When the so-called [Overlord] cut off, or rather ate alive, the head of the last dark angel, Morgan was finally able to see its essence.

It was fog, ominous, blood-red fog.

It was exactly the same as the evil chapters that tortured her spirit for eternity.

In other words, they are the same kind, but they are just many sides of one dice whose nature and means are indistinguishable.

——————

If you give in to those blue and purple whispers in your heart, will you also become like this?

She looked at the [Overlord] who was slowly walking and fell into a deep silence.

Morgan's pupils reflected the appearance of the greatest warrior of the past: its arms and legs were still unimaginably strong, but the once huge, hideous head was now shriveled, and the sharp teeth could no longer pour out words, only drooling incessantly, like a fool.

Its blood flowed without any sign of stopping, and despite the amount of blood it had slain, its own blood had not been spared.

The head of the swelling hound had drained the last of its bravery and strength, barking triumphantly, but longing for more, never satisfied.

Morgan stared at it, at the crimson mist that had once surrounded the alien and now completely occupied its limbs, and she sniffed softly, smelling blood and brains.

[War, Killing, Savagery, Hatred, Destruction, Anger, Skull, Deathmatch, Bestiality, Bravery, ......]

As the blood fog got closer and closer, more and more persecuted, countless words came with the roar of the savage god, smashing at Morgan's will one after another like an angry mace, and then turning into nothingness in front of the thick spiritual barrier of the genetic prototype.

The vicious woman frowned, rummaging through her memories and perceptions, searching for the meaning of the words, and their nature.

Look for them one by one.

OK one by one.

Her brow tightened.

——————

Everything is hierarchical.

The same goes for emotions.

There is a hierarchy between joy, smile and ecstasy are far from being compared, and there is also a hierarchy of hatred, some hatred only requires a single punch, while some hatred requires generations, endlessly entangled, until one of them disappears completely.

The same: gratitude, contempt, jealousy...... This is true for all emotions.

Morgan wasn't sure what he sensed in these overwhelming mists of blood: fear? Disdain? Or is it simply jealousy?

There seem to be some.

But one thing is certain.

She narrowed her eyes, her fingertips flashing with an invisible edge, and with a flick of it, she severed the sharp claws of the menacing miasma, leaving only a never-ending roar of anger echoing in the sea of souls.

The moment she wielded her psionic energy, the roar seemed to be unusually loud.

She didn't dislike the will, she hated the voice of the gods who boasted of war, killing, and reckless destruction.

Just as the savage gods didn't like her either.

The unimaginable power of mortals continued to gather in Morgan's fingertips, and she hesitated for a moment, and then she swung thousands of invisible scythes almost arrogantly, causing the blood-red mist that had been overwhelming to fall in the blink of an eye, and it was no longer what it used to be.

The roar of rage was even bigger and more terrifying, it seemed like it could pounce on her at any moment and tear her to pieces, in fact, she could feel that a destructive force was intending to do so.

Then, another long laugh came.

It was an incomparably seductive, incomparably intimate, incomparably obscene laughter, which was used from all directions, and swept away in the blink of an eye.

She guessed right.

Annoyed war cries and obscene laughter collided in the invisible sky, and even the never-ending howling wind above the desert was temporarily silenced by the collision of the two giants.

They were fighting, they were fighting, they were wielding blasphemous powers that mortal beings could never have imagined, and this dispute seemed to be the first time, and it seemed to have been played out countless times, it seemed to last only a second, and it seemed to continue until the end of time.

Until the third force belated, it was another long screech, like a myriad of twisted eyeballs and tentacles multiplying in the void.

The three fangs of the gods were thus intertwined, and they fought each other without a boundary: tyrannical attacks, treacherous dodging, laughing wounds......

The endless laughter intertwined and eventually became a net that faded away until they disappeared into the farthest corners of the Sea of Souls, never to be seen again.

Morgan looked up, looking up at the beings she could not fight against now, or even look directly at them, gradually disappearing at the very end of her will, she knew that these three forces were far from their serious attitude, this was only a faint pastime for the three most terrifying beings, and when their endless will was cast on countless individuals, these three blasphemous gods in the void drew out their worthless gesture and power, and consumed their never-ending emptiness in this unknown corner.

But despite this, she laughed.

Laugh at this sudden opportunity.

What was in front of her was not her plan, but when she realized that a being she had never seen before, but as terrifying as the blasphemous evil gods in her mind, was staying for the battle, her mind naturally jumped into the desire to provoke and observe.

She knew it was going to be fine, because the moment she unleashed her psionic energy, the blue and purple mist flooded from her heart again.

Even, when that defiant thought came to her mind, she could hear the twisted laughter.

Morgan's smile only existed for a moment.

What happened before her eyes proved that the gods were not united.

At the very least, when events do not alarm them, they do not mind facing other people of their kind with hostility and confrontation, and even see such cannibalism as a subject to kill time.

This time, she came to this conclusion.

That's enough.

She still had a long life, and she almost instinctively sensed how long she had to learn about her nightmares.

Go a little deeper.

Go for a little bit of analysis.

Go a little bit of trying.

Someday.

She'll get what she wants.

——————

As for this poor worm......

Her gaze shifted to the former [Overlord], and as the scarlet mist was dispersed by her, the greedy hounds could only suck the host's blood more and more frantically, this alien who originally had a mixture of dark red and dark black skin, and now his arms had appeared large pale marks.

It knelt on the ground, its eyes finally regaining a rare glimmer of clarity.

Morgan looked at it silently, she wasn't in the mood to end the suffering in front of her.

But it doesn't matter, someone has.

Hurried footsteps came from behind him, and Morgan didn't even need to look back to know what was happening.

Peel back the smoke that permeates the entire battlefield and almost never dissipates.

Hecht is finally here.

——————

By the time the Nova of the Second Legion arrived, it was all over.

He looked at the bridge, the burning bridge, wrapped in endless smoke and flames, like a slowly opening door to hell, and countless demons were occupying the other side of the bridge, with blood and the last wounded in a carnival that could not be seen in the world.

[Keep going.] 】

The voice rang out in his heart.

Hector didn't answer, didn't fluctuate, he just moved quietly forward.

He knew who the voice belonged to.

Therefore, at the command of this voice, he came here one step ahead of his own team, and he was silent all the way, and he did not say anything more to his most trusted Excellency Chron.

Hector advanced, clenching his sword.

He smelled the battle.

But until then, he had questions, many, many questions, and wanted to be answered by that voice.

He knew she would answer.

Eventually, he came to the middle of the bridge, and in front of him was a monster, a twisted lump of flesh that was slightly similar to the [Ran Dan] in his impression.

It looked as if it had been abandoned by a moody god, transforming from some formless, thoughtless, or even meaningless monster to the purest of kinds.

[Kill it.] 】

The voice came again, this time, very close.

In fact, he could see her.

"Ms. Morgan."

That's what the dark angels call her.

She leaned against a pile of mysterious objects unknown to Hecht, draped over a garment covered in runes, a garment with wide cuffs, a pure white main color and pitch-black runes, and below that was the blue and black dress and riding boots of Morgan himself.

She sat casually on top of the oddly shaped pile of stone carvings and shackles, her knees arched and her arms braced, and then she stared at her chin and long silver hair, her blue pupils casually skimming him, and giving him a smile.

Hector looked at her.

Looking at this existence that made him respect, worship, close, afraid, confused, joyful, terrified, and even a trace of anger, his ......

[Offense, Hecht.] 】

She spoke.

[Victory does not favor those who hesitate. 】

"Neither will I. 】

Hecht wanted to say something.

But before that, he had already rushed at the monster.

——————

It was a torture.

For both sides, this is true.

Hector had never fought such a powerful and crazy opponent, and perhaps there was no shortage of more powerful Astarte warriors in the arena, but the contests between the fighting brothers were always civilized and knew the most basic advances and retreats and etiquette.

But this ...... in front of you Thing, the only thing it could do was to kill desperately, and the endless roar of pain, and he could even see the real head suffering in endless twisting and regret.

Kill me!

It's roaring, even pleading.

Hector didn't answer, he just squeezed every ounce of his strength and threw himself into every deadly encounter and fight, the indescribable thing in front of him changing all the time, from claws to fangs, from snake-like tails to sharp horns, and every moment its attack changed its appearance.

The fight continues, and it seems to continue for eternity.

And Morgan just watched.

She watched the tall silver-armored warrior fight, watching him match the countless attacks, and with his most primitive strength, astute instincts, and increasingly solid foundations, he stood up to the twisted monster.

Morgan's gaze even briefly moved to the strange alien's body, and the moment she looked over, the so-called [Overlord] turned into a two-headed octopus again, waving its eight-sided fangs.

Chaos Egg.

The term flashed through her mind, and by the time she tried to find it again, it was gone.

And just when she was slightly distracted, the battle was over.

Hecht's longsword avoided the edge, allowing a sharp claw to cut a large heamine hole in his breastplate, allowing the blood to begin to flow, and as he expected, he withstood the blow.

Then, the sword blade that still had some strength unleashed half a round of moonlight in the air, and it swept the [Overlord's] head with precision, and the shriveled head immediately fell to the ground.

The head, the last will of the [Overlord], fell into the blood and mud, the light in its eyes gradually dissipated, and the mouth covered with fangs opened slightly, revealing a human language.

"Good play......"

Then there was no more sound.

But Hector had no time to care: the monster wasn't dead, on the contrary, it was expanding uncontrollably, and the huge hound head was roaring and screaming for the last of its resistance.

And it was at this time that a black shadow suddenly inserted into the center of the battlefield.

From that floating reflection, several torrents of blazing flames shot out, and in the blink of an eye, the huge monster burned into a mass of struggling ashes.

Hector's eyes widened, and he looked at the unknown spoiler in disbelief, and then he saw one dark angel after another come out of it.

The time had come for the First Legion to agree on a Terra, and now they had come to take over Andrews' position.

Several dark angels carried the hot melt, and they burned the twisted monster to ashes without any waves, like old farmers cutting wheat, while the others walked to the other end of the burning bridge with their weapons.

And the last man, he glanced at Hecht like an old man looking over a naughty child at home.

Then, he walked over to Morgan.

"Ms. Morgan."

[It's me.] 】

"Now, we have a new mission that we need your help with."

[Ah......h

Morgan hesitated—for a moment, and then, she laughed, having roughly guessed something.

[Willing to help.] 】