If the time on his eyepiece was correct, three hours and eleven minutes had passed since the war had befallen Litatra.

Zell captures the time and silently sets up a twenty-five-hour countdown through neural connections.

At the same time, the ground suddenly began to tremble, and the streets and buildings of the second district of Litatra began to collapse as if they had been a natural disaster, cracking the earth, falling rubble, and exploding the underground pipes that carried energy

Natural disasters and man-made disasters, demons are rampant, and everything happens quietly as Horst said.

Zell understood that the situation had gotten worse, but the defenders were still fighting. His hearing was so sensitive that he was able to pick up their cries from tens of meters away, drowning in a series of disasters.

So, he stopped for a moment.

Do you want to go to support?

"Don't do that." A voice said to him. "The church needs us."

Zell didn't answer him, just disemboweling a former civilian corrupted by some force with a chainsaw sword.

His pale, swollen skin had been easily sliced open by the chainsaw sword, and instead of blood, a stinking brown liquid gurgled from beneath it.

Zell drew his sword, and the corpse fell limply to the ground, leaving a disgusting, sticky mark on the stone steps of the small square in front of the church.

A mother in a panic trampled over the corpse with her baby in her arms and ran behind Zell. The look in her eyes, which was both fearful and grateful, complicated Zell slightly.

It stands to reason that he should have prevented her from taking refuge inside the church, but he didn't, just let her go, and ran to the next group of walking corpses, cutting them all to pieces.

A long, long time ago, he had learned one thing - the power of chaos could also be harnessed, but only one could be harnessed.

That power is called Fury.

In some places, it is reverently called the wrath of the dead, the flame of despair, the wave of vengeance.

It's a sea of smoke, religious and mythical, but in the case of Conrad Coetze's son, it's just a flame. It belongs to Chaos, the direct manifestation of the power of a terrifying evil god, but it is also a natural enemy of other forces of Chaos.

There is no trace of demons or pollution that can exist in front of this force for more than five seconds, and it doesn't do much damage to the environment, it only kills the damned things.

It's a very convenient, very powerful force. There's probably only one problem.

You'll have to pay something to summon it and drive it.

However, one thing was fortunate – it was nighttime, and the priest of the church was named Khorst, so each statue of the emperor had a different image.

The civilians who survived and took refuge in it probably wouldn't understand why the Emperor had turned into a black-robed ghost who couldn't get a glimpse of his true face, but they didn't need to.

It's best for them not to understand, too.

They just need to live.

As long as they enter the church, they can live. The power of that fragment could completely cleanse them of the pollution of chaos, whether it was a terrible virus, a slowly surging desire to kill, or an untimely and terrifying desire.

All of this will be at peace. Then, at some point, that calm will evolve into something entirely new.

That's why Zell set up that countdown.

He was not expecting the 'moment of revenge' after the so-called superposition of the holy numbers, but simply a warning to himself.

He hoped to have everything done by twenty-five hours, and at least to clear a place where civilians could take refuge, or they would be forever-

Zell took a deep breath and swung his sword. Blood splattered, staining his eyepieces scarlet.

- Something the same as us. He thought.

"Don't be sentimental over there, Zell." The voice continued to sneer. "Why haven't you broken this deadly habit?"

"I'm just thinking, my lord, can't your clever mind see it?" Zell feigned a pleasant tone and sent the sarcasm back.

He's already a little helpless, that's why 'adult' is called adult, not out of respect, but because he can never stop sneering.

Or maybe it's because his name is too long.

Krostilian Taverelec is a typical aristocratic name, and it is not very friendly to the High Gothic language. For the sake of convenience, the title of Lord was pressed to death on his head.

Considering his origin, personality, and military rank, this nickname is simply tailor-made for him.

Yes, you guessed that right, every adult is actually calling him a jerk in a subtle way.

The adult smiled: "Really? My brilliant mind thinks you've been acting absent-minded. What, am I wrong? Or are you starting to struggle back and forth between duty and conscience again? Ah, the smell of weakness that emanates from your fragile humanity is ridiculous and ridiculous."

"Your mother, you've got a brilliant mind." Zell couldn't help but curse in the crowd of corpses.

Krostilian couldn't help but laugh wildly at his scolding, and he stood on the right side of the circular square, dealing with a steady stream of demons with the executioner Slor.

The line was supposed to be crumbling, but they had learned to take cover from enemy corpses many years ago. It's a simple and efficient practice that has a long history, dating back to the days when humans were throwing stones at each other on Terra.

Behind them, on the left side of the square, was 'Skull' Iharal, a fighting brother who was very obsessed with beheading powerful enemies. He's strong, but he hasn't been able to get promoted because of this, but he doesn't seem to care much.

Zell was in charge of covering the refugees, as well as picking up the scout Acapatis who could return at any time.

He's only been a Shadow Knight for thirty-two years, and he doesn't qualify for this squad by common sense, but he's incredibly talented, especially when it comes to stealth, tracking, and creating fear.

Adults even joked that he might be a bit atavistic, but this slightly insulting assessment was unexpectedly recognized by Acapatis, who began to call him Barbarian, a nickname that didn't match his personality and field of expertise.

Zell liked him very much, so he very much hoped that the savage Acapatis would return soon.

In a sense, his expectations came true. A few minutes later, with a deafening roar, their recruits suddenly fell from the sky and slammed into the center of the small square, splashing a puddle of rubble.

Thankfully, he didn't hit the running civilians.

Half a second later, his coughing could be heard in the communication channel.

"I'm fine." The barbarian said as he vomited blood. "There's a big guy coming, and I want to lure it away, but it's too fast."

"Skull!" The adults immediately roared. "Go and slaughter it with Zell! Acapatis, get up and take the place of the skull, Slor, go pick up the refugees! ”

There was no answer, only a few swift flashes of shadows, and they carried out the order as quickly as they could. Zell slowed down a bit, waiting for the skull to catch up.

In most cases, two people are much better at facing a strong opponent than one person alone. But he wanted to wait, but his enemies wouldn't.

A roar that had resounded once before flashed behind the diseased walking corpse, and a strong, massive black shadow shook the ground and rushed towards him.

Zell's pupils shrank, and he immediately dodged, but the thing was like a terrible missile with a friend or foe identification system, and it rushed in his direction without hesitation, and all the walking corpses in its path were trampled into flesh.

"Hit it in the head!"

Suddenly, the savage Acapatis chanted in the communication channel.

"I planted a bomb in its head!"

Why didn't you say something so important earlier? Zell twitched out of the corner of his eye, and immediately pulled out his blaster from his waist.

At the same time, a strong wind struck behind him, and without saying a word, Iharal passed him and charged straight towards the thing.

Judging by the size of the two alone, this is not a close battle at all.

Iharal was only two and a half meters, but the thing was at least six meters tall, his muscles were knotted, his strong limbs and entire body were covered with brass armor, only a part of his flesh was exposed, and his red skin was dripping with sweat like lava

This is a steel cow, and definitely no ordinary steel cow - where is its owner? Dead? It's better to be dead, it's better to be an ownerless steel cow.

Zell almost had a toothache, and he had seen this thing overturn the tank with his own eyes. If it crosses them

He immediately put the thought behind him and began to aim intently.

In his field of vision, Iharal had leapt to his feet in silence, clenching an antique power sword in both hands.

His opponent snarled and lowered his head, already aiming the cold gleaming horn at the point where Iharal had landed.

The Steel Bull was no stupid beast, these abominable beasts possessed a fighting instinct that transcended instinct, its small scarlet eyes stuck between the armor plates, staring at Iharal as if it had seen him die.

And Zell saw more, like the bomb that the wounded Acapatis had said.

He saw it very clearly, and it was buried on the right side of the horn, calmly and leisurely in a small hole.

You're so laid-back, little one.

Zell pulled the trigger, and the gunfire flashed.

Iharal landed heavily, his chest armor dented, but the sword in his hand was raised high, and a broken corner was at his feet.

The steel bull roared and raised its front hooves, trying to trample Iharal alive in the pain of its horn being severed, but it would never have that chance again.

A blast tore through the air and hit the bomb stuck in its head with precision.

The flames roared, and a dark shadow flashed at this moment, and Iharal galloped back without stopping, hot blood pouring out of his sunken chest

The flames continued to spread, the air was swallowed, and the sound of explosions finally rang out. It was even more terrifying than thunder, almost destroying Zell's hearing, and it took half a minute for his ears to return to normal.

Then he heard Acapatis laughing in the communication channel, and the adults cursing, "If you do this again, I'll skin you!" ”

"But I've made a difference!" The recruit argued. "Shouldn't I be promoted?! I've wanted to visit Nostramo for a long time! ”

"That's not a tour." The executioner said gloomily. "That's a patch for some of your missing responsibilities, but that's not a good thing, it's a . Chronic, can provide powerful poisons. ”

"Don't expect it to come. We should have reached a consensus on this point long ago. ”

His voice and words seemed to have a magical power, and instantly silenced Acapatis.

This is probably because Slor has killed too many people, and he has been focusing on the anti-corruption of the nest for sixty years, and has extinguished many of the world's rebellions.

The price of his exploits was a growing gloom, which had almost become a symptom, and he unconsciously began to distance himself from the crowd and study some terrible crafts day and night.

Zell didn't want to say anything about it, and even if Slor chose to go further, he wouldn't point fingers at anything - they all knew that the executioner would never cross that red line.

"Don't scare the kids, Slor." The adult said in a pleasant tone. "Okay, that thing is dead, we should think about what to do next, what do you think?"

Zell glanced in his direction, and saw that he was stepping on a corpse, whirling the power sword in his hand in a deliberate display of pride.

Zell had already guessed his purpose and what he wanted to do, so he began to follow the line: "We should get people out of the church. ”

"That's a good idea, but where to move?" The adult asked softly.

He's gone from turning his sword to swinging it, taking a life with every swing. Whatever they are, they are treated equally under his sword. His posture was so graceful that he almost looked like he was dancing a gorgeous killing waltz with the sword in his hand.

Zell frowned unbearably, and with his backhand he pulled out his blaster and fired an incendiary grenade in that direction - he really couldn't bear this noble man's style, and every time he saw it, he felt that he had trouble breathing

Then, he got a contemptuous snort.

"Is just asking a question and your fragile humanity no longer bearable, Zell?"

"I'll you." Zell said. "It shouldn't be a problem to have two justices in the church. You, Slor, and Iharal stay here and continue to defend the line. How about me and our barbarians go out and find a quiet place? ”

"I'm okay with that." Acapatis replied to his offer very quickly, and he probably couldn't wait for it.

The adult snorted, slowly walked out of the flames, and stabbed a little demon who tried to sneak up on him with a backhand sword. The thing screamed and turned to ashes, and its ugly form suddenly vanished without a trace, as if it had never existed.

"Don't forget that I'm the captain, but that's all right, Zell. I agree with your proposal, and with the plan you haven't said yet. ”

"What's the plan?" The skull, which had been silent, suddenly asked.

"What else could it be? It's just that our paladin's natural sense of justice has once again taken the initiative, and he wants to help the local defense forces."

The adult's comment was quite mean, and he even shook his head to show his disdain. Despite this, the words he said next, and the tone he used, seemed very gentle.

"Let's do what we're supposed to do, Zell." So says Krostilian Tavireletz. "Don't die, great justice, your Excellency the Paladin, very human."

"Got it, adults with smart heads." Zell said. "I really want to punch you."

Amid the laughter of the adults, Acapatis ran up to him, not forgetting to stab a few more walking corpses with his fists along the way, looking very aggressive.

Zell patted him on the shoulder, and turned into a black phantom that dissipated into the corpses and collapsed buildings, and Acapatis followed without making a sound, he was already in a state of shape.

They are all like that.

At this moment, there are twenty-two hours and twenty-seven minutes left before the twenty-five hour countdown comes.

——

Tujea took off his coat and walked to the side doorway of the church with his pistol in hand. His ears were filled with cries, shouts, and a steady stream of prayers.

To put it mildly, he felt like he was in a huge mental hospital, surrounded by all sorts of people who had gone insane after a huge blow.

So, what about him? Is he one of them?

Tujea wishes he was, but he really wasn't.

He raised his gun, pushed the trolley against the side door, and pulled it away.

A frightened woman rushed in with a child in her arms, followed by several men dressed as workers, who crawled into the church in complete succession, making the already crowded chapel even narrower.

Tujea felt that it would probably not be long before there would be no place for even a shadow here.

He pushed the trolley back, closed the side door, and began to walk back. The gun in his hand was never put down, and it was always held high.

Rather than a standby position ready to shoot, it looks more like a deliberate deterrent. Tujea wasn't sure if there would be a riot inside the church in the near future, but he would do everything in his power to stop it.

He walked under the pulpit and looked at the pale man lying on it. The person is undergoing a simple, unanesthetic suture procedure.

He thought that the surgeon was a well-known but very low-key priest, but Tujea knew that the priest named Horst was actually a butcher who was proficient in slaughtering humans.

He watched as the butcher stitched the needle and thread with his hands, which had no trace of holding a knife at all, and stitched up a dangerous laceration on his abdomen

It is not an exaggeration to praise him for his excellent medical skills, the only problem is that the patient is dying of pain, and the doctor is completely too lazy to pay attention.

After wrapping the bandage, Horst pulled the man up and gently pushed him aside. Immediately afterward, the next patient consciously lay down.

The wound was in his right arm, which looked like it had been hit by some kind of weight, and the broken bone had pierced through the middle of the elbow, and the tendons were tensily wound around it, which looked even more terrifying.

Tujea frowned, and he asked in a low voice, "Do you need to hold him?" ”

"No, I don't." Horst said.

His voice sounded very firm, even a little eeriely determined.

Immediately afterward, the investigators saw the determined priest remove a silver statue of the emperor from his neck, not the usual statue of imperial mercy, but a majestic face with angry eyes.

The priest reached out to hold it, lowered his head, and began to pray in a soft voice.

Looking at this scene, Tujea's face twitched violently - he really didn't expect Horst to start praying, but what he didn't expect was that the priest's prayer actually succeeded.

A burst of golden light poured down from the gap between the priest's right fingers clenching it, drifting over the severed hand. In a flash of light, his arm was restored to its original state.

The man jumped up from the knocked pulpit in disbelief and fell to his knees, tears streaming down his dirty face. He began to praise the emperor's gifts loudly and reverently, treating the priest as nothing.

Horst ignored him, just stood up and looked around. After confirming that there were no more injuries to be treated, he walked into his back room with a gloomy face.

Tujea followed, followed him inside, and pulled a knife out of his waist.

"Give it back to you." Tujea said. "I'm fine now, you need them more than I do."

"Nope." Horst expressed his refusal without looking back.

He raised his hands, took off his black robe, and instead picked up a white priest's robe that hung from a coat rack and put it on.

Tujea couldn't help but wipe his forehead, he really couldn't turn a blind eye to such a thing - it was really weird and blasphemous, how could a priest of the Emperor worship another god at the same time?

Doesn't the God Emperor have an opinion on this?

Even if He didn't, what about another God? He doesn't have an opinion either?

"Keep it." Horst turned around and said. "That knife will keep you sane for the most part, and for people like us, staying sane is more important than anything else."

"A vengeant who has lost his consciousness is a dangerous and out-of-control beast, and you will not be able to refuse the offers of the unjusted souls, and you will become a machine driven by the vain, so hold on to it and start learning to wield the sword, Tujea."

The investigator was silent for a moment, and then suddenly asked, "Are you giving your last words?" ”

The priest smiled, not only not angry, but even nodded in a thoughtful manner.

"You can understand it that way, I don't think I can survive this war."

"Why?"

Horst didn't answer the question, just smiled mysteriously.

He seemed to have changed back to the gentle priest he was, rather than a grim-faced, unsmiling terrible butcher. Of course, you'll have to ignore the blood on his hands to make this statement.

Tujea was in a trance, and then realized that Horst's hands were covered in blood.

During the horrific massacre that night, his hands were not stained with blood.

"What are you going to do?" Unconsciously, Tudjea's instinct preempted his sanity to ask the question.

"I'm going to protect my church." The priest said softly. "That's my answer, Tujea. But you've asked me so many questions, can I ask you one question as well? ”

Tujea nodded.

"Do you believe in miracles?" The pastor asked.

Tujea stepped back, leaned against the small door of the back room, felt the prayers of the people becoming more and more uniform, shook his head slowly, and then nodded again.

"If it had been half a month ago, I could have said I didn't believe it. I believe in the Emperor, but I don't believe in miracles, because I've never seen them. Even around those who need it most, I have never seen a miracle happen. ”

"The good will only be oppressed, but those who abandon morality can live more freely. If a person is born a bad seed, he can enjoy himself in the nest capital while laughing at those who obey the law and try to survive, but now, I'm not sure. ”

Tujea gripped the knife tightly and slowly lifted it up.

"Which god do you believe in, Horst? Why did He perform miracles at will? ”

"Didn't the Emperor give us His mercy?" The pastor asked rhetorically. "Shouldn't you and I thank Him for His sacrifice for the continuation of our lives? If it weren't for Him, this conversation between us wouldn't have happened at all. ”

"As for the other deity you're talking about. In fact, you already know the answer in your heart. His power is so simple and straightforward that He will never hide Himself. Revenge is revenge, and there is no need to whitewash it with any words. Revenge is a brutal and bloody murder. ”

"So, it's revenge. The gods? Tujea muttered the title, only to receive a smile from Horst, a smile that was so wonderful that it was impossible to fathom what he meant.

"Most of the time, He is the God of Vengeance. But in a little while, He will become Him again, and He will come back to us, Tujea. You'll see that. The pastor said firmly.

He walked over to the small door, pushed Tujea open with a gentle but undisobedient force, and shoved something heavy into his hand.

Tujea didn't care to look at it, so he was about to leave with him, but the wooden door suddenly disappeared in front of him. The investigator's eyes widened in disbelief, and at the same time, the priest's voice rang out in his ears.

"A little trick, stay inside, Tujea. If things do come to the point of no return. Alas, in short, protect it. ”

What to protect?

Tujea looked down in confusion and saw a black shard he had seen before.

At this moment, he stumbled and fell into the abyss.

He saw a pair of eyes that were completely dark.

(End of chapter)