The Colosseum is undoubtedly the herald of heresy in the City of Chaos, and as the private property of the human aristocracy, he enjoys the reputation of the demon of the Gospel of Sin that rivals that of the eight-winged archangel, and at the same time envelops the large number of evildoers in the City of Chaos, which in any way does not make the other exiles think that they can lie down and sleep in peace.

But Mostima didn't seem to be restrained by the painless swearing, and the lavish corpse mound that sits on the top floor even emanates the mellow aroma and affectionate praise of rum.

"The sound of the Emerald chess pieces falling in the 'Eternal Web' is a hundred times more beautiful than the fighting and roaring of the rude people in the gladiatorial arena, what do you think? ”

It has to be said that in this day and age, gold coins can still be exchanged for some good things, and the aristocratic dress on this fat man is an excellent example, no matter how exaggerated the ass of its owner moves and tosses his body, this robe inlaid with red sapphires and green agate always smiles at the slightest torture.

A little sweat oozed from the fat man's greasy face, and it seemed that his victory was not easy to come by.

Mustima in the City of Chaos is not as peaceful as the night, a battle of wisdom and glory is being staged here, symbolizing the blood of the undead and the human race on a chessboard called the 'Eternal Web', and the incomparably precious legendary materials occupied by the eight extreme corners of the chess paper have been looted, although both of them have chosen to destroy as the destination 'Destroyer', but this does not affect the fat and thin to smile and continue to bargain.

The rum mellow infects the highest floors of Mostima, a place where corpses are piled up, and as the name suggests, a ghost place where corpses are buried

The friendly collision of two goblts, the splash of red wine, which seems to be melancholy, spills on the table with ancient Hebrew inscriptions, like crystal dew on the green leaves in the morning.

The creature wrapped in the gray robe was obviously not human, and its thin bony fingers gently tapped on the dining table, making bursts of rhythmic tones, but sometimes some white maggots broke the harmony, and they fell to the ground along the bony fingers, wriggling and crawling without hesitation.

The gray-robed man's voice was inaudible, and his empty eyes stared at the eternal net chessboard, the blue flames of which were enough to reveal the identity of his undead.

"Duke Eyre, you are worthy of the status of a nobleman of the Tustin Kingdom, and as for the praise of 'Patriarch of Strategic Geography, Pope on the Eternal Web Chessboard' is even more deserved, that terrifying blood-sucking fly, Cardinal Alder's eyes are still so vicious. ”

The chess paper on the dining table decorated with ancient Hebrew inscriptions has been turned upside down, eighteen chess pieces, six remaining, five aquamarines, and a lonely white agate standing in some of the most remote corners.

The pot-bellied Duke El smiled, and he seemed pleased to hear these sincere compliments from the lips of a powerful undead, for for to his kind, he only needed a little trickery to get any exaggerated words, even some desperate people's physical dominance, and by virtue of his strength, to be recognized by strangers, a pleasure he had never been able to enjoy.

A woman stepped out from behind the Duke of Eyre's massive body, the moonlight shining on her long, wavy blue hair, like a star falling into the blue sea, the only regret was that the woman's blue hair was so long that it obscured half of her face, although it made her look more seductive.

She gently filled the goblet for the Duke of El, and the scent of red rum filled again, and when she was done, this abrupt but beautiful figure slowly disappeared into the darkness.

The Duke of El raised his glass, and the bright moonlight and the red rum intertwined in a mysterious way.

"Undead, don't underestimate the wisdom of any race, especially humans, I've seen too many self-proclaimed and wise creatures planted in our hands. ”

"Yes. ”

The undead murmured a little wrath.

"I don't deny that some humans are terrifying, but more often than not, some stupid and greedy guys, and even some of the weak, will tremble and kneel in the face of the lowest skeleton undead. ”

Duke Eyre's small eyes became more and more difficult to find, he narrowed his eyes, and said slowly, "Then have you thought about why they knelt?"

The undead were speechless for a moment, and the moonlight shone on the chessboard of the Eternal Web, and it was a defeat that did not need to be argued.

"Just as all fools think that nobility is corrupt, but only I know very well that my body is filled with piety, and that there are times when I can only live if I kneel. ”

"Kneeling can only get you the final humiliation before you die. ”

This humiliation carries a glimmer of hope called survival, whether you die today or tomorrow, don't forget to struggle. ”

"The human ** is endless, ugly, and can't get everything, but fantasizes about everything. ”

"This is true of every civilized race, except for the dwarves who indulge with their heads in barrels and the orcs who only roar and sacrifice all day long. ”

The gray-robed undead stopped talking, and Duke El's sumptuous evening gown glistened in the moonlight, but at this moment he also stopped arguing inexplicably.

The main color of the Mostima gladiatorial arena should be the fighting of the fighters and the arrogance of the nobles who spend a lot of money, and it is rare to see such a strange scene staged here, and the topics discussed are like a feast on the philosophical table, which comes abruptly but has an endless aftertaste.

"Duke El, one of the power-wielders of the Kingdom of Tustin, I prefer to call you a shrewd merchant rather than a puppet nobleman who only wanders around lavish dinners, but tonight my impression of you has changed, a merchant will not argue for too long on issues of no profit, you are not shrewd, but wise. ”

The soul fire in the eyes of the undead burned brightly, and the dark blue fire was even better than the magic lamps created by the goblin civilization.

"Thank you for the gift of the undead, your praise will keep me alive on a certain path for longer, so now"

Al's fat face suddenly became a little sluggish, and the pride of the previous moment was gone, replaced by shock, and seemed to be a little fanatical, like a believer seeing the god he worshipped.

Mostima is the supreme building of the City of Chaos, the Gothic style is vividly embodied, the spikes that stand under the night are eager to pierce a hole in the sky, and the corpse heap is the highest point of Mostima, it is the best time and place, standing here, you can see every bloody killing in the City of Chaos, but tonight it seems that the wailing and desperate cries are lost, Duke El once attributed this credit to the patronage scroll of the Haas civilization era given by Cardinal Snooker, but now he has changed his opinion。

Tonight must be the day of the miracles of the God of Light.

The top of the firmament, the endless darkness, and the chaos of the capital are even more so, but almost instantly, an ancient door of space opened its deep mouth, and the glorious holy light shone above the black castle, where stood a strange statue, and at the foot of the statue was a suspended little girl, her eyes were hollow, and her dark pupils showed a trace of pain.

"The power of light, such an abundance of divine power!Al, what the hell is going on. ”

The gray-robed undead roared, the divine breath frightened him, and he lay asleep in the corpse heap for hundreds of years, and some things are still unforgettable, such as how he once embarked on the road of no return to become an undead, which is already an eternal nightmare.

In contrast, the fanatical Duke El regained his composure, gently tearing off the red bow from the collar of his gown, revealing a beautiful coat of arms.

"yes, I don't know what happened. ”

His massive body slowly approached the gray-robed man, and an aura of holy light enveloped El.

"The Crest of the Cross of Thorns, the clergy of the Elder Cathedral, El you turned out to be the High Priest!"

The gray-robed undead's voice was a little frightened, and his thin body retreated step by step, and wisps of black magical aura quietly condensed on his dry bone fingertips.

Though he had lost his elegant bow, the Duke of El's evening gown suddenly had a hint of sacredness, and a coat of arms hung from his chest, a cross of Thorn of Alder, a symbol of the sanction of light.