Orc Tyrant

The fall in Cusconar has been witnessed in many parts of the world. Many people thought it was a harbinger of the end and rushed to the church. Some people thought it was a miracle and prayed to their gods. Only a few people thought it was a sign of the end. , Knowing that things are far from that simple.

Those people chose to remain silent.

"Is that a trust..."

Standing on the balcony on the second floor of the white villa, Hannibal holding a goblet looked at the sky and muttered to himself.

As the scarlet curtains on the balcony flicked slightly, a woman in mourning walked out of the house.

"what are they?"

"In the past, a bunch of poor bugs."

"You never mentioned these."

"Because I don't think these are necessary to say, do they?"

Taking a sip of the turbid red liquid in the glass, Hannibal's handsome face outlined a strange smile, which looked like a real and fake doll under the bleak sun, and the uncanny valley effect was infinitely magnified on his body.

"When they come, the world really becomes interesting, tear off the false veil."

"There is news in the secret hall of the blood worship."

"Don't worry, it's a careful thing. Have you ever caught a rabbit?"

"No."

The lady's answer was blunt and cold, and Hannibal sighed regretfully, as if he had lost much fun.

"In the wild, a rabbit is difficult to catch, but if it returns to its nest, where it thinks it is the safest place, then at this time, only a puff of smoke is needed."

"Cunning Rabbit Three Caves."

"Yes, very correct, so what we have to do now is to find out all the possible holes in it. Before that, we must let the fiercest hound chase it for a while."

"You serve it as your Lord."

"Yes, it is the greatest violence!"

Hannibal threw the cup in his hand and opened his arms as if he was about to embrace the rising sun.

"That's why I need it, and I help it. In this dark and chaotic world, only the purest violence can find the truth, so it is great!"

"But you also describe it as a hound."

"It's very appropriate, isn't it? It always pursues its prey, eager to tear everything with its claws and teeth, but it is only a servant itself, but it does not realize this."

He withdrew his sight from the sky, and then turned to the noisy and bustling city-New Abraham.

This is the largest port city in the New California Republic, the largest city in the entire Republic, and the largest city in the entire world.

It originated from a small trading island. In the process of continuous immigration and development, it has absorbed a large number of immigrants and businessmen by virtue of its unique geographical advantages. When the New California Republic was established, it was already the second largest city in the entire New World.

Originally, according to the original vision of the founders, New Abraham should be the capital of the country, but due to certain political and religious reasons, the city was eventually used as an economic center rather than a political center.

The immigrants yearn for its prosperity, the priests denounce its filth, the politicians need its support, the criminals desire its wealth, and the businessmen enjoy its power.

This is New Abraham, the city of banks, the city of adventure, the city of wealth, the city of sin...

Of course, in such a place, certain things that breed in the deepest part of the human heart are naturally indispensable.

Hannibal likes this city, and people like him also like this city.

For example, in a dark temple underground...

for example……

He, fear clinging to his soul, an idea spawned, even if he kept struggling, he would still be restrained forever.

He couldn't control his wandering and trembling consciousness, like a primitive spear being vigorously stirred. The sound from all directions tempted him, licking his brain like a fierce burning flame, weakening his determination. Pull him to hell.

He looked at the chief priest standing in front of him, but was unable to fight.

In the end, no word was uttered or a shout was made.

His thoughts desperately eager to say: Choose me!

Five-ring elder Shimon Koletskiy looked down at the broken body that had belonged to the cursed Wendigo cultist, without a trace of pity in his eyes.

His hand rested on the staff of chaos, clenched and relaxed while waiting impatiently, his eyes hidden in the bladed visor glowed with a faint red light.

"He is ready, my lord."

Koletski turned around and said, it was obviously painful to be asked to obey, his tone still pretending to be soft and weak.

"Then go ahead, priest, but be careful, if you let me down, then he won't be the only sacrifice tonight."

A scarlet armored lord Molière replied straightforwardly, revealing shark-like sharp teeth, and his face with ravines and spells full of charms did not have any kindness. After speaking, he leaned forward and leaned on the huge gluttonous battle. On the sickle, the blade twisted hungrily under his grip.

Shimon Koletsky didn't answer, but instead clicked on the staff without saying a word. The selected cultist bowed his head and walked to the edge of the pit, as if in a trance.

There is an altar at the bottom of the newly excavated deep pit. It is not much better than a random stone pile, but its side is carved with serpentine patterns, which depict sacrifices and massacres. The craftsmen inscribed each place. They all gave their blood and finished the production with anger, pain and love.

The surface of the altar was soaked with blood overflowing from countless living sacrifices, and blood flowed into every deep groove and crevice.

The cultist cautiously crawled along the edge of the pit to the altar. Every step he took, he became more frightened because he didn't know what he was doing, but a whisper sounded in his soul, disintegrating his resistance and dragging him forward. He doesn't need to be escorted-even though he knows he doesn't want to.

When he approached the altar, he realized that Koletsky and Molière were already waiting there with their armed entourage fanned behind them.

Just in case, even in the pit shrouded in shadow, he could still see the unchanging malice beating in their eyes.

Molière itself is a monster, like a strong and draped corpse, like a pile of pale rotten flesh under the thin moonlight, it seems that only his sharp knife-like teeth are reflecting the light, and its evil is far beyond human imagination.

A stench radiated into the air, and the cultists realized for the last time how Molière’s scarlet armor was covered with a thick layer of paint. Those were the last bits of residue from the countless warriors who fell on the journey of the Lord of God. Witnesses of **** massacres spanning countless regions for a hundred years.

Without any encouragement, the nameless cultist climbed onto the altar and lay down, with his arms raised above his head and his feet reaching the corners of the slab.

He closed his eyes and felt an almost imperceptible vibration from the rocks below.

So, here is where it all started.

Suddenly Koletskiy stopped singing, and the silence instantly occupied the deep pit, and only the continuous gasp broke the silence.

The cultist began to yell, a huge gap cut open his chest, and blood and organs flowed all over the altar.

Molière's tongue licked his sharp teeth, watching the power of the gods squeeze the victim's body, dreaming that one day he could have this power too.

"My lord, the eternal city has fallen, my lord's will..."

Koletski interrupted his fantasies and pulled his consciousness back from the mist of delusion.

"That has nothing to do with us. Our task is to complete the final sacrifice and offer Wendigo's heart to our lord. Everything is under control. Trusts, the Citizen Temple, and the Three Witches are just what our lord said. Food!"

Suddenly, a shower of blood fell in the enclosed temple, and Molière watched the huge blood basin in front of the distorted idol gradually fill up, and nodded in satisfaction.

"I drop the tortoise! ​​Is this Xiami making a firecracker?"

Guk stood on the edge of the cliff facing the sea, looking at the falling blue sun in the east. The scene was so shocking that he opened his mouth in shock, and the **** fish on his tongue was still beating.

Like him, many warlords and bosses were shocked by this spectacle.

"Head, this thing keeps talking!"

"Where is that?"

Guk turned her head and looked at Evre, who was sitting on her shoulders. She stared into the distance, her long lavender hair wrapped around her fingers.

"My lord, if the concubine remembers correctly, it should be... Cusconar's direction."

"What?"

Guk can't remember the long and winding names of human beings.

"It's the capital of the Benedict Empire."

"That place! Isn't it possible... Someone is ahead of me?"

As soon as he thought that the goal he had booked had been acted upon first, Guk became a little angry, he immediately turned around, stared at Mogdrogen and said:

"Tell Glak, if they don't work slowly, I will screw off their three heads one by one!"