Witch Forest Friends Club

Dead, all dead.

The undulating and winding folds of the high mountains and deep gorges were filled with the river of blood that flowed after the decisive battle.

The sound of soldiers shouting and killing once shook the ancient and desolate wilderness, and then the lush and regenerated vegetation silently ruled the wilderness, burying everything on the battlefield in the life cycle of vast clouds, mist and rain.

The man supported the blood-stained staff and looked at the misty and raging river in the distance.

Only the flames and thunderstorms that shot straight into the sky on the other side of the river declared that the war was not over yet.

Is the prince still fighting...

what should I do?

The man thinks back to what happened before he lost consciousness.

In order to resist the soul sacrifices of the Gaut wizards, he and the other battle group mages cast a joint spell, but they were finally defeated.

I'm afraid that my colleagues have all suffered from soul stripping under the erosion of Gott's sorcery.

How is the situation now?

The main forces of both sides seemed to be wiped out.

No one can intervene in the battle between the prince and the Thunder Holder.

Has the Knights chasing the remnants of Gott succeeded?Shall I meet them?

Just when the man was hesitating, he saw the holy golden flames, and the collapsed river channel from a distance spread over like a tide bursting its embankment.

The man is very familiar with this flame, and has also analyzed it from the perspective of a spellcaster, but found nothing.

That was Oga's sacred fire for protecting the country——"The King's Flame". In the past few years, they have bathed in the blessing of this flame and fought north and south.

But now, the flame is no longer a blessing.

As a spellcaster, he could see the overwhelming remnant souls, who were forced to be engulfed in the flames and wiped out.

Like an anointed candle that melts in the hot sun—

Originally bathed in the golden fire, the brave heroes and warriors—after turning into corpses, seemed to have become the fuel of the golden flame, sublimated into a part of the light.

The man, who was dominated by fear from head to toe, faintly felt the essence of the flame.

I have to escape.

Otherwise it will become fuel.

When the waves of flames were about to cover the mountain of corpses in front of him, the man turned around and walked tremblingly. With the support of spells, he grabbed the surviving horse and fled.

———Memory Screen Switching ——————

The man sat in rags on the bullock cart, curled up in the shadow of the quivering goods, covering his weakness.

The ox cart stopped at the refugee camp, and when he wanted to get out of the cart to find water to drink, he heard the conversation of the refugees gathered around the campfire.

"Have you heard? The Great Master of the North is dead."

"Yes, following His Royal Highness, all the legions that broke into Rexxar were wiped out."

"But 'Wang Yan Lion' triumphed."

"His Royal Highness has eradicated the Gotts! From now on, the territory north of Mount Rexxar will belong to us Oga."

"The Royal Army has suffered heavy losses. We can join the army now and fight for His Royal Highness—those dirty fishers in the northern part of the peninsula will pay the price for opposing us sooner or later!"

"Prince Porfirio, the well-deserved number one warrior! He abides by virtue, never enjoys pleasure, and fights bravely to protect the country. Such a great hero, even the witches of the academy, have no reason to intervene in this war."

"Haha, cheers to Oga's future!"

At some point, the man stood silently behind the group of blind lambs. Looking at the blazing bonfire, he vented the fear in his heart in a strange way.

"No, you don't know what the number one warrior you are talking about is exactly."

The man's teeth were trembling, and he uttered words of panic.

"That's a man-eating monster."

"Who is slandering His Royal Highness!"

"Are you a deserter or a spy! Everyone catch him and take him for a reward!"

After a farce-like fight, the refugees fled hastily under the threat of spells, leaving only a few corpses as a deterrent price.

Men crouched by campfires, picking up leftover food from the refugees.

"It's sad, ignorant lamb, trying to feed himself to lions."

The man once again embarked on a long journey home.

He swallowed the truth of what he saw on the battlefield, and never told anyone again.

But far away from the "flame of the king", coupled with the sequelae of overloading war witchcraft, the body that was originally full of magic essence, like a small lake whose source has been cut off, dried up in the scorching sun of the world.

He resisted the fact that the honor and power of the past were gone, and fled to live in the shadow of the sewer until he was completely reduced to a walking dead tortured by the magic addiction.

Only the fear of the golden flame is still a lingering nightmare to this day.

Until one day in the sewer, mixed in the garbage dump, slowly waiting for mold to rot, I met an invitation from an old friend from the past.

He who has been relying on drunkenness, dreams and death to avoid fear, finally fell into the abyss of dreams with a restless heart, seeking the comfort of the voice of the apocalypse.

Only by soaking in the water waves in the dark depths can he escape the fear of "flame".

--------------

Those distant days-the fragments of memories that were crushed into the dust, red and cruel, seemed to be mixed with the dark mist in front of the eyes, and flowed into the mind with turbulent changes.

The gigantic monster escaped the pain that tormented the body and mind in the past, writhed and twisted its strong, slimy flesh and tissue, and inevitably fell into ecstasy.

Ouroboros He did not lie to me.

I really turned back into a spellcaster!

Even the mantra that he possessed in the past is incomparably powerful.

But besides joy, all the emotions he had in his life, the experience that tortured him to death, also flooded into his mind along the memory at the same moment, causing him to have an uncontrollable manic confusion.

Sure enough, something was wrong.

Is that woman with weird wings in the sky a witch from the academy?

Why can't you beat her?

Obviously, by himself, he has almost the spell power of an entire battle group of mages.

Obviously there are so many organs capable of casting spells, every mouth can read spells, every tentacle is equivalent to a staff, and every eyeball can recognize the flow of magic essence endowed with the shape of a witch spell.

Even the source of magic essence that was cut off was connected by the eye of witnessing true knowledge—the body and mind that had been burned out like ashes were reinfused with vitality.

There is some intimate voice whispering to his soul that is constantly splitting and proliferating—as long as he understands these words, the power will flow in an endless stream.

In the dark abyss, in the dream that never wants to wake up, and looks at the magnificent "sight".

His countless fragmented senses were unified by that voice.

Already about to touch the mystery of truth again!

But why do you still have to be suppressed by this woman!

Crapsey!

Gotta get Crapsey back.

This girl, who outshone the angels in this filthy world, could fill the numb hole in his soul.

But it hurts, it hurts.

The originally vigorous flesh and blood felt the pain again under the endless attacks of the enemy.

Not only the body, but also the spirit is threatened by pain.

This pain took away the injected vitality from his body, and turned into black ice blue mucus, like blood tears, sliding down from the eyeballs made of countless distorted faces.

Crapsey!

In this way, in the entanglement of pain and obsession, the man is constantly familiar with the way of fighting in this new body.

Until a white light shining in the mist, like a sharp sword splitting the night, dispelled the vast mist and shone in his eyeballs, even the blood and tears seemed to evaporate in the blink of an eye.

That light is so dazzling.

A light that was so hot that it seemed to melt the soul, and that was so pale that it was almost nothingness—it was very familiar to him.

No, I have to escape!

Gotta escape!

Run away from this light, or everyone will die!

This "Apocalypse" body, which he finally obtained, and his soul, which once again felt the beauty of truth, will also usher in the burning destruction.

Where is Ouroboros!

Why did that guy come to me!

The soul curled up in the alien body let out a turbid roar of fear, but no one could understand his voice anymore.

"Crapsey, run away!"

Kenny couldn't bear to turn his head - swinging many tentacles and thick fish tails, supporting a huge mountain of slimy meat, he climbed towards the mage tower at the top of the forest.

The lighthouse that seems to illuminate the cold lake is revealing a blue and magnificent outline in the mist that is fading away.

-----------------

"Kenny is fleeing in the direction of the mage's tower!" Anjaye, who noticed the abnormality of the battlefield in the distance, stopped the magic eye to prevent being stimulated by the white light. "Is he scared away by that light?"

Bai Guang and Wu Hai are like a pair of gladiators, each fighting against each other in the arena, but the mist in a trembling state is being forced to retreat steadily by the pale light tide.

"Who is here?" Fan Na couldn't help but turn pale, "This kind of power doesn't look like witchcraft."

"Lian." An Jiaye swallowed imperceptibly, "It should be him."

"Who is Ryan?" Old Marchius put his two-handed sword in front of his body, and said solemnly, "You really don't know which guy is here?"

Seeing the girls looking at each other, the old knight sensed the increasing vibration intensity of the ground under his feet, and looked at the rapidly approaching pale beam of light.

"In the whole of Oga, there is only one person who can vent his fighting spirit in such an exaggerated way, and can still do this. I have only seen one in my entire life."

Old Machius looked sideways at his grandson.

"Remember, Earnshaw."

The Headless Horseman also had a gloomy and strenuous expression at this moment. He seemed to be trying his best to restrain the death energy of the Styx overflowing from his body, and to deal with the impact of the pale light tide.

"Well, 13 years ago, when the Gotts invaded the border, that person passed by Cold Lake."

Knight Earnshaw barely uttered a complete sentence, and sneered at Anjaye and the others: "Pray, this time he didn't come to settle accounts with you."

"It's really scary." Elsa pretended to be alarmed, "Xiao An, we were on the road, and we accidentally picked up a big trouble."

"Who exactly are you talking about, Earnshaw?" Only Miss Vanna was still perplexed.

"Wang Yan lion, Porfirio."

Fanna looked at An Jiaye in horror for a moment - it was not the two cold lake knights who said the thunderous name, but the senior sister beside her.

The black-haired girl held onto the Heartbud staff so tightly that even the mushrooms on the head of the staff were crushed, she sighed as if she lost her strength.

"I should have guessed it was his."

Fan Na's thin and slender body also trembled in panic like a duck drowning in a storm.

She seemed to finally connect the strange scene in front of her with the pillar of fire shaking the storm in the Rexxar Mountains: "Impossible, isn't Wang Yan's fire golden!"

"The flame of vindictiveness does reflect one's will, but this will can be changed freely, and what is even more powerful is the color that reflects the origin of the soul." Old Machius shook his head and sighed, "I have never been able to touch this in my life. Realm, and Wang Yanshi, no one knows whether he has stepped through that gate."

"I have a question." An Jiaye patted his face hard, trying to keep himself awake, "The person who came to the island with us always looked like a white-haired boy, and he didn't seem to have any traces of magic disguise, but 'Wang Yan Lion' should be in his 30s this year."

Old Machius seemed to have regained his reef-like composure, talking indifferently about an astonishing conjecture.

"It is said that Oga's founding father, the 'Mad King' Ricardo Atela, was in his prime until his whereabouts disappeared in his later years. Perhaps the royal family who is qualified to embrace the 'Holy Flame' can remain young forever Maybe."

"And Porfirio inherited the torch of protecting the country more than ten years ago, when he was a child."

"Because of his forbidden origin, Porfirio's existence has never been exposed to the world before inheriting the holy flame. Even if he has white hair that is completely different from the royal family, as long as the holy flame is in his body, he is a well-deserved heir to the Atalian royal family .”

An Jiaye nodded, completely recognizing the fact that the enemy was lurking by his side.