Azeroth Shadow Trail

   Chapter 195 14. The Second Lesson of the Warlock

   "I shouldn't be here! I knew he had bad intentions!"

  In the dark cellar exuding endless jewels, Kanrisad, holding the dirty magic bag in his hand, walked along the damp and cold ground of the cellar, and said in his heart:

   "I should be smarter, that guy is a stinky pirate! He's an asshole!"

   said so in his heart, but the skinny boy did not stop moving forward.

   Compared with the unknown things in front of him, he is obviously more afraid of the invisible Black around him.

  Although his feet trembled a little when he moved forward, the skinny boy kept taking deep breaths and squeezed the cold gold coin in his hand.

   And the warning barrier maintained by the two magic springs in front of him has been temporarily terminated by Black in the shadows using the skill of disarming the trap. Since he learned this skill from Garona, Black has not used it much.

   is not very skilled.

   If a legendary assassin is here, this trap can be easily discarded.

   He stood where he was.

  The body was wrapped in shadows. Compared with the first time he sneaked, Blake's actions in the shadows now have no traces to be found.

  's advanced shadow affinity, coupled with the resident status of the shadow covering his body, made his stealth skills break through to the legendary level when on the sea, and weakened when on land, but still maintained the master level.

   He only needs to continue comprehending the existence rhythm of the shadow, spend more time practicing, and enter the legendary stealth, it is only a matter of time.

   "call"

  Blake let out a long breath, took out the Hurricane Hunting Bow from his suitcase in the shadows, and silently picked up a sapphire arrow made by snake man.

   He narrowed his eyes and began to wait.

   In front of him, the skinny boy dawdled and finally finished the journey that made him tremble with fear.

   He thought there would be the deadly trap described in the bard's tale.

  The ground cracked, exposing spikes, or the wall collapsed, and a knife and axe were ejected.

   But no.

  The people who hid these treasures here seem to be very confident in the defense here, and they are not worried that thieves will come to steal the treasures, and they have not set more stupid traps here.

   "Why are these two things so shabby?"

   Kanrisad came to the weapon rack at the end of the cellar.

   He is just a warlock apprentice. He doesn't know anything about identifying treasures, and he doesn't have much knowledge. He can only judge the inside of a thing from its appearance.

   On the weapon rack in front of him, the two weapons placed in front of him couldn't compare with dozens of other rare treasures stored in the cellar.

   How beautiful are those babies, each radiating a magical light.

   But the two in front of them are very poor in appearance.

   That two-handed sword looked quite heavy.

The    is made of some kind of gray steel, with curved lines on the blade, a weird, small black horned skeleton with curved horns inlaid on the hilt, and four bone spurs extending from the blade.

The   gauntlet was made to curve inward, and the hilt was wrapped with torn cloth strips.

   It should have been around for a long time.

   The skinny boy looked at the sword carefully. He didn't think there was anything unusual about the sword. It was a heavy weapon that he could not lift.

   And Black told me just now, don't touch this sword.

  So, Kanrisad quickly lost interest in it, so he focused on the sickle staff next to it, which was more eye-catching than the two-handed sword.

   Although it is also covered with dust and cobwebs, the external shape is much cooler.

   About one meter five high.

   It looks like a rod body made of some kind of weird metal, wrapped with worn-out cloth strips, and a barb-like bone spur extends from the tail of the rod, and at the head of the rod, it is the shape of a straight-edged sickle.

  The black steel is ground into a sharp blade, and there are bone spur-like barbs on the blade, like weird insect segments.

   On the other side of the blade, a strange, half-damaged head was fixed, and the remains that seemed to come from some kind of demon could be vaguely seen.

   "This thing looks amazing."

   Kanrisad thought:

   "Chop up and chop off the head of an orc, it's probably as easy as cutting wheat. But the bad guy in Black said there's 'something' in it, and he's been hungry for hundreds of years.

   Do I really have to hold it? "

   The skinny boy hesitated for a moment. He looked back at the empty cellar behind him. He didn't see Black, but he knew that Black must be here.

   The pirates will not allow him to leave until he has completed his mission.

   After hesitating for a few seconds, the skinny boy's heart sank, and he put his hand on the dark sickle in front of him. He was ready to face the unknown.

   But the moment he really touched the sickle, he realized that he was still too stupid.

   The second his fingers touched, he suddenly felt the consciousness of a terrifying thing that fell on him, as if facing the pressure of the gods, making the skinny boy fall to the ground in an instant.

   His fingers were also released from the hot sickle.

   But that consciousness was still examining him. After three hard seconds, that terrifying consciousness lost interest in him, and then the next second, there was a mournful wailing sound from the sickle.

When the trembling hands and feet of Kanrisad were used to escape, the sickle behind him was quickly suspended in the air without being held, and then released from the sickle in the entanglement of purple soul fragments. of evil spirits.

   That is an illusory, tall eredar female demon!

  She is dead!

  What remains here is just a sad soul swallowed by the evil scythe, but before her death, she was the last holder of this cursed holy artifact.

  Anyone who wants to hold this scythe will have to go through her challenge.

   This is a cruel ceremony. You must defeat the previous holder of the scythe in order to prove that you have the qualifications to control this sacred object.

   "No one! Can take away Ursales from me!"

   The devoured soul howled.

   Her soul body is riddled with holes, like broken glass being reassembled. She may have been strong in her lifetime, but she is no longer as brave as she used to be.

   After all, she has been dead for hundreds of years, and in these hundreds of years, she has never tasted a fresh soul.

   is like a shriveled corpse.

   As long as she can overcome the fear in her heart, she is actually not difficult to deal with.

   "Ah! Stay away from me! You monster!"

  Unfortunately, Kanrisad has neither the strength nor the will to face this dangerous soul in front of him.

   The fourteen-year-old apprentice was so frightened that he kept retreating on the ground.

   can only watch the crazy soul, grab the scythe emitting a purple streamer, and walk towards him. The soul and the scythe are already ready to taste the fresh offerings.

   She raised her scythe with a wild laugh, slashed at Kanrisad, and shouted:

   "I am Satyr! I am the Deadwind Reaper! I am the one who will kill Sargeras! Stupid human cub, give me your soul!"

"what!"

   The skinny boy was trembling with fright, but fortunately he didn't lose his mind.

   Seeing that the scythe was about to slash, he hurriedly grabbed the magic jewelry that Blake gave him, held the dirty little bag in his hand, and injected his pitifully weak magic into it.

   "Crash"

   A dazzling bolt of lightning flew out from the skinny boy's palm, hitting the howling mad soul, knocking her back a few steps, and seeing the six magic packs in his hand take effect, Kanrisad was ecstatic for a moment.

   But in the next moment, no matter how much he used his magic power, the dirty little bag would no longer respond.

   And the mad soul who was knocked back a few steps felt the pain, she charged up with the sickle again, and slashed at the skinny boy who could no longer escape.

   "Poof"

   Blood gushed from his heart.

  The horrific pain overwhelmed Canrisad Eberlock, causing him to let out a scream, twitching and falling to the ground, knowing that he was dying.

   It's all because of that **** Captain Black!

   You must be sure

Uh?

   The thin boy whose heart was pierced was stunned for a moment. He felt that the pain in his heart was rapidly diminishing, numb, and his blood was no longer reserved.

  A force wrapped around his dying body and pulled him back from the borderline of death.

   He stared blankly at the ghost in front of him, and the ghost was also looking at him blankly.

   Black, who was in the shadows, stared blankly at the scene in front of him. The hurricane bow in his hand had maintained a sniper stance for more than five seconds.

   On the ghost's head, there is also a hunter's mark that only he can see shining.

  Sniper combat skills, proficiency +2.

  Proficient in jumping, master, master!

   "Whoosh"

   A sapphire bone arrow shone with a subtle arc from the bowstring.

   And Blake injected magic into it, inspiring the special effects of the Hurricane Bow. A layer of frost splashed around to freeze the arrow, and the sharp sapphire arrow was also wrapped with a blade cast by shadows.

   At the moment of the shot, he crossed a distance of less than ten meters, and an arrow pierced the chest of the ghost Satel.

  The three magical powers of ice, lightning and shadow erupted at the same time. Under Kanrisad's wide-eyed gaze, most of the fierce ghost was frozen in ice for a moment.

   Black, who was in the state of Shadow Dance, fired this sniper arrow, but did not escape from stealth.

   He threw the war bow back into his suitcase in a leisurely manner.

   He took out the worn-out hilt with his left hand, injected magic power, and made the blazing long sword jump out of the blade like a blazing lightsaber. During the movement of his right hand, he rotated the Demon Strike in the palm of his hand several times and clasped it with his backhand.

   moved his neck.

   Shadowstep, start!

  “Shu”

  The expressionless pirate appeared behind the tall ghost, and staggered his hands to strike a sinister strike. Between the dark black blades attached to the flame beat, he struck seven times in a second.

   Another special effect of Devil's Strike erupted twice, tearing most of the ghost's neck apart.

Wearing the title of    Spirit Hunter, every tear will bring pain to the soul, and in the scream of Satel, with the moment when the shadow suit shattered, Blake raised his left hand and swept his right forward.

   In the shadow-ridden whistling, a classic lethal saber stab, let the flames of the blazing long sword pierce the heart of the ghost, and then tear to the left and right, completely severing the weak remnant soul.

"what!"

  Sartel's ghost screamed and turned into a purple streamer, trying to escape back into the scythe of the cursed relic, but was grabbed by Black's palm.

   He was surrounded by black smoke-like shadows, like an indifferent assassin emerging from the shadows.

   The purple ghost in his opponent's heart whispered:

   "I know who you are, I know what you have done, and I know your shameful failure The legacy of Usakos must be opened with your demise.

  Sorry, Satel, we have nothing to do with each other.

   But I must kill you.

   This is not a personal conflict. "

"Snapped"

   As the pirate's five fingers clasped together, the purple soul fragment turned into a stream of heat and melted into Blake's body in the piercing wailing from his palm.

  The pirate threw it on the warlock class without looking at it, and then picked up the black sickle and staff that was floating around him.

   At the moment when his fingers touched, he observed Kanrisad's terror consciousness before, and also observed Black at this moment, but the pirates didn't care at all.

   He flicked his sickle and said viciously:

   "Look what! You loser!"

After    left a sentence, the pirate bent down, pulled the undead Kanrisad from the ground, patted the dust on his shoulder again, and said earnestly to the apprentice warlock:

   "The six magic packs I gave you can randomly release twelve spells, some of which can help you escape. But what you used just now is the most useless of the twelve spells.

   This is the second lesson I am going to teach you today.

  As a warlock, never trust luck.

   Don't put your life on luck. When you embark on the black-faced road of warlock, you must be mentally prepared for bad luck.

Have you learned it? "

   (end of this chapter)