Hatred filled Zel's heart little by little.

It was supposed to be his help, burning in his chest to help him through the difficult time before him, but Zell refused its help.

No, no. At least not yet. He admonished himself.

The 'Paladin' frowned, forcing himself to regain his composure with the emotional control skills he had developed. He was in ruins, with corpses on all sides.

Some were civilians, some were local defense soldiers in Litatra, and only a few were the weak demons that Zell had killed.

The great forces of the demon tide have already gone to other places to wreak havoc and slaughter, but all the lifeless who have the slightest pursuit are hungry for fresh flesh and blood, and only these demons who are weak enough to even be excluded will choose to torture the corpses.

Their lives as lifeless beings were so miserable that Zell stepped in to help them be freed.

With the Shadow Knights' signature silence, he swung his sword to slash the beasts to pieces, and as the demons' blasphemy was halted by his sword, the devastated ruins found a rare calm.

But that's just the beginning, Zell still has a lot to do and a lot of demons to kill.

He was well aware of this and worried. It's just that the other person who came with him didn't seem to think so.

Acapatis looked intently into the distance and spoke softly, gushing about his analysis.

"Most of the remaining garrisons have retreated to their barracks and underground fortresses, and as long as their commander is not an idiot, he will give this order. Maybe we should look out from a high vantage point, Zell. ”

"When you say 'we', you mean only you." Zell replied with a sneer. "You'd better throw this thought out of your head, Acapatis."

"Why?"

"Because it's simply not realistic, do you know how many demons are circling back and forth in the sky right now? If you are discovered, you will surely die. ”

Acapatis was silent for a few seconds, and instead of choosing to be quiet, he began his 'argument' again.

"So what else to do? Do you just follow those demons and keep going? We've been out of the church for two hours, and the clock is ticking, so let me go, Zel. ”

He looked back expectantly and patted Zell on the shoulder. There was no need to take off his helmet, and Zell knew that Acapatis was probably expecting it now.

This did not give him any relief or anything like that, but only an urge to sigh - the savage's persistence reminded him of his former self.

It seems that every recruit is like this, and his mentality has not been completely detached from the influence of the two identities of 'trainee' and 'junior'.

Their stubbornness and willingness to take on difficult tasks is not motivated by a desire for honor, nor by any reason by a genuine understanding of their duties.

Acapatis, for example, did this, probably for most of the reason, simply because he wanted to prove that his mindset was no different from chronic poison.

"Nope." Zell replied coldly, without the slightest emotion.

"Why?"

"Because it doesn't work."

Zell threw down the words and stepped out of the ruins.

He didn't want to talk to Acapatis, and if it were on weekdays, maybe he would be interested in this pastime, but not now.

He's not an 'adult' kind of bastard either, and likes to use words and truth to uncover the scars in other people's hearts, watching them bleed and laughing out loud.

Zell's attitude made the barbarian a little stunned, obviously not expecting him to do this. But he quickly adjusted his mindset and followed.

This is one of the best qualities in Acapatis – he may be briefly affected by emotions, but he always knows what he should do.

In this way, they began to stealth one after the other, and the training and genetics of the past allowed them to successfully walk down the broken streets stained red with blood.

Unfortunately, as far as the eye can see, there are corpses, and there are no survivors.

Litatra was a stable world throughout the empire, and despite the pervasiveness of oppression and corruption, at least the living had something to eat and not starved to death.

And now, all of that stuff is gone.

Civilians were dragged out of their homes, clawed open to their chests and abdomen, manipulated to death by demons in great pain and fear, and mocked by demons for their faith.

Most of them don't even know why they are in such a bad fate.

Zell's chest was filled with anger again, but it was fleeting. Reason roared with the meaning of duty, shattering the anger.

Therefore, what he did next had nothing to do with the word 'venting anger'.

He pulled out the torchbearer and began to run. Acapatis followed and picked up his gun as well. Like two ghosts, they floated over the lifeless ruins, and galloped towards the demon tide.

But they don't commit the holy murder right now. They will do that, but never now.

The reason why they want to leave behind the tactical superiority of the enemy is only because they hear the sound of cannons and guns coming from the front of the demon tide, and the war concerto created by humanity is playing loudly on the blood-stained and shattered Litatra.

Corpses and blood are its notes, cannons with blazing muzzles are the instruments to be played. The demons are not spectators, but just another instrument. A group of 'musicians' are blasting at these blasphemous lifeless people with their instruments.

It was only at this time that Zell realized that he was probably underestimating Litatra's garrison. Despite the suddenness of the attack, they had entered a state of utter war, and could now even rely on a fortress to fight the demons for the time being.

Zell unconsciously narrowed his eyes, using this habit he had learned from someone to observe the enemy.

The eyepiece's built-in zoom function easily helped him see through the flesh mill full of ghosts and ghosts, and saw a gray fortress that was struggling to hold on.

A fist clenched stubbornly on the steel wall, blood-red sand escaping between its fingers, accumulating into a pool of blood-red.

Zell glanced at it, and felt a strange familiarity. Even though he began to search his mind for evidence of a possible connection, he quickly found this mark from a few words in a military department recruitment manual that he had read more than ten years ago.

In his memory, he was back in the bloody room, having just finished killing sixteen traitors, and was sitting next to their corpses flipping through the books on the shelves

"Son of the Red Sands." As he ran, Zell spoke solemnly. "Originally from Nukeria, he served as an auxiliary for the war hounds throughout the Great Expedition. became independent after the promulgation of the Holy Scriptures and became an independent army"

"No wonder they're so brave." Acapatis said with a little admiration.

Zell agreed, but he didn't put it into words.

He didn't have time to do this for the time being, and at this moment, his precious attention had been shifted to the back of the demon tide.

It wasn't far from them, and the number of demons was relatively small, and there were only a few fears of demons. In the midst of them, a bird-beaked demon with a staff was shaking its staff, glowing blue at its feet.

It wasn't one of those powerful so-called Changeling Demon Lords, but it wasn't a low-level demon either, Zell realized this, but he didn't bother to care what its identity was, his heart was now full of killing intent.

Yago Sevitalyon is quite right in saying that if you find demons that belong to Tzeentch on the battlefield, remember, prioritize them.

Zell raised his left hand and threw the torchbearer to Acapatis. The Scout caught it with a slight astonishment, and before he could say anything, he heard Zell's order.

"Cover me with fire, retreat after the fight, don't fall in love with the battle, enter the fortress from the rear."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to kill it." Zell said.

With that, he began to charge with all his might. Before Acapatis could express his opposition to this hell-not-seeing so-called 'plan', he watched Zell rush into the demon tide.

The barbarian couldn't help but let out a curse, but immediately raised the torchbearer. He hit it very accurately, and every bomb was effective. Maybe it's because the torchbearer is better than his gun, or maybe it's just because he's focused to the extreme.

Zell naturally didn't know anything about his thoughts, but even if he did, I'm afraid he wouldn't have paid attention to them.

He had already put all his mind on this crude killing plan, and he no longer even cared if it was just a trap. Dealing with these nightmare birds from subspace, pure violence is much more effective than a clear mind.

He began to kill with unusual concentration.

Conrad Coetze's offspring seem to have been born with a terrifying, dark preoccupation that can burst into brilliance in how they wield their blades if they so desire.

Zell was no exception at this moment, he kept moving forward, and under the sword's point, the dreadens fell one after another. The pink one becomes two blue ones, and the blue ones dissipate in the flames

Their croaking screams quickly caught the attention of the Tzeentch demon who was casting a spell. It eerily stretched out its head, then turned upside down, looking at Zell at a completely opposite angle.

It hissed unpleasantly, and the staff in its hand shook suddenly, and a glow of light shot straight from its top. Zell dodged it with extraordinary reflexes, and hot lava erupted from where he had just stood, quickly spreading to the surrounding monsters, burning their bones to nothing.

This incident made the Tzeentch demon look extremely annoyed, and Acapatis, who was not far away, couldn't help but laugh mockingly—what? Didn't you anticipate this in your plan?

He moved his arm, aimed at the staff that was starting to shine again, and pulled the trigger hard. The torchbearer's mech seemed to sense his killing intent, and the gunfire flashed, but the barbarian was shaken back two steps by the huge recoil that came from nowhere.

He clearly saw a flash of black flame flash through the muzzle of the gun, pushing the explosive bullet to break the staff with unmistakable precision, and the four subsequent bursts of fire were directly embedded in the demon's body.

The flames burned, it roared in pain, its feathers fluttering, screaming and ordering the dreadnobs to stop Zell - but where could they stop him? The truly powerful demons have already rushed to the forefront of the demon tide.

Zell rushed forward, sliding as if he were sliding for the final charge of the assault. None of the attacks of the dreadnouges hit, but he slashed a lot in the middle of his madness.

Seeing that the situation was not right, they actually began to flee, scattering away from the Tzeentch demon that they had been guarding before. At this moment, there was no longer any obstacle between Zell and it.

The 'Paladin' raised his sword and slashed it cleanly, not even forgetting to pull out a silver Aquila sigil from a compartment around his waist and throw it at its corpse.

With the hissing of melting flesh and blood, the assault was over, and the assault didn't even last half a minute. Until this moment, most of the demons in the Demon Tide were still unaware of what was happening behind them.

But even if they knew, they probably wouldn't care much.

They can join forces briefly, but their chaotic nature excites each death. What's more, most of the demons in this demon army are from the realm of the Blood God, and if there is no fortress in front of them, I'm afraid that the first thing they will kill is the servants of the Lord of All Changes

Taking advantage of the confusion, Zell quickly returned to Acapatis, and the Scout immediately returned his gun, but with both hands.

Zell glanced at him strangely, reached out and took the gun, but said nothing.

He did see the bullets wrapped in flames, which was another testament to Acapatis' talent, but there was another problem.

Acapatis has not yet been allowed to return to Nostramo, which means he should not have been so casual in invoking the power that belongs exclusively to the realm of revenge.

Zell pondered the question, was silent for half a second, and suddenly a thunderclap flashed in his mind.

Holy Spirit Month.

The word caused more thunder.

How long has this month-long festival existed? That piece of shard.

I see, if so, then it all makes sense.

But if so, isn't the twenty-five hour countdown a waste?

Zell instinctively clenched the torchbearer, and the gun was half a beat slower when he hung the gun back on the belt at his waist. At the critical moment, it was his training that played a role.

The genetically modified supernatural physique was completely mastered by the calm will brought about by the day and night training, and Zell raised his hand and grabbed Acapatis by the hand: "I need you to go back." ”

"What? Right now? ”

"Yes, right now, as fast as you can." Zell said solemnly. "Go back and tell Captain Crostilian that the resurgence of the fragments has something to do with the Holy Spirit Month, and then ask him to evacuate all the civilians in the church!"

His serious tone startled the Scout, and he subconsciously had to follow his orders, but he had some doubts after all.

"But. . . So where can they go? ”

"You can go anywhere, but you can't let them stay in church!"

Zell let out a rare growl, and the words he uttered were very different from what he had thought before, however, for a reason. The next thing he said made Acapatis shudder.

"Unless you want to see a horde of fanatical believers impregnated with sanity, wielding blades to spread the spiral of hatred throughout Litatra.!"

The recruit didn't say a word, turned around and ran, his forehead already covered with fine cold sweat. Zell never lied, and there was no need to lie to him to deceive him. What's more, he had just seen the Flame of Fury spawn with his own eyes.

He knew how many pounds and taels he had.

He ran wildly, the breathing grille helping him filter out many strange scents, but still a few of them entered his nostrils, and the evil mixture of scents gave him the illusion of almost suffocation.

Acapatis immediately became vigilant, which could make him uncomfortable, and it was still when the helmet was filtered in advance. What's the difference between this and poison gas? How could a normal burning ruin produce such an odor?

He immediately stopped running, dodged between the rubble and fell into a stealth stance.

This vigilance was justified in just a minute, when a swamp appeared on his way back to the second district of Litatra.

Dark green and tawny are mixed together, making it as disgusting as the biogas digesters still in use beneath some ancient nests. Some indescribable Nurgle was dragging the corpses of civilians and throwing them into them. The corpse quickly sank, leaving only a few bubbles to emerge.

Acapatis' breathing slowed, his expression becoming a little ugly, and he was torn between killing and finding another way. In the end, it was the word Spiral of Hatred that prevailed and forced him to pull the trigger finger away.

At that moment, a buzzing fly landed above the masonry wall where he was hiding.

It rubbed its forelimbs, and a glow of emerald green light lit up in its disgusting compound eyes, and then the tiny creature began to swell.

Acapatis didn't hesitate for a moment, and left with a vertical jump. However, a screech descended on the ruins along with the fly's explosion, and the sound was incessant, immediately attracting the attention of the Nurgle spirits.

Acapatis cursed, annoyed at his own indiscretion, but also puzzled by how a fly had found himself

He no longer hesitated, put his previous plan behind him, and ran wildly towards the swamp. The Nurgle spirits did not stop him, but instead screamed and jumped into the swamp.

Acapatis thought they were afraid of themselves, but they didn't expect that the foul-smelling swamp suddenly began to erupt, and the rotting corpses gushed out of it, flying into the sky with brown sap and countless maggots

In the midst of this scalp-tinging disgusting spectacle, a huge, bloated, fat figure slowly stood up. Its fat was layered on top of each other, and its turquoise skin looked so smooth that there were no blisters or abscesses or anything like that.

It has a twisted horn on the top of its head, and underneath it are two eyes that are barely visible, and a mouth that is frighteningly large. As soon as it appeared, it sneezed, and many Nurgle spirits flew out of it, and then it was caught by its own cheerful outstretched hands.

Acapatis then saw it lift the fat from its belly, exposing a larger cracked mouth.

The Nurgle spirits laughed and jumped into it, but the barbarians' faces began to twitch.

He was finally beginning to understand why the Warband was so disgusted with enemies like Nurgle.

The demon turned around with a grin, and clumsily crawled out of the cavernous pit.

Acapatis could not see its fat eyes, but he could feel that it was staring at him, and he immediately raised his gun and opened fire, but the bomb sank into its fat and did not move. There wasn't even half a bullet hole left on the smooth skin.

The demon lazily scratched his body, opened his bloody mouth, and greeted Acapatis.

"Hello, contractor who has made an oath of vengeance. Ah, wait, you seem young. ”

It shook its head regretfully, "It's a shame. ”

What a pity? Acapatis angrily pulled two frag grenades from his belt and threw them at it, but the demon didn't dodge it, but only yawned.

The fat on its belly stretched out along its body, and a long, sticky tongue like intestines ejected from its terrifying canyon-like mouth, and in mid-air, it rolled two grenades back into its mouth and swallowed them in one hand.

With a dull sound, the demon smiled and patted his stomach, looking very satisfied. Acapatis looked at it in disbelief, and for a moment he didn't even know whether to keep firing or not.

The demon had no such concerns, and spoke mildly—even politely—"Actually, I think we can keep him for a while." ”

Who is it talking to?

Acapatis turned sharply and saw a face covered with scriptures, and then there was a piercing pain.

He fell to the ground, feeling so weak as never in his life. He seems to have been stabbed by something, but what the hell is that thing? Why did it penetrate his armor so easily, and even let his body

Yes.

Acapatis opened his lips trembling, his eyes beginning to blur.

The demon walked over regretfully, making the ground tremble with every step. It stopped in front of Acapatis, shook its head, and said, "I don't think you need to do this, what threat can he have?" Why don't we keep him? ”

"Why are you so obsessed with leaving a new soldier, Lord Dolor?"

"Because at least he didn't kill my flies." The demon known as Dolor grunted in reply. "He's obviously a kind guy, don't you think so?"

The person it was talking to was visibly amused by the remark: "Well, it's me who is wrong. Next time, I'll pay attention. What do you think, Lord Dolor? ”

"I think so." The demon smiled and grabbed Acapatis, who was not yet dead.

Its power was so great that the recruits could hear their bones shattering. He almost had the illusion that he was a fruit being pinched.

The recruit couldn't help but vomit a mouthful of blood, spraying all over the helmet. The pain helped him at this time, clearing his consciousness for a moment.

He looked up and followed his instinct to see the man who had stabbed him.

He could see the smiling face engraved with scripture inscribed on it.

Acapatis opened his lips trembling, wanting to curse, or at least say something.

But he couldn't do it, because the demon was pulling at his helmet, and the action was so clumsy that it almost ripped his head off all along with it. He couldn't help but gasp, and finally, it was the man who spoke.

"Would you mind asking me to help you, Your Excellency?"

The demon nodded immediately and handed out his right hand. The man stretched out his hands from the wide priest's robes, easily found the clasp of Acapatis' helmet, and removed it.

He still smiled, meeting Acapatis' hateful gaze.

"Keep hating, recruit." He said. "It's not going to be of any use anyway, you're too young to even make a contract yet."

He chuckled, and waved at Acapatis—or rather, at the demon.

In the next second, with a strong sense of weightlessness, Acapatis could no longer see him.

Is that all?

At the end of his life, Acapatis couldn't help but ask this question.

Is that all? My life. I haven't been able to accomplish anything, I haven't sent the news back to my lords, me

Another pain came down, and this time, it didn't help Acapatis. All thoughts came to an abrupt halt, and only one last thought remained.

'Damn Chaos, if there's communication'

Erebus stared at his pale face, smiled with satisfaction, and stepped forward.

The demon Dolor followed, the corpse in its hands, chest and abdomen dissected, and dense eggs being poured into it.

Erebus knew what it was going to do, and the newly promoted Great Impurity was very generous, even giving great blessings to some mortals who could see it. It was evident that it liked the recruit very much, and so it intended to give him a little paternal mercy after his death.

It's so kind. The Dark Apostle couldn't help but let out a chuckle and slowly walked towards a church.

Behind him, darkness swept in, and demons stood in it.

——

Staring at all this in front of him, the 'Adult' felt a headache for the first time.

Slor stood beside him, and the executioner's normally gloomy face was now even more terrifying, as if he was being slammed in the stomach with both hands.

Iharal was calm, but he was always calm, and he had problems with his facial nerves, and he couldn't show obvious emotions at all.

Judging from the twitching corners of his eyes, Crostilion knew that the skull was probably not in a good mood either.

It's normal, it's just too normal. Who can keep a good mood in the face of a spiral of hatred that is beginning to take shape? I'm afraid even the god of vengeance himself can't laugh.

Crostilian secretly slandered these things, but cleaned up the superficial emotions.

He began to give orders: "Slor, go find Horst in the church." Iharal, you and I, these people we need to calm them down. ”

As soon as this sentence came out, he himself even wanted to laugh - calm? How calm? The chains of hatred have linked them to each other completely, and if you don't believe me, look at the woman who is punching and kicking her child.

The love for his own flesh and blood in the past has completely disappeared, and all kinds of complaints on weekdays have exploded at this moment, and finally turned into a genuine distorted killing intent.

She was just a silhouette, and only the softest of all the people who took refuge in the church. As for the others, most of them were already covered in blood and had completed their first revenge.

Soon, they will begin to kill each other until the last person alive is decided.

No matter how badly the person had been wounded, the hatred would sustain him to the next place where there were still humans, and then spread the hatred.

At that time, he doesn't even need to kill, just appearing can turn the soldiers who fought side by side for a second into two enemies who will never stop without killing each other.

"Understood." Iharal replied angrily, and Krotilian rushed towards the civilians who were killing each other.

The way they give calm is actually very simple, for example, punching the spine, rotating the neck, beating the heart. There is no other way, this is the only way.

But even if all civilians are calmed down, it doesn't mean that this matter can end there. The spiral of hatred is still there, and it will spread to Crostilian and Iharal, but they have sworn an oath, so they can bear it.

In other words, they will live with blood, sin, and hatred of others until the final day comes.

Slor watched them into the crowd before taking a step and rushing into the church. As he expected, there was blood all over the place, statues of the emperor were staggered, and a dozen corpses had turned the church into a slaughterhouse.

Priest Horst knelt in the middle of the corpse, calmly taking a deep breath, his white robe stained with blood.

Slor raised his gun.

"Horst." He asked coldly. "Are you okay?"

"Nope." The priest reluctantly replied, spitting out only a single syllable.

His situation didn't need to be elaborated on, and Slor withdrew his gaze and began to move closer to him, but the gun was always aimed at Horst's head.

Little by little, the executioner approached the priest, and eventually, he put his gun to the back of his head and whispered a Nostramo phrase.

Horst spurted out a mouthful of blood, and he shuddered and turned around, falling like a wounded beast at Small's feet, convulsing.

The avenger's eyes were no longer clear, replaced by a frenzied terrifying killing intent, and even Slor sensed a hint of threat.

He knew why, people who seek justice will gain some unique abilities over the years of their 'careers', the most common of which is the strengthening of physical fitness.

The avenger on Nostramo has even been able to compete with Astarte in terms of strength. Horst is naturally far inferior but.

Slore lowered his head and looked at a sharp knife in his hand. He stepped on it with such force that it shattered Horst's fingers holding the knife. In this regard, the priest only snorted bitterly, without any dissatisfaction, and even breathed a sigh of relief.

"What about the shards?" Sloll asked.

Horst shook his head weakly, his face bruised: "I leave it to my successor, and he won't show up until it's all over." ”

Slor nodded slightly, and then asked another question: "Why did the moment of vendetta come so early?" ”

Horst laughed, blood gushing out of his throat: "Because I must protect the avenger Tujea, he cannot die." ”

Slor was silent for half a second and asked, "What do you mean?" ”

"I removed the forces of faith that kept the church in balance and used them to strengthen the door of the back room. That door won't open until the power of chaos fades, it's already a small Imperial Sanctuary."

Horst curled up as he vomited blood.

"Why?" The executioner asked emotionlessly.

"Because I saw it all." Horst said. "I told Zell, but he said it was just an illusion, but I haven't said a word yet, I don't just see Litatra in flames, I see Erebas."

The executioner's eyes narrowed slowly.

And now, the first half of that vision has come true. And what about the second half, Slor? Horst asked, coughing, grabbing the executioner's iron boot bulge with his left hand.

"I don't have a talent for prophecy, but if you agree, I'm half a Shadow Knight. We only see a prophecy once in our lifetime, and it will come true. So, Erebus will definitely come. He's coming for the shards, how are we going to stop him? ”

He laughed miserably and let go of his hand, and collapsed limply to the ground, tears running across his blood-covered face, dripping to the ground and shattering.

Silore silently let go of his foot and kicked the knife away.

"I don't know if you're right or wrong, but you've sinned, Horst. Have you ever wondered—"

"—he's already here." The priest said stubbornly, his eyes blood-red.

He slowly stood up, saliva dripping and blood mixed with the veins of his face, looking more like a mad beast than a human.

Sloll frowned, and the gun he had just put down raised again.

"Explain." He said succinctly.

"He's here!" Horst roared. "I can perceive, I can feel his approach!"

He suddenly covered his forehead in a frenzy, burst into tears, and screamed as if he had lost his mind. Sloll wanted to stun him temporarily and take him out to discuss countermeasures, but suddenly felt a nameless fire.

At first it was just a flame, and then, in a single moment that cannot be called time, it began to burn rapidly, until it became a terrifying flame that nearly burned Sloll to death.

Countless voices sounded in his ears, not hallucinations, definitely not hallucinations, they were countless times more terrifying than hallucinations. They are the accusations and curses of every victim of the past 10,000 years, and the last screams or words before they die

They were primers that helped Slor's skin burn and helped him slowly let go of his grip on the gun.

The blaster fell to the ground with a thud, and the sound it made was like thunder. The man who had once been Horst Ndro laughed wildly at the roar of thunder, picked up his sharp knife, transformed into a terrible monster that was half human, half beast, and rushed out of the church door in a hurry.

Inside the church, the statue of the emperor watched all this with pity, and Qi Qi began to cry blood.

Seeing this, Slor bent down wordlessly and let out a roar that could no longer be bearable, and black flames swept in, engulfing him completely.

Will anyone remember him? Will anyone remember that there was once a Shadow Knight named Slor who existed in this world?

In the distant darkness, a lonely man pronounced his name. He remembered him and even knew why he died.

He was grieved.

(End of chapter)