If a person were placed in the deepest abyss for twenty years, what would happen to him?

There was no food, no water, no creatures to talk to, just silence and hopeless darkness. It won't die, but it won't live either.

The so-called sense of being alive is completely deprived of the moment you step into this prison, and all that is left is a memory that is destined to slowly become blurred, like the wind and sand in your hands that cannot be grasped.

Perhaps, the strong-willed will can survive this hellish twenty years.

Willpower aside, the hope of leaving alone is enough to give many people courage and hope out of thin air, both of which can bring people back to life and keep those who should have died alive for a short period of time.

What's more, the human race will never lack brave people.

But what if the 20-year sentence was extended to 100 years, 1,000 years, 10,000 years, or even infinite years of reincarnation?

If one second becomes 10,000 years, and the sentence is extended to the end of time, how many people can get out of such a prison in their entirety without any changes?

The answer is, no.

Not even Karil Lohals is by no means included.

So as he put his hand on the push of the wooden door, the sky was stained crimson as the smell of blood, gunsmoke, and burning poured from the air into his lungs, as bombs whizzed by, demons roared, and the sky was stained crimson

All this came to his face, but he slowly showed a smile. The smile was very different from when he faced Conrad Coetzes.

With this terrifying smile, he strode out of the wooden door, ignoring everything else, whether it was a frantically twitching, shaking cloak, or an unconscious man.

A second later, when the soles of his feet touched the shattered tiles of the church, the wooden door slowly collapsed.

It didn't make much noise, it didn't even make much smoke, at least, at this moment, not many people noticed this man in this crazy battlefield.

No one saw his pale face and dark eyes, no one paid attention to his nervous fingers twitching in the sleeves of his hands.

Unbeknownst to them, two diametrically opposed thoughts were colliding in the man's mind, and he realized his madness, but he was willing to do it.

Crazy. It's finally possible to unload everything and embrace it.

What could be better than that?

Karil Lohals looked up at the battlefield, then bent down and picked up a stone.

He clutched it tightly in his hand, ignoring his cut palm, and even raised his hand with a little pleasure, smearing blood all over his face.

He licked the corners of his lips, savoring the first taste of this endless cycle.

He began to laugh silently, and a dull red appeared in his eyes, completely replacing the darkness of his iris.

The sea of madness had completely submerged him, and his former will had been turned away, leaving only pure and primitive instincts. His reason is still struggling, but it is no longer possible to win, at least not yet.

There is a limit to the despair that a human can bear, and if they exceed that limit, they will go crazy.

Carlil ran forward, clutching the stone.

In the first few seconds of running, his posture was clumsy, as if he had never run before. His knees were straight, his hands were not swinging, he didn't know how to unload, he didn't know how to bend over, and he forgot how to breathe.

It wasn't until the feeling of suffocation from the lack of oxygen came up his throat that he realized all this. And so, these things returned to his body as a matter of course, and a beast that had never been truly released finally broke free from its cage at this moment.

He ran, his long hair fluttering in the wind. The skin of the face is tense and tightly clings to the face, the cheeks are sunken, thin and sickly, and the sharp canines are fully visible in the thin and bloodless lips.

He was laughing.

He was laughing extremely ugly, extremely madly.

As if gliding, he quickly approached a tall giant with his back to him.

The man was dressed in a white robe, and his skin was covered with golden scriptures. He was fighting a demon, and the two were inseparable, and the bloodthirsty madness and puppet-like numbness were unusually evenly matched in this battle.

However, neither he nor the demon were aware of Carlil's approach. It wasn't until a stone smashed open the giant's forehead that they realized that a third person had appeared in the battle.

No, maybe not people.

The demon couldn't have been more visibly stunned, it wasn't easy to show such anthropomorphic emotions on its terrifying head. It doesn't matter, though, because no one cares.

At least the third man who squeezed into their battle didn't care, he was busy swinging the stone and smashing the giant's head with it.

The golden-skinned giant's god-like face was soon covered in his own blood, and he tried to stand up, but the man pressed against him, laughing hysterically as he continued to swing the stone.

His attacks were so unremarkable that they didn't even look powerful. The size gap between him and the giant was even more incomprehensible, but he smashed the giant's skull open with the stone, and even immobilized him with one hand.

Blood splattered, skulls shattered, and the man smiled and stretched out his left hand, waving his hand breathlessly, pulling out a clump of pink brain. He held it in front of him and looked at it closely, his demeanor so strange that he almost wondered if he would open his mouth to eat it

But he didn't do it, he just folded his five fingers, crushed it completely, turned it, into them. The slippery soft tissue slipped easily between the fingers, and the dust fell without making a sound, and the giant's shattered head touched the ground.

At this moment, the battlefield that was still in full swing a second ago suddenly quieted down. Whether it was the demons, or some other giants who had just left the airborne chamber and were transforming into demons, they all stared blankly at this.

Carlil Lohals laughed tremblingly and slowly stood up.

He twitched and turned his head, his eyes frantically rolling in his sockets with bloodthirsty longing and terrifying hunger, unfocused, but always maintained an eerie concentration.

This concentration led him to find a man who was pinching the teleportation spell, dressed in the robes that only priests wear, and his forehead was already covered with fine beads of sweat.

He had apparently noticed the frantic gaze as well, and the finger that had already been bent flicked away in the next second, and a burst of primordial and pure energy descended from the subspace, bombarding it with precision where Carlil Lohals stood.

The shock wave swept by, destroying the remains of the church and a burst of laughter escaping in the scattered smoke and dust.

A dark shadow smashed through the smoke and screamed, ridiculously and absurdly rushing at the former bearer named Erebas.

At this very moment, it was as if the traitor to the Bearers and the common human beings was going through a terrible muscle spasm in the face.

He didn't dare to relax in the slightest, his robe swayed, and thousands of pale blue souls roared out of his robe like points of light, forced to arch around him, forming an evil shield.

It is not made up of magic alone, but of a combination of extremely complex knowledge and rituals, each point of light representing the soul of a sufferer. Only by killing them once and for all can this shield be completely broken.

Erebus pondered for two centuries to create this spell, and the shield has served a great role in many battles with the Nightblades in the past.

He pinpointed the loopholes in their oaths and immediately persecuted them with innocent souls. It allowed him to maintain the upper hand in the face of them, and even if he was outnumbered, he could rely on the shield's peculiarity to cast a teleportation spell and leave immediately

Now, however, this useful spell must face one of the most serious problems since its inception.

It has to face Karil Lohals.

The result was clear, and with the sound of the shield shattering, Erebus rolled and crawled away from the place in embarrassment to the screams of the dead, and his heart was filled with anger - the vengeful gods ignored the unjust spirits? How is this possible? What's going on?

No. It can't go on like this. He gritted his teeth, forced himself to snatch a path out of his mind that was being overrun by fear, and stepped firmly on it.

With his hands folded, Erebath swept the spirits of the victims of Litatra with his psionic energy in his hands, and an unprecedented set of shields took shape in an instant. At the same time, a magic circle also vaguely emerged from the bottom of his feet.

This is a very powerful expulsion spell, and the Dark Apostle has even used it to banish those famous demons from the Blood God Realm. Even their fury could not be compared to this formation that pointed directly at the foundation of the demon's existence in this world.

The material realm is the material realm after all, not a subspace that belongs to them, and the inanimate must rely on something to move freely in the real world.

Erebus believed that even Carlil Lohals could never be an exception—no, rather, he could never be an exception.

He thought so, but reality didn't allow him to continue thinking. Amid the screams of the dead and the countless points of light that gradually dissipated, Erebus saw a hideous face clearly.

Its owner is destroying the shield with something more like claws than hands. Each blow made countless souls easily disperse, and he didn't hesitate to do so, as if he didn't need to be bound by any rules or oaths.

There was no pain on his face, only a smile that completely accepted the madness.

This.

Erebus took a deep breath, forced his composure, and unexpectedly completed the formation quickly.

Psionic and chaotic spirits poured into it quickly, circles of intricate lines outlined by blood-like light, and the power of the High Heaven allowed them to exist and be complete, but it was Erebus's knowledge and will that allowed them to come into being from nothing.

His eyes widened intently, and the dark shadow that shattered the shield and lunged at him in the depths of his pupils.

In the last seconds he was about to touch him, Erebus clenched his fists. The light burst out, and the air stirred and agitated in an indescribably immense force.

A little golden light passed away.

Aribus, who knew nothing of this, looked at the stagnant shadow as if he had regained a little confidence. The weight of fear was released at this moment—yes, 10,000 years, and what if He had been revived briefly?

The Dark Apostle smiled unconsciously, forced by the added hubris to stride forward, and even roared out the man's name.

"Carlil Lohals!" He yelled. "I renounce your existence here!"

The brilliance of the circle brightened up under his will as much as never before, and the light completely submerged and enveloped both him and the shadow.

Erebus couldn't help but laugh, though he was immediately alert, realizing that he had just been taken advantage of, but it was too late. His laughter shone brightly and reached a man's ear.

A man, not a beast.

The light dimmed, and a bony hand came out of it, grabbing Erebus's shoulder with precision, followed by a face that was still bloody, but no longer hideous.

The man greeted softly in the unskilled High Gothic.

"Hello, it's been a long time, Erebus. The words you left behind in the ruins of the City of Perfection are still well remembered by me. ”

The teeth of the Dark Apostle began to collide, fear? Perhaps, but more often than not, it was incredulous, and an unacceptable sense of annoyance.

But he quickly calmed down, and even quickly changed his mindset and pulled out a humble smile.

"That's not me, my lord. I haven't done anything like this, I'm just a devout believer."

He skillfully pulled the lie, said stupid things that he didn't believe, and his hands tucked in his sleeves closed silently. At his feet, the shadows dissipated, and Lorja Aurelian's skin rose sharply from it.

The shattered skull and the eyeballs that had fallen out of his sockets were all restored, and he swung his right fist, and the colossal force slammed into Carlil's head with the massive killing intent in Erebus's heart.

Even though the situation was reversed several times, even though fear followed like a shadow, the Dark Apostle still keenly grasped that glimmer of life.

Whatever happened, since the expulsion didn't work for Karil Lohals, it proved that he didn't come to the physical realm by possession, but had a real body.

And the God who receives the flesh is no longer God.

"Boom ——!"

At this crucial moment, the Pseudonym's fist did not hit Carlil's head as Eribus had imagined, but was firmly caught by an assault shield.

The bearer of it is named Keur Sahora, and his eyes are entwined in flames.

"Don't you think about it!" The Shadow Knight roared and pushed his shield upwards, shouting, desperate, and unscrupulously delivered a shield strike that was close at hand.

The combination of his strength and the roar of the power-meched soul caused Loja Aurelian to take two steps back. Erebus looked at him angrily, his left hand quickly sticking out of his sleeve, and the fluorescence flickered.

He looked as if he was about to attack, but the point of light quickly swelled into an extreme flash of light, and even Samus, who had been watching from the sidelines, felt a tingle in his eyes.

When the light dissipated, the puppet and its puppet were gone, leaving behind a cloud of smoke and a circular circle of smoke.

Slowly, Carlil withdrew his hand, hiding it in his sleeve without a trace.

Meanwhile, behind him, Samus, who had been left behind by Erebas, let out an earth-shattering roar—a golden sword pierced its chest, and the man who wielded it had a fierce expression and a burning rage boiling in his eyes.

He turned his wrist, and flames billowed from his sword, beginning to scorch the demon's flesh. Just a look at the face, and let it lose its flesh and blood. Samus struggled to turn the beast's head and spat out a name in a low voice.

"Garvel Lorcan"

The Shadowmoon Wolf drew his sword with contempt and slashed its head. The flames flickered, burning the flesh clean, and the beast's head flew to the ground, where he soon picked it up himself.

Lorcan stared into the deep, hollow sockets of his eyes, his eyes filled with mixed feelings.

He came here with a mission of salvation. He had completed his mission, but Shen had already vanished.

Si Ren has passed away, and how many people will know what this name entrusts and his story?

Lorcan couldn't help but fall into the memory, his newly revived mind did not support his master in such a strenuous activity, and the emotional reaction overwhelmed him in an instant, forcing him to recall people and events that had disappeared in the long river of history.

Fresh faces, sacrificed people, a world red with blood, a trench filled with corpses

He couldn't help but sigh, but not for himself, but for Shen.

How many people will remember his exploits after today? Will his name be taboo again? Will he be erased as honorable as he was before? The once glorious exploits were pressed like a stain on the bottom layer of the filing cabinet, and they never saw the light of day again

Heroes are dusty.

Lorcan clenched his sword in regret, full of pain.

10,000 years is not a matter of fingers for him. He fought for thousands of years before he was buried in a sarcophagus. There are not a few people like him, and Shen is naturally one of them.

And now, he had to see a comrade who had fought on Terra disappear.

He was in mourning, but no one bothered him at the moment. The Astartes, who were still on the battlefield, gathered their weapons, took off their helmets, and bewildered themselves in a torrent of silence, enveloping a man who was far shorter than them.

The man was sitting on a rock, looking at their faces one by one. They stared back with equal silence, and Kayor Sahora was closest to him, so he could see every detail very clearly.

Although the distance did not make any difference to his eyesight, it was possible to see him at such a distance

A thought of disrespect rose in the mind of the War Leader—a man who was too thin compared to the rumored tall giant.

He was like a prisoner who had served hundreds of years in prison

Thinking about it, Kaul pondered his words and slowly opened his mouth—he wanted to say something, but he couldn't.

He didn't even know what words to use to address the person in front of him, Legion Instructor?

No, the Book of Night is a classic book from the time of the Legion, and now it is the age of the Warband

So, the Father of the Primordial? The emperor is above, and this is too blasphemous.

Do you call him by his first name, or call him an adult?

He thought so deeply that he didn't even notice that the person he was thinking about was smiling and staring at him.

"Captain of the Battle of Kaur Sahora." Carlil Lohals spoke softly. "Acapatistto, I say hello."

The battle group leader raised his head suddenly, his face full of astonishment.

- For no apparent reason, he remembered the last two sentences of the Book of Nights.

He will return, and so will he.

They don't forget a single one.

"In addition. I know this may be a bit abrupt, but could you give a command to the Night Soul? Carlil looked up and asked softly.

He had done his best to keep his speech clear, which was not easy for someone who hadn't spoken for a long time.

However, Keur Sahola only looked at him in a daze, and the young warband, who was only two centuries away from the last eleven years of service, seemed to be suddenly deaf, and did not react at all.

It wasn't until someone pushed him from behind that he came back to his senses.

"Of course!" Keul puffed out his chest and roared with great momentum, but unconsciously lowered his tone.

He lowered his head, unusually serious, but also unusually soft, and asked, "Can I know why?" ”

"Because Erebus is heading for your ship, and his purpose is the last drop of Aurelian's blood that Sergeant Ulmit carries."

Keur's face changed drastically.

"There's no need to worry."

Carlil smiled at him and staggered to his feet, blood spilling down from his black robes like a waterfall. His skin began to crumble, muscles following him, tendons breaking from his bones like snapped strings.

This terrifying sight made the battle leader's face change again, the speed and strength almost exceeded the limit of the human face—he hurriedly stretched out his hand and supported him, and his heart suddenly sank.

There was barely any weight in his hands, and the man named Karil Lohals was as light as a piece of paper.

"Don't worry," Carlil repeated again, coughing up blood, leaving a brilliant sparkle of blood on the warband's leader's armarmor.

He struggled to spit out his last words: "Yago Sevitaleon has arrived, and if Erebus does not escape, there may be a chance of survival." And now, he's going to die."

- He is true, even though he has no prophetic powers, and he is not a god at this moment.

Twenty-five minutes later, his words were confirmed.

Erebus and his puppet collided head-on with Yago Sevitaleon, aka, the death of Erebas, in the hallways of the Night Spirit.

(End of chapter)