When the monstrous hammer of the Worldbreaker fell on him, Ferus Manus thought nothing.

He just swings the hammer.

The two huge forces collided head-on, and the howling wind and shock wave suddenly descended with the manic sparks, and the pitch-black dust that had originally covered the ground was swept away, and its original appearance was finally revealed, shining with silver light, engraved with reliefs, containing the painstaking efforts and ingenuity of the craftsmen, but it had been completely polluted by the chaos of obscurity.

However, I don't know if there is some kind of force pushing behind it, or if it is really just a terrible coincidence on top of that silver brick, and the name of Ferus is quietly staying in the center.

He didn't notice it.

How could he find out? Is it hard to remove the steel boots and look down at the floor tiles?

No, there was only one thing he could do now, and that was to resist the power of Horus Lupecar with a hammer in both hands. What had once been their brother had been a single hand that had lightly suppressed him in the wrestling, leaving him with no time to care, and causing his muscles and bones to let out a dull wail.

The Worldbreaker brutally ravages the Furnacebreaker, its spiky surface wrapped in a scarlet glow that resembles pulsing lightning. But it was not really 'lightning', it was not a force of nature, and it took on this form only because the thing holding it wanted to see it.

It's like he wants to see the world burn.

As long as he wants

Ferus let out a low gasp as a greatsword slashed over his head.

It cut a dangerous arc, but in the middle of it turned into a thorn, stabbing at Horus with absolute and naked killing intent.

A giant claw stopped it and even knocked it out. The lion's pupils shrank, and he immediately roared and swung out Rieman Ruth's spear, and the golden light condensed at the tip of the spear as if it were slow and fast.

It was supposed to be a fatal blow, but Horus only had to glance at it, and the lion flew upside down with his spear, as if he had been hit head-on by some giant beast, and blood gushed out from the cracks in his armor, and the lion fell to the ground, trembling and vomiting a large mouthful of blood.

There was even a little confusion on his face, not understanding what he had been hit. He was so badly wounded, however, Horus didn't actually touch his brother at all.

Just a look, just a look.

He could have killed him outright

Why not? Something asked softly.

Horus Lupecal snorted disdainfully in this whisper, and gave a warning.

He turned around and began to continue to control the force to torment Ferus Manus, pressing down with the force of his fingertips so that Ferus Manus and his furnace breaker let out a low, overwhelmed gasp.

Aren't you here yet? He asked the void.

The Void didn't answer, and instead of answering the matter was a terrifying greatsword in the form of a furious flame.

The sound of it smashing through the air was like the wailing of thousands of souls in unison, and Horus turned his head to look at his once-glorious but now tormented brother. A smile suddenly appeared on the pale face that was filled with a red glow.

Very good. Then we'll see how long you wait. I don't mind putting on a play alone for you, Father.

"I miss you so much, dear Fugen."

He said as he smiled as he withdrew the Worldbreaker as he gripped the Sword of Fury with the giant claw of his right hand. The fury that should have been wrapped around the power claw to burn his flesh did not move, and even began to slowly extinguish.

"Do you remember who the first person was?" Suddenly, he asked.

Fogham shuddered and howled.

Of course he remembers, how could he not remember? He remembered each and every one, their names, their faces, their personalities

And, how they died for him.

He tried to resist, to try to make the greatsword burn again with the dark power of the soul-destroying bones, and he wanted them to burn it, the monster that was standing in front of him with the face of Horus Lupecal.

Unfortunately, he couldn't.

Still can't do it.

"You haven't sacrificed enough."

The monster began to explain to him gently, in an affectionate tone as if they had stood side by side in the past.

"You have the determination and the consciousness to do whatever it takes, but he doesn't want you to be his slave after all. How ridiculous, Fugan? His kindness is useless. And I want to know, his kindness—"

He took a step forward, crushing the Flame Sword and slamming it out, swinging its claws through Foggrim's chest and stabbing it again.

In the midst of the piercing pain, Phoenix heard him say, "—Is it the last straw that crushes you at this moment?" ”

Fogrem looked him straight in the eye and smiled slowly at the sound of Larch's screams.

Ferus Manus swung the Furnace Breaker from behind Horus in an ugly pose.

At the same time, the Lord of the Fire Dragons strode in with an unparalleled rage—he was the first of the many primordial beings who had been held back by the Spirits.

The face that had always been gentle had been completely distorted, and sticky blood was slowly flowing from his dark forehead, it was not his blood, but it made his face even colder and inhuman.

Horus turned around and threw Fogham out of the way, the phoenix's blood spilling in the air, and before it could hit the ground, another muffled sound was heard. Ferus Manus was also knocked out, his breastplate dented.

However, this seemed to be the limit of what he could do—how could he deal with Vulcan, who was in a rage and had already launched an unstoppable charge at him?

The answer is to do nothing.

Bursts of darkness poured out of the air, as thick as the blood of a living creature, or otherworldly water. Vulcan's charge stopped, and the ground beneath his feet turned into a fire that engulfed him. Flesh and blood splattered, and the expression of the Lord of the Fire Dragon did not fluctuate, as if it had been expected.

"We're going to kill you." The blacksmith of the Nocturne declared, and the mad killing intent boiled and burned. "We're going to skin you and cramp you, and we'll break your flesh and bones."

"You'd better crawl out of that fire pit first, brother." Horus replied with a smile. "Also, I forgive you for some offenses."

So, who's next?

He looked up.

"Ahh

With a low sigh, Horus turned his head sideways to dodge the stab of the Spear of Bigong, and then immediately took two steps back, dodging the slash of the White Tiger's broadsword. Without any words or communication, St. Giles and Chagatai stormed Horus, one left and one right.

They had been the best friends with him, but now they really wanted to kill him—and who wouldn't, of course?

Who wouldn't want to kill him but his stupid sons and the demons of Chaos?

After all, disappointment is inevitable.

"Chagatai." Horus shook his head slightly. "I used to think you could understand. Never mind. ”

He seemed to have lost all interest, and swallowed the rest of the words back. But the man of Chogoris did not respond, but only waved his sword. He didn't have anything to say, and he didn't even bother to give a disdainful look.

The Khan had long understood that all words and deeds were in vain, and that this person was not Horus Lupekar. He couldn't give it anything but killing intent.

This extreme concentration caused him to swing his sword faster and faster, and the white tiger's sword light continued endlessly, like a flowing stream

Then, he hit him.

Chagatai took a deep breath and slowly took two steps back, blood spurting from his abdomen.

"A scar." Horus flicked his claws to block the spear of the Done, and looked at Chagatai. "It's fair in exchange for another scar, brother?"

"It's not enough." Khan replied in a low voice. "It's not enough to just leave a slash on your shoulder armor, I'm going to make it appear on your neck."

Horus didn't answer, but turned to look at the angel. St. Giles was wrestling with him with all his spear. The opposition between black and white has never been so pure for a moment, and of course, the anger in St. Giles' eyes has never been so palpable.

Through the sharpness of the claw blade, Horus stared into his brother's eyes, and a tyrannical desire arose in his heart—he wanted to destroy his wings completely, pull them off, and let him break his limbs, thirsting for the god of blood in the dust

Horus's expression suddenly darkened.

He flicked his claws back against St. Giles, but the figure suddenly disappeared without warning. In the next second, he fell from the sky and hit St. Giles hard.

The Worldbreaker destroyed the angel's armor, but miraculously did not hurt any of his flesh, and the force far greater than Kabanha pierced into the ground, creating a crater several meters deep, and the angel lay in it, his face full of astonishment and even fear.

Not the fear of death, but for another thing.

Horus let go of his hand and left the Worldbreaker on his armor. He glanced at it, and the weight of the Worldbreaker increased dramatically, and the smoke and dust dispersed, and the angel was forced to sink deep into the ground again. He was still unharmed, and none of the forces really hurt him, even if it had made the crater widen as if it had been bombarded head-on by a missile.

Why.?

St. Giles looked at him with fear and anger at the same time.

Horus heard the question, but did not answer, but turned his head. Ferus Manus and Chagatai lunged upon him again, Fogham followed, the sword of fire was rekindled, and Vulcan roared to try to break free from Hell and come to his aid.

He smiled.

He slowly raised his right claw, and scarlet lightning began to beat between the five claws.

Time stopped immediately, and the order was obeyed, and the blade that should have been swung stopped in mid-air, and the man who should have died survived for a moment. The darkness cleared, and his roar resounded throughout Terra in the next second, then across the galaxy, and finally, the waves of chaos that were flowing through the subspace.

"Fuck off, I won't say it a third time." He said gloomily. "Don't try to get involved in this battle again, you're just spectators. If you dare to cross it again, the consequence will be death. ”

The Ancient Four gave a different response to this unexpected incident.

The King of Pleasure smiled and was full of interest.

The Lord of Decay, Furui Wubo, only lowered his head and stirred the cauldron, as if this matter was more important than anything else.

The blood-red one was furious, but he couldn't take his hands to deal with the matter for the time being.

His sword had pierced deep into a beating silver light, and it was constantly changing, changing into a white steed, then a great bird. The blue light danced like starlight, flowing like blood in this battle that no one could see.

And He is the one who laughs the most.

"What did you do?" Blood Red asked with a growl.

"Variables." So said the Lord of Change. "Even if it's just a skin, he's still Horus Lupecal."

"What did you do?!" Blood Red continued to growl.

He swung his sword and continued to slaughter Him.

The Lord of Change did not answer, but his laughter was uninterrupted, unconcerned about the pain and his own loss. He understands that He will be healed. Because the thread of fate is being cut root by root, and the established ugly ending is about to be completely changed.

Change, endless variation.

He had wanted this skin to really walk in the mortal world as a puppet in their place, but not long ago, he suddenly had a better idea.

Compared with a puppet who can only call out to his father, is a monarch with real ambition and vain attempts to usurp the throne more in line with his identity?

Isn't it more interesting than a small puppet that can be used up and thrown away, a monster that can cause chaos in the material universe for a long time?

His mind was unknown, but Horus's wrath was revealed.

He seemed to have been greatly insulted, and the anger made the countless dead who were hanging upside down in the royal court close their eyes at this moment, not daring to look at them again. The demons reined in their movements, and an instinctive fear rose from the depths of their flesh, forcing the monsters and the demons to scream in unison.

The court began to tremble, and the darkness dissipated, fading, and disappearing into the invisible. The fire was lit up, scarlet like eyes. Horus turned, abandoned the angel behind him, and strode in the other direction.

A sharp blade stabbed out of the darkness, and Conrad Coetze's pale face flickered, and his pupils were as black as the hollow sockets of the dead. Horus didn't look at him, didn't even stop his pace or block, the blade stopped in the air, strangely unable to move an inch.

Coetze's eyes narrowed, and he retreated, and another shadow similar to him fell from the sky, claws slashing at Horus's neck one after the other.

He got a similar result - the claw blade stopped in mid-air, unable to go deeper.

Unlike Conrad Coz, Horus raised his left hand and clenched his fist, knocking Corus Corax to the ground. But it's just a punch.

After this, he picked him up, threw him to Conrad Coetzes, and went on on his great footing, without even a superfluous look.

The Night King stood still, slowly exhaling a cloudy breath. He looked down at his brother in his arms, the Lord of the Stars struggling to spit out a mouthful of blood mixed with fragments of internal organs, his face cold.

"It's not time yet." The Night Lord said softly. "We'll have to wait."

"When?"

"Wait until he comes." Coetzes said. "Wait until . Two gems come together into one. But what is this monster going to do? ”

His question was answered in a matter of seconds.

Lupecar's court fell silent at this moment, and no sound remained, or transmitted in any way, except for the terrible silence.

Horus Lupecal tilted his head and stared at the thousands of dead who had been hung upside down in the royal court, his gaze distant and cold, as if he were gazing at the sky through it.

After a brief observation, he raised his right paw, and the scarlet lightning began to beat again. In this royal court, which has been expanded tens of thousands of times, all the living and the non-living on Terra are watching this scene, whether they want to see it or not.

They understand that he is gathering strength.

But why? Why such extreme honesty, what exactly does he want to do?

Only a handful of people were able to know the answer in advance, and one of them was named Azek Ahriman, a man who was purely blind. It stands to reason that he couldn't see what was happening at all, but he could 'feel' it.

He was already on his knees, his hands shaking—no matter how long it had been since he had used psionic powers, he was still a powerful psyker.

Knowledge existed in his mind, like psionic energy that slumbered deep in his marrow. At this moment, the extreme acumen that these two bring on top of each other is revealing one thing to Ahriman.

A very horrible thing.

He tried to warn, but he couldn't make any sound, and it was as if it had become a vacuum. His words could only be said from the bottom of his heart, and Ahriman knew that whatever he had to say, it must sound like a scream.

"You can't run away all the time."

Horus Lupecal said so in his royal court, and at this moment, he was the only voice here.

He clenched his right claw, red light scattered, and the ground began to boil. Someone started screaming silently, a lot of people. They used to be soldiers, civilians, or Astarte, but they will soon be not.

In the spread of red light, millions of seats quietly emerged from under the people. They were forced to sit up, and then their bodies began to change. No, not just the body – but the soul, and everything.

The human form began to metamorphose, becoming heterogeneous and distorted. Souls are painfully altered in light, and the power of darkness pours into them, tearing memories apart and turning everything they hold dear to ashes.

But this is not the end, because these ashes are being shaped by a force in an absolutely tough stance.

A nascent race, a radically opposite to humanity, they have left their own reflection in the subspace as soon as they appeared, and they had never appeared before. And after that, they will always exist.

How powerful is that?

How can a skin that has been poured its strength do this? Even the three of the Ancient Four were puzzled by this, and their questioning was only laughed by the initiators.

He didn't know what he had done, he just pushed some things forward and blurred some of the original boundaries

From the beginning of the name Vengeful Spirit, that line began to blur completely. He didn't know what the consequences of his actions were, but that's what was interesting.

That's it. He watched feverishly as the body gradually filled, even possessing the skin of its own dependents, and made a proclamation in the storm of chaos.

"I acknowledge your birth!"

Horus Lupecar stared at him indifferently and mercilessly, without saying a word.

The power that the four gods had poured into his body began to be devoured gradually. Joy, decay, and blood tried to take it back, but it was too late, and they blessed him at all costs, and finally tasted the bitter fruit today.

Only the Lord of All Changes, willingly, even began to bow down briefly, worshipping the new god who was about to be born—a god of creation, a noble new god with the power of the ancient four and a piece of the eternal spiral of hatred.

A god who is waiting for his father.

"I'll be waiting for you right here." Horus Lupecar calmly declared. "Come to me, father."

There was a voice.

The second voice, in this temple beyond the royal court—but what is that? Can anyone describe it specifically?

If other people can still speak, some people may say that this sound sounds like thunder, but there must be other people who immediately refute it, how can it be thunder? It's obviously the sound of a sword unsheathed.

Or maybe it's the sound of horses' hooves, the sound of war drums, the sound of shields being beaten, the sound of a king reciting a long poem, a wise man cursing fate, or a warrior's angry roar

It was a father's heart-wrenching sigh.

The golden light rose like a meteor through the thick darkness above the royal court. Piercing the night, bringing a glimmer of light, and then a raging thunderbolt, millions of ways, piercing the darkness together.

The marshal looked at his father.

The Emperor looked at his sworn enemy.

"You should be glad I have a merciful heart." Horus said coldly. "I could have killed your son and your people, but I wouldn't do it. I am still tolerant of them. Not like you, father. You are full of lies and send them to die. ”

The Emperor didn't answer, and the air suddenly began to tremble—was something about to fall? What is it?

Countless people are waiting eagerly, eagerly, longing, screaming that their only king will save humanity here, and can completely cut off the head of the number one rebel. Unbeknownst to them, however, the battle had already taken place.

The trembling air is the afterglow of the end, not the clarion call of the beginning.

The Emperor took a slight step back.

The demons applaud.

"Silence." Horus said.

They were immediately silent.

"You're still stalling, father." Horus said calmly and unusually. "I know what you want to do, you want to drag him in, but it can only be him, not Karil Lohals."

"That god will not be hostile to me, even if I share in his authority to a certain extent. He is the God of vengeance, the God of hatred, and the God of justice. The two ends of the scale of revenge are always equal, an emperor's hatred is hate, and a commoner's hatred is not? He will not help anyone, and your plan has failed. ”

"That's not my plan." The emperor said.

He raised his left hand, and golden light quietly bloomed between his fingers. The fabric of time begins to shatter, and so does space. They were folded, catalyzed by the will of the Lord of Men, and turned into prisons, enveloping him and his enemies in it

In a corner where no one was paying attention for the time being, Leon Elzhuangsen slowly stood up on his own.

He was so badly injured that at least half of his bones had been shattered. He clenched his spear wordlessly, feeling a great sense of shame—and then he heard Ruth's voiceless words.

I told you, Leon. Ruth said with a sigh. As I said, you are no match for him, and none of us can compete with him. He's already another species, and you're going to expect a swarm of ants to defeat a giant with invulnerable skin?

I'll give it a try. The male lion said coldly. Ants bite elephants to death.

He took a stride, using his spear as a crutch, and walked toward the prison.

Whatever you want, just try, brother, it's useless to try. The Fenris calmly sarcastic.

Don't even understand what form they're fighting each other in the right place. Can you see what's going on inside the prison? Can you hear the sounds they make as they fight? Do you think that this battle is still at the level of the physical universe?

No, Leon, you see, Terra is now half a foot in subspace. And we are now in the other half of the darkness, where everything you are familiar with is only appearances and illusions, and the real battle is a level that you cannot set foot in.

The lion stopped.

Why do you know so much? He asked.

Because I'm dead. Ruth replied calmly. The dead can see things that the living can't.

Let me see it too. The lion said.

He flipped the spear over and plunged its tip into his chest. He didn't bleed or hurt, but Ruth's helpless sigh came from his ears—a real sigh.

A hand rubbed the top of his head, and there was a real touch.

"You shouldn't have done that, brother." Fenris said sadly. "Now you're going to see, but you can't understand it, you're going to go crazy."

- Really?

The lion looked firmly at the prison, and then, at last, he saw it. As Ruth said, it wasn't the battle he imagined, no clashing blades, no wounds, no blood, no roars, no battles of strength and fighting skills

So, what is it?

What words would you use to describe such a battle? No, no, can this really be called a battle?

Leon Elzhuangson's fingers began to tremble, and reason quickly evaporated. His imagination was taking the place of his reason, and only then could he continue to gaze.

Ruth was still babbling in his ear, trying to call him to his senses, but he couldn't hear anymore, and even if he could, there was no way he could respond.

His mind had sunk into it, as if a willing drowning man, defying the instinct of life to survive, and cheerfully welcoming the sea that was about to go overhead.

He saw something.

Something that is hard to describe for what it really is, a dark, tall, swollen, rotten, laughing, moaning, roaring, angry, thinking, fickle—

"Shhhhh Ruth stroked the top of his head, tears streaming from his golden eyes. "Horus."

- Yes.

It has the face of Horus.

It is gnawing at the emperor.

Leon Eljonson screamed back to the real world.

A spear was drawn and thrown at his feet. Luthor reached out forcefully to pull him up and began to examine his injuries. The lion's eyes widened, and his mind was already scattered.

He was powerless to continue thinking, he had witnessed something beyond his ability to bear—was it because his will was not strong enough? No, this is not the case, it has nothing to do with whether the will is strong or not, whether the spirit is stable or not.

And Luthor knew that as the battle between them continued, sooner or later more people would be forced to witness what Leon had just seen. It's terrible, it's brutal, and it's coming. There is no one left the royal court of Lupecar, and this is Terra.

The vengeful spirit is Terra.

An altar.

He took a deep breath, pulled the lion up, and gripped the spear with his prosthetic leg. Riemann Ruth's voice rang in his ears at this moment, too: "I thought you knew very little, Luther. ”

I wish I didn't have to know that much. Luthor responded with a wry smile.

"He'll be fine." Ruth said. "He'll get through it, and I'm sure he'll get through it."

But the question now is not whether he's awake or not, Lord Ruth. Luther said in his heart.

He sighed and put the spear into the lion's hand, his instinctively clenched, his body suddenly straightening for a moment. Luthor knew he would be safe. As Riemann Ruth said, he also believed that the lion could survive – but how many believed in the emperor?

Or, among those who know the truth, and who can glimpse it, how many people really believe that the emperor can win?

Luthor didn't know the answer, he wanted him to win, but his sanity told him that the emperor couldn't.

The Lord of Humanity's energy has been caught up in too many things, his power is limited, and he still considers himself a human being, not a god, so there is no way he can win this battle.

But he doesn't need to win either.

The Calibans silently put down Leon El Johnson and left him to stand with his spear on his shoulders. He took one last deep look at his lord and son, then turned resolutely and walked to the other end.

There wasn't just one war going on in the court, where only the gods were allowed to speak and others could still fight each other, so the tide began to collide head-on with the loyalists.

Luthor has been through many wars in his life, but he has never seen one. It's too big, it's too heavy, it's the brightest splendor a race can burst out when it's life and death.

Luthor is inspired, but he also has to face a harsh reality - how can he find the man he is looking for in this infinitely stretched front?

Just as he hesitated, a familiar voice burst into his head, impolite and eager.

+ Go ahead. +

+ Makado? +

+Onward, Luther, just go on.+

The Calibans did as they were told, and instinctively turned their heads to spot the dwarf, black-robed figure of the Palm Sealer on a hill made of demonic remains.

He stood on it, his hands clutching the scepter tightly in his hands, and he stood very weakly. Beneath the hood shone two bits of psionic light, not very bright, but enough to stab anything filthy.

Luthor knew that he was wounded—even the Palm Sealer, and even the Emperor was being defeated by the monster

Can we really win?

Or can we really drag him in? And, even if he comes

Luther took a deep breath and put it all behind her.

Mission 423, find Ur Pesson. He silently recited these words, strode forward, crashed into the whirlpool of death, unhesitating, fearful of the future, but unfathomable.

——

St. Giles gripped the World Breaker with both hands, its spikes bloodied his hands. He didn't care, he just continued to push the hammer, which was now as heavy as a mountain, and weighed on him, and although it didn't hurt him in the slightest, it made it difficult for him to move.

The angel could not tolerate this, and he had to get out of the pit - fortunately, he was never alone.

Humanity is always united.

A figure emerges from the edge of the pit, then leaps down. A pair of glittering silver arms gripped the grip of the Worldbreaker, and Ferus Manus began to exert force with blood on his face.

The second person to arrive was Fogham, who stood beside him and worked with him to try to get the hammer out of St. Giles' body.

This is no easy task, and in the past, a primordial could easily swing and propel something ten times the weight of a worldbreaker, with no effort. It's different at the moment, let alone pushing it away or lifting it, and they can't even get it to move in the slightest.

So, as if by coincidence, or perhaps someone had heard the never-given call, Robert Killiman's face crept into the edge of the pit.

He watched for a few seconds, then leaped down. The blue armor was riddled with potholes, holes, and scars. Contrasting with a pair of blazing eyes under the pale hair—but instead of trying, he spoke to his brother in a serious and earnest manner without a sound.

St. Giles stared at his lips and understood what he was trying to say from the changing shape of his mouth. Contrary to the Barr's expectations, Kiliman did not say any tactical analysis, and the sentence was actually very simple, just six words.

"Let go of your hands and let me come."

Ferus Manus and Fogham looked at each other and let go of their hands, causing their already transformed brother to put his hands on the grip of the Worldbreaker.

Immediately after, a faint but genuine voice came to their ears, a third voice, faint but real.

As the sound appeared, a picture appeared before their eyes—a furnace, burning with flames, and a thousand points of light surging endlessly. There seems to be anger and sadness, and countless emotions are integrated into it, turning into a pure force that is sincere and simple.

A burning force.

Robert Killiman's armor began to burn, and the intense heat destroyed the air and distorted the light. The Worldbreaker began to tremble, and the power of darkness and scarlet lightning suddenly reappeared, climbing up from the spikes.

The Lord of Macurag stood still, veins on his forehead bulging, his face illuminated by the glow of his eyes, and bones, veins, and nerves beneath his skin.

He let out a silent cry, the dull thud in his chest becoming more real

The Worldbreaker suddenly flew sideways.

Kiriman fell to his knees, blood cascading down the seven orifices.

Fogrem immediately lifted him up, and Ferus Manus pulled the angel up. St. Giles looked at them and had nothing to say. He clenched his fists, lowered his head and picked up the spear from the pit, and closed his eyes.

He can also use his talents.

And this time, he saw the same picture as before. He lay bloodied in the royal court, bleeding, and Karil Lohals stood beside him.

What is the necessary connection between this? St. Giles doesn't know the answer, but he will do everything he can to make it happen. He nodded to them and flapped his wings into the darkness.

At the top of the royal court, the empty eyes of the dead are staring at all this, they are not fake, but they are also spectators, and they are sacrifices. They will remain here until the flame of the altar is completely extinguished

Ur Persson gripped his guns, withdrew his gaze from staring at them, and walked forward.

(End of chapter)