bow his head to say goodbye, and turn to leave-

Today is destined to be a busy day for Avalon.

Figures rushed through the streets, and carriages ran up and down the road, carrying orders and lists.

Those who receive orders are to kill, and those who are on the list are to be killed.

In the warehouses of the docklands, in the secret rooms of Manna City, in the gorgeous and gloomy villas......

There were sturdy minions carrying heavy wooden crates and sending them to the last stop before the battlefield, distributing the 'men's toys' to men who had nothing but their lives.

The whole city was filled with the smell of danger, the smell that permeated the stench of the sewers, drifting with the wind and carrying the smell of blood.

The night is getting darker, and it's getting deeper-

"Did Bai Xi sleep?"

"You've been shopping with her all day today, and you've been yawning since you came back, and now you think she's gone to bed early, isn't she? ”

"Probably a good dream, right?"

Ye Qingxuan sighed softly, said goodbye to Charles, put on his deer hunting hat, and pushed the door open.

"Hey, leaves!"

Charles stopped him behind his back.

"Huh?" the boy turned back.

He shook the crystal ball in his hand, and said, "There is a mysterious force that tells me that it is not appropriate to go out tonight."

Or another day?"

"Senior brother, when did you learn witch divination?"

"Self-taught. Charles looked serious.

"Senior brother, your research has never been reliable, you are immersed in the technology of bombing schools every day, and you have no self-taught things, and the credibility is doubtful. ”

Looking at Xia Er's complicated expression, Ye Qingxuan couldn't help but smile and waved his hand: "Don't worry, I'll be right back as soon as I'm done." If...... If it goes well, I probably won't have to go out at night in the future. ”

Charles stared at the boy's back and threw away the crystal ball in his hand. Lie down on the couch and gaze out the window at the sky.

The sky was pitch black, without stars, and the lead-black dome was like an iron plate.

But in Charles's eyes, the entire cloud seemed to be scorching in the flames, glowing with a slight red. The red light of the fire lingered throughout the city, and when it fell to the ground, it seemed to burn, and the whole world was painted the color of fire.

"Is there really something wrong with the world?"

He closed his eyes, no longer listening to the faint roar and wailing of the wind, and muttered softly, "...... Even Avalon has become this ghost. ”

"Fuck. ”――

Late at night in Avalon

The sky was obscured by black clouds, the moonlight and stars were covered in that layer of leaden black, and the sound of the tide could be heard from afar.

The sprawling city built on the hill was immersed in darkness, and sharp black shadows seemed to pierce the clouds. It stretches into heaven.

Like a sharp blade, a sharp blade that pierces the sky.

At the very bottom of the city, under the towering cliffs, there are no more buildings here, only the silent undulation of the tide and the roar of the water.

Beneath the open black iron gates, the turbid current swept into the sea, splashing foul-smelling water. The water splashed and landed on the heavy rusty gates.

The huge iron gate also trembled slightly. There was a lingering sound.

'Thames' Gate.

This is the bottom of the city, the estuary of the River Thames.

The intricate sewers beneath Avalon converge here, and the entire city hides here, turning into rivers and rushing into the sea with the rolling waters.

The pungent smell and the stench permeated the air.

Right next to the river, on an eroded rock. There sat an old man.

It's like a homeless homeless man, bored and spending a long night.

Beside him, the ghost stepped into the mud with his hands and tilted his head to light his pipe, taking a deep breath. Smoke curled up.

There was a silent silence, only the faint humming of a song in the shaman's throat, hoarse and distant, like a distant traveler reminiscing about his homeland.

So, the singing voice is lonely and hoarse.

In the middle of the long night, a midnight bell suddenly sounded from the top of the mountain.

The roaring bell faintly spread, and right beside them, the iron gates roared and trembled. Behind the iron gates, countless gears, winches, and chains turned.

The first channel is open, the second channel is open, and the third channel is open...... When the time for the discharge came, the Thames rivers became more and more turbulent.

The faint sound of the tide came from the darkness behind the iron gates, like a copper kettle boiling, bubbles of water bubbling up, and the stench surging in the wind.

Rumble!

In the towering city, in the darkness of the lower city, a roar suddenly burst out. A glimmer of fire lit up.

In the darkness, that little bit of fire was born out of nothing, burning recklessly, like a little candle flame in this dark world.

The candle flame illuminated the sound of fighting, and there was a faint roar and roar. The dilapidated building wailed in the flames, collapsed, and was burned.

This is just the beginning.

Immediately after that, there is the second, third, and fourth points...... There was a constant glow of fire in the sprawling lower town, and it was a raging mob that set it on fire.

There was a hoarse roar in the sea breeze and the hideous sound of swords clashing.

The silence of the city was broken by the hustle and bustle, and in the light of candles lit by fire, the turmoil and noise spread with incredible speed.

Countless buildings were set on fire, from low shacks to dilapidated buildings to ornate manna courtyards.

The thugs, accompanied by swords, took to the streets, smashing enemy chassis, looting money, and then burning everything they passed.

The war, which had been suppressed behind the scenes, finally reached its climax, breaking through the darkness and cover, and unfolding everywhere in the lower city.

The light of the burning illuminates the dark city, illuminating the city of blades in flames.

It's like turning it into a flaming sword.

Behind the towering city walls, the nearby Midtown and the high Upper City seemed to still be asleep, only to open one eye coldly from their sleep, indifferently looking down on the fight of this group of beggars.

The firelight illuminates the shaman's white hair.

"How many years has it been since there has been such a big movement?"

He raised his eyes and whispered, "The council's counterattack is terrifying, like it is about to burn the whole city to the ground." ”

"They're going to die, and the net is broken. ”

Ghost Hand frowned slightly: "Otherwise, if this continues, their power in Xiacheng will be completely purged by us."

This time, if you don't die, they're probably not going to give up. ”

"Then come and kill me, my head is here. ”

The shaman laughed, pulled the iron flask from his bosom, unscrewed the lid, and drank the cold spirit. The liquor flowed into his throat like a burning blade, as if it had ignited his soul as well.

"Ghost Hands, where are my knights?"

"It's in those flames. ”

"Are they fighting?"

"Yes. ”

"Are they dying?"

"Yes. ”

"They died because of me. ”

The shaman drank the spirit from the pot and threw it into the turbidity: "Let me watch them die." ”

He reached out and took the heavy wooden drum from the hand of the ghost hand, stroking the skin of the drum surface.

On the old wooden drum, there were scorched black marks and cracks of chopping. You can vaguely see the vague patterns left on it, but those patterns are not clear, as if they have aged with the owner.

Like a wizard coming from a dark world, the shaman sat cross-legged on the reef, holding a wooden drum in his arms, looking up at the burning fire, and the wooden drum was beaten.

The sound of the drums was distant and indistinct, like a faint heartbeat from the underworld.

The old man seemed to be immersed in drunkenness, beating the wooden drum, immersed in the chaotic beat, and singing hoarsely:

"In the sound of turmoil, in the loud voice, in the breath that blows everything!--sink--faint-go to the carefree world!"

Rumble!

Turbidity currents are surging!

After a sudden earthquake at Thames Gate, the turbid currents swept along the riverbed and into the sea. The darkness hidden beneath the Avalon was also swept up, spewing out the floodgates in the stench and causing ripples in the tide.

The gate finally opened, and the turbid currents in the nineteen passages converged in one place, tilting arbitrarily.

The water carried the scorched smell of burning flames and the remnants of ash. In that dim and pungent stream, something faintly emerged.

The wind swept through the black clouds, tearing a crack, and the cold moonlight fell from the sky, illuminating the faces in the water, and the layers of white bones.

Dozens, hundreds, or thousands?!

A steady stream of wreckage flowed out of the darkness into the ocean.

This is clearly a ...... A river of bones!

In the roaring turbidity current, the broken corpses tumbled, revealing white bones, rotting internal organs, and dead eyes.

The mass of corpses gathered from all directions, were thrown from every sewer inlet, tumbled in the turbid current, brewed in Avalon's belly, and finally rushed out of the Thames Gate with the current!

The River Thames is the most diligent bone picker, collecting the broken corpses of the battle as if it were a treasure. Admiring their desperate eyes, he sucked up the last trace of heat on the corpses, and abandoned them without any nostalgia.

Just beside the rushing riverbank, the shaman looked down on the pair of dim pupils and sang a funeral song hoarsely.

"We will die, and we will never be separated. Forever, forever, endlessly, no more awakening, no more fear......"

The shattered voice melted into the darkness, diffusing in the stench and residual despair, guiding the resentful souls into the dark world.

The bones floated into the sea. (To be continued......)