The Dust of History Chapter 6 Road Prologue Dream Madness (3)

Dream Crazy (3)

"Rodhart, captain of the Holy Knights of the Ironfast, begging to see Inham. Lord Marquis Ernie and all the mages of the Valley of Deya......"

The sound of rolling and waving came through the Shadow Swirl Mountains that had been silent for I don't know how many years, like a lonely high wave crest gliding over the smooth surface of a mirror-like lake. The voice is loud and full of energy, full of vitality and power.

But no response rang out from anywhere in the mountains. The entire Shadow Spiral Mountains were like a huge obsidian carved dead thing, as quiet as death. Only the place where the cry originated was still a little sound, and it was the entrance to a valley in the Shadow Spiral Mountains.

This is the border between the Shadow Vortex Mountains and the Wyvern Desert. I don't know if it's because of the direction of the wind or other reasons, the golden yellow sand grains gradually decrease in front of these gray-black mountains, and the two different colors pull out a junction line. But the same thing is that these are all the colors of death, the desert is a golden dry and scorching death, and in the gray-black mountains and forests it is a death of a more similar color to death.

Now there is some dull and energetic crashing, cracking. Dozens of undead monsters emerging from crevices in the rocks and underground were besieging the man who had uttered that shout.

One skeleton's broken iron sword slashed across his leather armor with a sound like tearing thick paper, and another skeleton's mace struck him on the forehead with a cracking sound.

It wasn't his forehead that was cracked, it was the handle of the mace that was broken. The skeletons don't know how many years they've slept in this valley, and their weapons are in tatters.

But even so, the rusted hammer, which was almost to slag, made a cut in his forehead. Blood and debris poured down. But Lot didn't even blink an eyelid at Ter.

He couldn't blink, because he had to watch everything in front of him carefully. He didn't care about the impact of the weapons of the two skeleton soldiers on his body, and slammed the two bone racks open, and stepped on the arm of a zombie and jumped into the air. Just as he jumped. A cloud of green mist swept almost past the soles of his feet.

The green mist gathered and did not disperse, like a floating ball of green cotton flying out of the mouth of the valley and into the desert. A camel stuck in the desert was unfortunately swept away by the flying green mist. The camel only let out a half-wail before falling, the foam coming out of its mouth and nose was already greenish-black, and its eyes were melted. The necromancy used in this direct attack is so lethal that even an elephant can't survive once.

"In the name of the Lord, take away the impure. In mid-air, a flash of white magic erupted from Rodhardt's hands, and four or five ghosts fled in a hurry. The two closest ones were torn to pieces directly in the light, and let out a strange roar that vanished. Although this white magic is only half-toned, it is undoubtedly boiling water poured on ice for these undead ethereal creatures.

Rodhart didn't care about these imaginary monsters. His gaze was locked on the front. Behind a dozen skeletons and zombies, a very thin zombie was wielding a staff, from which the green cloud had just emanated. Not only that, but all the surrounding ghosts, zombies, skeletons, etc. were also commanded by him.

This emaciated zombie also has a tattered robe on his body, although it is weathered and tattered to the point that it is shapeless, but it can still be seen that it is a robe worn by a magician, this is actually a zombie who retains some consciousness and magic power, or a corpse witch.

The corpse witch's empty eyes looked at the opponent who flew by, and as soon as he raised his hand, four or five skeletons with good mobility immediately flew up. At the same time, the zombies around him were converging on him, and the staff in his hand began to condense another green cloud. Although these corpse witches no longer have the ability to think independently, their thinking about battle is still intact, and all the magic before their death has been transformed into a single necromantic mist, and the combat ability is by no means comparable to that of skeleton zombies.

The skeletons had successfully intercepted their opponent in mid-air, and although they couldn't do any substantial damage, they did their best to grab the opponent's body with their skeletal hands and feet, and tear him off violently. The zombies on the ground pounced on it as well. Their task is not to damage the attack, but to drag.

Die, win. The corpse witch's empty eye sockets were still hollow, and the half-skeletal and half-zombie face was still expressionless, but the thought came to his little remaining thought. The green mist on the staff quickly thickened and grew larger, but just before the cloud on the staff was about to leave. His withered head and upper body suddenly burst open and scattered.

The long sword that exuded a faint white magic rolled on the ground not far behind the Corpse Witch, and half of the Corpse Witch's body fell to the ground. The remaining zombies and skeletons continued to swarm towards Rodhart, even if the ones in front of them continued to crumble and destroy in his fists and kicks and white magic. It's just that without a leader like the Corpse Witch, it's only a matter of time before these skeletons are completely dismantled.

After completely eliminating the skeletons and zombies, Rodhart was already out of breath. He had at least five or six scars on his face, a skeleton's hand bone stuck in his shoulder, and his mana and physical strength had been almost exhausted.

"Rodhardt, ask to see Lord Marquis Inhamerni and the mages of the Valley of Desya......"

Once again, he shouted loudly into the depths of the gray mountains, still loud but more tired and desolate than before. The sound echoed in the mountains for a few moments before it faded away, still not provoking any repercussions.

Silently listening to his voice swallowed up by the gray mountains around him, Rodhart turned and walked out of the valley. He hesitated as he passed by the carcass of the camel, which had become a pile of rotting flesh, and sighed when he looked at the package of water and grain that the camel was carrying. Just now, the suspicion of the death of the corpse witch was skimmed, and it was impossible to eat it anymore.

The other camel still had some water and food on it, but Rodhart couldn't get it into the valley anyway. Even as Rodhart pulled in front, as soon as it stepped into the gray rocky terrain, the camel began to struggle desperately backwards, as if by animal instinct, it sensed that the area did not belong to anything alive.

After two efforts, Rodhart finally sighed, and with a swing of his sword, the camel's head fell into the sand with a bloody foam.

After drinking several gulps of camel blood, Rodhart walked into the mouth of the valley with a small amount of water and food, as well as a cut hump. The gray, huge, but lifeless peaks on either side looked down silently like two giant undead monsters, silently looking down on the humans who had stepped into their shadows like ants.

Three days later.

"Captain of the Holy Knights of the Ironfast Order, Rodhart, I ask to see Lord the Marquis of Impham Ernny and the ...... of the Vale of Deya."

The sound that had been heard countless times resounded once again in the Shadow Swirling Mountains. But this time it was no longer a shout, but more like a dying beast hissing.

Standing on one of the peaks of the Shadow Spiral Mountains, the endless black-gray mountains in front of him were endless, and he could no longer tell where he came from and where he should go. He didn't know if it was his last shout.

Behind him, around, and halfway up the mountainside at the foot of the mountain, hundreds of skeletons and zombies were approaching here, and in mid-air, more than a dozen white mist-like ghosts flew towards him, all the empty eye sockets focused on him, as if rushing to a feast.

His own roar still echoed through the mountains, and Rodhart turned and pounced on the army of the undead approaching him.

The sword in his right hand flew with the heads of two zombies, the scimitar in his left hand caused the three skeletons to fall apart together, and he also smashed his body into two skeletons and slammed his head into the face of a zombie. But at the same time, he also received at least five or six attacks, a zombie's sword was inserted into his lower abdomen, and the water mana attached to the sword formed two criss-crossing ice spikes in his body, he could feel his intestines being pierced by at least three cold stinging sensations, his face was hot, and the hand of a skeleton next to him almost directly dug out half of his face.

With the continuous progress in the mountains, many of the magic weapons in the hands of these skeleton zombies are still high-grade magic weapons, although they have passed for many years, they are still sharp and effective, and the magic leather armor that runs through his body is now full of holes.

Rodhart twisted and split the zombie in half, smashing the remaining two skeletons. As he turned around, he could hear the two icicles in the middle of his intestines snapping and piercing in two more places. The knife in his left hand was thrown out, piercing a ghost that rushed through the air, and the fire mana attached to the knife itself tore the ghost to pieces.

At the moment when the ghost dissipated, Rodhart seemed to see the shape of the ghost, which seemed to be a magician wearing a master's robe. This ghost may have been a teacher in his lifetime. And the fire magic knife that pierced the ghost was checked from the hand of a zombie, and the knife had the emblem of the Paladins that he was familiar with, but he didn't know how many years ago it was.

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