It was a war that spirits had never experienced and had never imagined.

In the Aqua Blue Star, in the five transcendent realms, in the land of the Nile, the exotic gods appeared in an invincible form, taking away the source of spiritual power, leaving behind a place of pollutants and turning away.

The cultivators at that time rushed towards them one after another, trying to stop all this, but the end was like moths to a fire, and it did nothing except to pollute the body and mind, and add a wandering pollutant to the world.

Then, the source of spiritual power was taken away by the gods, and the spiritual energy was depleted.

The top cultivators of the Five Great Realms realized this matter at the first time.

For the first time, they put aside their barriers and reached a resolution in the face of the multiplying pollutants that roamed and proliferated on the planet, the world that continues to be eroded by polluting forces and is about to be destroyed, and the extraordinary forces on which humanity depends for survival but is destined to disappear.

The spirits didn't know the specifics of that decision.

I only know that after that decision, the five transcendent realms formed an alliance, and formed an alliance together according to the heads of other small forces and even alien beasts, vowing to fight the pollution to the end with every ounce of strength.

War.

Ongoing wars.

Protracted wars.

No one was spared in such a war.

The spirits and their priests roamed the battlefield, battling the strange, frenzied contaminants all day long, without a moment of rest or rest.

The old priest who accompanied it was no longer young, but she still followed it step by step.

"I am your priest, and I will be with you until death, and I will ...... you"

"I'm also a cultivator, my abilities are all born to repair your armor, and there is no better priest besides me."

"Such a disgusting thing dares to invade Nile! Let's kill them together! ”

The old woman was on crutches and read the Book of the Dead in a hoarse voice.

Suddenly, the maiden priestess seemed to be back to it.

The long-lost will fluctuations reappeared, but in an instant, they were pressed back by the heavy shackles.

Fight.

Fight.

Fight.

The spirit fulfills the only mission it has been given since its birth.

On the battlefield, it saw the father of Sur VII, the grandfather of Sur VII, the ancestors of Sur VII, and all sorts of powerful people...... The dead appeared on the battlefield one after another, and then disappeared one after another.

Many of them died.

The spirits who had already died once, and had been awakened by the populace, were really dead this time.

Kill those contaminants.

Kill those ......

Slay......

The spirit has no flinching, no fear—it has never been expected to have these useless feelings.

— even when that jaw tore it apart.

It was the last battle in the minds of the spirits.

It fights a flesh-like xenomorph with a huge mouth.

The thing seemed clumsy and sluggish, but it was very difficult, because ordinary attacks had little effect on it, and the thunder whip shadow struck it, seemingly tearing the meat ball, but in an instant, the meat ball xenomorph grew a new huge mouth from the wound.

Not only can the xenomorph's massive maw bite and swallow enemies, but it can also spit out green acid that corrodes and dissolves everything it comes into contact with.

Spirits fighting this xenomorph will inevitably be stained with some sporadic acid, and the golden body, which is not solid, will be corroded into pits.

Fortunately, it still has its priests.

Under the chanting of the priest hiding in the shadows, its corroded coffin was restored to new condition in the blink of an eye.

The battle was raging, and it was in a stalemate.

The spirit priest was so focused that almost all of his attention was on her pharaoh, so much so that he ignored that behind her, there was a two-headed serpent-like xenomorph quietly approaching.

It wasn't very fast, and if it had been a young priest, he might have been able to repel it with his sword drawn, and then turn and flee.

But she's old.

She is no longer as sharp as she was young, and she is no longer flexible as she was young.

She didn't notice it until the two-headed snake xenomorph approached her two meters and opened her mouth to chant a prayer.

(My lover and I were born from the death of blood. ）”

The frantic words pierced her mind, and the priest turned around in pain from the explosion of his head and touched the dagger at his waist, but tripped over his own crutches and fell to the ground.

She's old......

As she leaned down, the priest suddenly had a premonition of her end.

She would fall to the ground, fall to the ground, and be unable to get up for a while because of old age.

She would unsuspectingly hear the prayers of those monsters, and scream in pain, gradually turning into monsters in pain.

But she doesn't really turn herself into a monster.

She would clench the dagger in her hand with all her might, slicing her throat while she was still breathing and able to control her movements.

This is the end of her, and the end of all the priests.

Born in the mortal world but died on the battlefield.

In all the priests' imagination of death, there was never a place for the deceased. Although she spent her life serving the dead, even at the end of her life, she never imagined that the Pharaoh would come to her rescue.

Because the dead are never like that.

Although these deceased have the most revered status in the world, the old woman who is a priest actually knows very well that they don't have much self-awareness, and they are the purest tools of battle.

Without the guidance of the Book of the Dead, they would not have stepped out of the tomb to take a look, even if the heavens were falling apart.

The dead are weapons...... They're just weapons.

Weapons do not look back at the life and death of a human being, even if that person is its priest.

She wouldn't let it do that.

It was the fate of the Pharaoh to enjoy all the glory and wealth of the world during his lifetime, and to protect a nation and fight for the Nile forever after his death.

Born in the mortal world and dying on the battlefield, dedicating one's life without a name or surname—this is the destiny of the priests.

She had known for a long time, from the day she became a priest.

The old woman clenched her dagger and closed her eyes.

But the moment the metallic luster reflected in front of her eyes, her eyes suddenly widened.

The golden body that was born to fight suddenly stood in front of her.

……

But she's been contaminated.

The bones of her limbs were shattered and broken, a strange snake skull was bulging out of her shoulder, and the surface of her body was cracked and bloody, but the forehead that flowed from the wound was not blood, but black, twisted snake scales.

Her face was old and distorted, but the simplest mind of the spirit burst into thought like never before.

It didn't want her dead.

It didn't know what was going on, but it just didn't want her to die.

This strong will even broke through the shackles that had held it in its place, causing it to disobey the priests' instructions to "fight".

The apparition of the golden eagle appeared at the top of the scepter, submerged into the priest's body, desperately trying to save her, even the flesh ball xenomorphs that were approaching behind her.

It can't be blamed for that.

The snake shadow represents the power of destruction, and the eagle shadow represents the power of protection.

In Ancient Niro's magic, this power is two completely opposite extremes, and cannot be compatible at the same time.

Although it gained two powers at the same time with the body of the dead, even it could not break through the limitations of the cultivation itself.

If it wants to save people, it must give up fighting.

Its priests, however, saw the fleshy ball aliens approaching.

As if she realized something, she raised her head with great effort, revealing an expression that looked like a smile: "Don't waste your spiritual power for me...... Have you forgotten you're still fighting......

"I am your priest.

"Only I died for you, where is the reason why you died for me?"

In front of it, she used her last strength to lift her dagger and stabbed herself in the heart.

……

The spirits let out a mournful, silent cry.

For the first time, without the guidance of a priest, it burst out with unparalleled combat effectiveness.

……

Fight, fight.

Fight, fight.

……

Three days later, the high priest of Nile found it scarred, almost completely broken.

The high priest knelt on the ground and cried in a low voice: "I'm sorry, my king, we're late. It was our incompetence that allowed you to die here. ”

- How is she?

Spirits have such thoughts.

The high priest could not hear its heart, but lowered his head and stroked its broken coffin: "I'm sorry...... We don't have enough spiritual materials to repair your coffin......"

- I wonder how she is?

The spirits screamed in their hearts, but they couldn't make a sound.

The High Priest lifted the tattered coffin of Sur VII and carried it back to its burial chamber.

To the surprise of the spirits, the walls of the tomb, which had always been clean and clean, were now covered with strange and complicated rune circles with dark red blood.

And what frightened it was that the breath of these blood stains turned out to be a little familiar.

"My king, although Nile no longer has access to spiritual materials to repair your injuries, the golden coffin itself has a certain ability to heal itself, and as long as it is placed in an environment rich in spiritual power, it will slowly repair itself." The High Priest placed it on a strange but familiar stone platform and bowed again, "So, we have drawn a closed circle here.

"After I leave, your burial chamber will become a confined space, and the spiritual power in the circle will slowly escape for your use. Although the spiritual content here is very small, as long as it lasts long enough, you still have hope to repair and survive. ”

- I just want to know how she is?!

The spirits roared silently.

The high priest raised his head slightly, with a somewhat unbearable look, and finally answered the answer it had always wanted to know in a hoarse voice: "The spiritual power material for drawing the circle comes from your priest.

"You don't have to be sad, you don't have to feel guilty—this is her last wish, and it is the destiny of every priest in this age."

Spiritual materials.

What a cruel word.

Spiritual power is a power that can only be obtained from living beings, and for most of the past, humans relied on hunting alien beasts to obtain spiritual power materials.

So much so that they almost forgot that humans are also animals in nature, and there is no difference between them and the alien beasts they hunt.

The flesh and blood of the cultivator itself is also a high-quality spiritual power material.

It wasn't until the end of the Dharma era when the aura was cut off that this rule was remembered by the last generation of human cultivators.

The spirits wept silently.

There was a man who was willing to serve it for the rest of his life before he was alive and was willing to sacrifice his flesh and blood to it after he died.

But it lost that person forever, forever.

This time of damning, madness, despair.

The high priest bowed one last time, and finally slowly retreated in a kneeling position until he reached the outside of the tomb, then gently closed the door of the tomb, got up and resolutely rushed towards the pollutant of the city.

The spirits of the darkness returned to silence and silence.

It seems to have stopped being sad and angry.

It began to desperately absorb spiritual power to restore itself, waiting for the day when it would return to the battlefield in the future—

But until all the injuries in the body healed on their own, until the decay of the rune circle dissipated, until the Nilotic belief in the dead was almost gone, until the spiritual rank slowly fell, and no priest came to open the door of this small tomb.

When we see the light of day again, it is already 4,000 years of time flowing, and the vicissitudes of life are subverted.

I feel like I haven't stabbed anyone for a long time, and my hand is raw.

(Innocent)

(End of chapter)