With that crazy and violent aura rushing out of the thin gray mist, the entire No. 6 White Coat Street seemed to shake slightly, as if it was frightened.

In this building, in the different rooms, the bodies of the sleeping people trembled unconsciously, and fell into a bloody nightmare, and those who were not yet asleep looked left and right in confusion, as if they had returned to the years before the barricades were everywhere, and the guns and guns were sometimes fired.

Diagonally below Franca's apartment, on the bed in a quiet room, the man who had been lying in a quiet room with his eyes closed and seemed to be asleep sat up, raised his head vigilantly and fearfully, and looked at the source of the terrifying aura.

At the same time, the underground of the church of St. Robles, in the office area of the Inquisition in the market district.

Angoulême on night duty. Morality. François slammed to his feet and was about to run towards the place where the magical items were sealed, trying to improve his ability to deal with accidents and disasters in a short period of time.

In the other rooms, Imre, Valentet, and the others also felt the violent aura that seemed to shake the whole of Trier, some trembled, and some turned pale.

This scared them more than the Shadow Tree disaster.

But none of them froze, or rushed out of the room to meet Angoulême, or opened their arms, praised the sun in a hurry, and then galloped to the church of St. Robles above.

Memorial Parish, 11 Quanshui Street.

Gardner rubbing a suit of full-body armor. Martin frowned slightly, and looked at the southeast region in confusion.

He felt something calling him, faintly burning his blood a little hotter.

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Deep underneath Trier, the hungry bear-like Olsen who had always carried a small brown suitcase suddenly turned his ear to listen to the movement not far away.

There was fighting and shouting as if out of nowhere.

The "overseer" of the "Iron Cross" suddenly became fierce and crazy, stretched out his right hand, and pressed it on his neck.

There was a faint invisible line protruding from it, oozing fire-colored blood.

Located in the middle of the island area of the Serenzo River, the church of Sainteve-Viev, the church of the "Eternal Sun", was already dark, and only the bell tower next to it was still lit up, but at this moment, the sleeping church suddenly lit up with a bright light.

Sunlight from the bottom to the top instantly filled the onion-like domes, illuminating each stained glass.

North of Trier, in the heart of the cathedral district, the archbishop's cathedral of the Church of the God of Steam and Machines towers over thick iron-black chimneys.

Boom, the huge steam engine that had been placed inside the church began to operate, and a large amount of pale white mist spewed up through the forest-like chimneys, enveloping the night sky.

Erato district, in a small town very close to the Sacred Heart Monastery.

A large golden retriever and the lady beside him turned sideways and looked into the distance of the metropolis of Trier.

Inside Red Swan Castle.

Count Puiver, who was already lying on the bed, opened his eyes.

He felt the whole castle become extremely oppressive, and the nightmarish roar and screams could be heard from the depths of the earth.

At this moment, the extraordinary people in the market district and the powerful people in the rest of Trier were attracted by the undisguised and unbridled madness.

Hidden in the room diagonally below Franca's apartment, "Loki" had just reacted to the violent and terrifying aura, and before he could recall the "resentful spirit" possessed by Lumian, and cautiously let him escape from the spirit world with him, he saw that the darkness around him instantly became thick, engulfing the crimson moonlight and bringing the ultimate peace to the area.

Uncontrollably, unnoticed, he closed his eyes, fell back into bed, and truly fell asleep.

As soon as Lumien's thoughts returned to normal, he ignited his own anger, pouring all the pent-up emotions into the crimson flames.

"Die!

He let out a low roar, stepped forward with his left foot prominently, quickly twisted his waist and swung his back, and swung his right fist with all his might.

With a dull boom, the flames on Lumian's body gathered on the surface of his fist, naturally compressing into a blazing white color.

The blazing white fireball broke away from Lumian's right fist and slammed into the wall on the side of the apartment, following his preset trajectory.

The sound he had just heard was coming from behind that wall!

Bang!

The wall collapsed and a large hole was opened, revealing a man standing in the hallway.

With brown hair and brown eyes and a thin face, he was the same secret puppet that "Loki" used in the evening.

It was always him who spoke just now!

Before Lumian could realize that he had found the real "Loki", he saw a flood of darkness flood over him.

He had already vented his anger and the resulting flames, and his mood quickly became calm, and he unconsciously closed his eyes and slowly fell to the ground.

His contorted face began to stretch, his body and soul soothed.

He no longer has the precursors of losing control.

Dressed in a black widow-style dress and a veiled soft hat, "Hela" came out of the darkness.

She was undoubtedly the first to arrive closest to this apartment, and was searching for traces of the battles of "Loki", Lumian and others.

Without delay, she let Lumian, Franca, "Loki" and the two puppets disappear in place.

Her figure disappeared, and the thick darkness quickly receded.

Except for the collapsed walls, there was not a trace left at the scene.

Two seconds later, the apartment was illuminated by sunlight.

Underground in Trier, in an uninhabited mine.

The figures of Lumian, Franca, and the others were quickly outlined.

They were still asleep, only the slightly pale "Hela" remained awake and stood on the side.

The vice president of the "Curly Baboon Research Society" has not had as dry and split ends as before, and has become quite supple and dyed the color of the night.

She pulled out a jug full of spirits and gulped a third of it before turning her gaze to Lumian.

Hela's forehead silently "cracked" and spewed out a dark light, forming an illusory bronze gate full of ancient meanings that cannot be described in detail.

The door swayed and creaked, and a crack opened behind the gap, and behind the crack was darkness with no end in sight, and in the darkness seemed to hide innumerable, dense, indescribable eyes.

Affected by this illusory gate full of death, the "resentful spirit" attached to Lumian flew out irresistibly.

The next second, he fell to the ground, because "Hela" had raised his right hand and pressed his forehead, and the unusually ancient bronze gate disappeared, and the glow of the bloom retracted into the breach.

"Hela" then looked at "Loki", who was still sleeping.

The leader of April Fool's Day has an ordinary face, so close to those who live on White Coat Street that it is impossible to tell the difference.

"Hela" stared for two seconds, and her eyes quickly lost focus.

"Loki" in his dreams.

Dressed in Black Widow clothes, "Hela" appears in front of an ancient castle shrouded in a light gray mist.

The gates of the castle were open, dead as the entrance to a tomb.

"Hela" glanced up at the dark castle with its large number of spires and thin shape, and entered the gate, through the atrium, which was not clear, into the hall where a chandelier of unknown light source hung with strange shapes.

There were a large number of guests standing in the hall, each with a rather dull expression and a motionless body, as if they were just wax figures.

Surrounded by dozens or hundreds of "wax figures", there is a gray platform with three stone steps, and in the middle of the platform is an ancient dark red seat.

At this time, there was a man of twenty-seven or eighteen years old in the seat.

He wears a silk top hat and a black tuxedo, his eyes are dark gray, his hair is short brown, the bridge of his nose is high, and the corners of his mouth are slightly upturned, with a smile that is not very obvious.

The man leaned back relaxedly against the armrests on either side, leaning back against the back of the chair.

"Who are you?" His voice echoed through the castle, as if questioning Hela.

"Hela" walked past the crowd of suspected wax figures and walked up the steps to the man.

Her cold voice asked without any heaval in her voice:

"Loki, don't you know me?"

"Loki" laughed even more obviously:

"Hela, you found it anyway.......

"Hela" took advantage of the other party's dream state and asked bluntly:

"Why did you murder a member of the Society?

"Loki" tilted his head slightly, and laughed:

"The only value of those idiots is to give us fun.

"You should also know very well that the end will come in a few years, and they will die sooner or later, so it is better to sacrifice themselves in advance and entertain us."

Hela fell silent, the air around her grew colder, and pale, rotting palms loomed out of the stone-brick floor and the surrounding walls.

After a few seconds, she spoke again:

"Why did you murder Muggles? ”

"Loki" stopped laughing, looked at "Hela", hooked the corners of his mouth and said:

"Because.......

His expression changed suddenly, and Hela sensed some kind of danger coming from her dream.

Because, Fusheng Xuanhuang Tianzun ........

Loki's voice quickly faded away, and the entire dream began to collapse under the will of Hela.

The castle crumbled to pieces and disappeared into pure but illusory darkness.

In the real world, in an uninhabited mine beneath Trier.

"Hela" opened her eyes, and there were countless living creatures wriggling under her pale skin.

Her figure quickly vanished, re-sketched, and no longer had the anomaly she had just presented.

"Loki's" body had crumbled into a puddle of flesh and twisted worms crawling in and out of it.

"Hela" watched silently, and found no extraordinary properties to precipitate.

In the dark castle shrouded in a thin mist, a dark red coffin was placed in a gloomy room.

A pale palm suddenly protruded from the coffin, clinging to the edge of the plank.