"Ordinary people?" Sherlock smiled, then looked at his hand, savoring the extremely terrifying power between the fingers of the veteran in front of him when he shook hands just now, and couldn't help but feel that on the front line of the war, it seems that the concept of "ordinary people" is completely different from the hinterland of the empire

In fact, Moriarty realized a long time ago that there is no distinction between contractors and ordinary people in this world, because everyone is under the influence of 'hell'.

For example, the bodyguard next to Erin is called, what is it called?

Godfrey? Or Goebel?

Whatever?

In short, at Erin's bar at the time, Hopkins mentioned this man, an ordinary mortal, who had killed more than twenty clergy of the Holy See.

As we all know, the clergy of the Holy See are not only contractors, but also generally trained by the Holy See, and have reached the second order of strong people, most of these people have the strength to tear apart a large living person with their bare hands, and some contractors have strong vitality and physical strength that can survive machine gun fire.

So how could an ordinary person kill such a guy?

If it is because Godfrey has a strong ability to assassinate, through various traps or stratagems, he pushes a clergyman into a corner, and then assassinates him

So, what's the matter with that old beggar?

The guy could cut through a load-bearing wall made of concrete and steel with his speed, and he could throw Sherlock out of the way with just one arm, and the military's steam chariots couldn't stop him.

Oh, by the way, and this guy Watson, he is not a contractor either, but as long as this thing is given enough time to kill a few third-order great contractors, it will definitely be no problem.

Now, the strength displayed by this veteran named Ulysses is definitely not what a human should be, how can anyone crack the snow layer on the ground that is frozen like an iron plate with his hands alone?

At least from a biological point of view, it doesn't make sense.

Why, then, do some ordinary people also have powerful physical changes? In fact, as long as you think about it a little, you can find that these people have an extremely obvious characteristic.

That is. It's all close to the gates of hell.

Godfrey and Watson are both veterans, which goes without saying, Major General Ulysses has been on the front line of Hell's Gate for more than thirty years, and the old beggar, although Sherlock doesn't know much about it, but he must have some kind of relationship with Hell's Gate, and the contractor has also been with the demons in Hell for a long time, and his body has gradually changed, in short, it can be said that the closer to hell, the stronger the power.

The most favorable proof of this argument is that Sherlock and Dante are the only two people in the entire empire, who should have been to hell.

Sherlock has been in contact with hell in his dreams all year round, so he is only the peak of the second order now, but he has already surpassed the strength of most third-order contractors, and Dante, the old man, after entering hell, directly broke through the peak of the third stage of the contract and came to a height that no one has ever reached.

Therefore, on the front line, even those who do not have the ability to control demons should have more or less stronger bodies than the citizens in the hinterland of the empire, which also explains why on the front line, the Holy Cult Army, which has a large number of Covenanter legions, is in a certain level of combat power with the government army.

Think deeper, though.

The closer people get to hell, the stronger their bodies become, but those divine servants who have served the Holy Light all year round are all strangely shaped, all deformed, and their bodies are even more emaciated.

Thinking about it this way, if there were no creatures like 'demons', wouldn't human beings be extremely close to hell, but the Holy Light would have become some kind of terrifying existence in the eyes of human beings?

At this point, Sherlock's active mind suddenly burst into countless conjectures, but these conjectures were just nonsense without any basis.

So, he temporarily pressed these thoughts down first, and looked at Ensign Millsap beside him with a smile:

"Don't be so disappointed, let's win tomorrow, we have a big chance of winning."

What are the odds of winning?

The expression on Millsap's face froze at this moment.

One thing to say, the detective from London in front of him has given him an absolute shock, a genius-like brain, incredible wild demon matching speed, with a second-order contract level, crushing control of the third-order big demon, and the strength of individual combat can be comparable to that of Baskerville.

If such a person is put into the battlefield, whether it is participating in scientific research support in the rear or going deep into the front line, he will inevitably shine.

But even so, in the face of that undead army, how could he say the word [win]?

Not far away, the remaining soldiers also looked at each other one by one, they were grateful to Sherlock for fighting for their dignity just now, and they also won dinner, but no one understood why Sherlock dared to say that his side would win tomorrow's competition.

Of course, they don't know that the Sherlock in their eyes actually only shows the side that he can say to outsiders.

Whether it was the killing of Augustine the Great or Dante's departure to the blood prison, these things were the top secrets that the government had strictly ordered to spread, and Baskerville's evaluation of Sherlock He only said that Sherlock had fought with him, but he did not say what the final result of the battle that tore through the snowfield was.

Of course, in addition to these, Sherlock has many secrets of his own, such as dreams that he can't get rid of since he was a child, such as hundreds of demons in hell, such as those tentacles waiting to die for him at all times, such as the wonderful temple of thought, such as the sun hanging in the universe, looking down on everything.

Nightfall, 517 theater of operations.

This is the front line, the front line, because of the geographical location, it has experienced a full 4 months of dark nights, there is no moon in sight, only the stars in the sky and the lights of the military bases on the ground bring a glimmer of light to this frozen land, because of the lack of sunlight, the average temperature here is maintained at about minus 40 degrees all year round, and the howling wind leaves ice and hoarfrost that deviate with the wind on those steel frames.

This is the deepest military base of the entire Imperial Army on the Antarctic continent, and it is also the closest place to the Devil's Gate.

At this time, in a dimly lit barracks, the steam internal combustion engine was humming to provide precarious temperatures for this extreme war zone, but fortunately, the soldiers who lived here were used to the noise, and if anyone else came here, they might be so shocked that they couldn't sleep for days.

"Suzu ~ Suzu ~ Suzu ~"

A phone rings.

It was extremely difficult to establish communications here, and in those days, in order to build signal transmission facilities, more than 60 people died in the Empire's Information Department, and the government army paid two battalions of heavy casualties.

A pair of bloodless hands quickly answered the phone, and under the oldest-fashioned gas lamp, a shadow was reflected, wrapped in a thick cotton coat, but it still couldn't hide the overly thin silhouette.

"I'm Barton."

The man put the microphone to his ear and whispered.

In fact, it was only the softest tone that this man had when he spoke, but its volume was like that of a giant clock on the banks of the Thames, and it shook his emaciated bones.

"So, the one named Sherlock has already met with Major General Ulysses?"

"Excellent! Tomorrow, send all the war correspondents! The Propaganda Department of the 404 Military Region is on standby, and in the course of the mission, at least 1,000 photos must be produced. ”

"yes, that guy named Sherlock, give me more pictures of his face."

"I don't care what methods those war correspondents use, anyway, try to shoot as much as possible. Be handsome."

(End of chapter)