"You guys are late." Darkus, who was in charge of the pressure at the back, said with a smile to the monster charging at him.
The monsters that burst out of the passage were not the Nurgle beasts or slugs and toads that Darkus was looking for, but a group of clucking things that looked like a disgusting mix of boars and hounds. body.
Just as Darkus finished speaking, the fast-moving hounds howled provocatively at him, and he bared his teeth at the hounds and roared in response. But he did not meet the charge of the hounds. He was only responsible for the rear and did not necessarily need to fight. When he jumped on the crossbow, the whole palace shook violently. Fortunately, he had a firm grip, otherwise he would have been thrown into the ditch.
Darkus grabbed the chain with one hand, and slashed at the rushing hound with the hand holding the scarlet sword. The hound jumping in mid-air lost its soul the moment it was struck, and drew a graceful line in the mid-air. The parabola fell into the ditch, causing a wave of waves before completely disappearing into the boiling ditch. The boiling steam kept rising from his feet.
The casters who had arrived on the other side handed the quivers they carried to Tolandil. The arrows from the bows and crossbows continued to pour at the hounds that rushed toward Darkus. He was no longer threatened by the hounds, and he The body was stretched across the wall, moving quickly like a crab.
The hounds, knowing that nothing could be done, bared their teeth and roared at Darkus, then turned around and returned to the tunnel, disappearing without a trace. However, one wave came after another, and just as Darkus moved on the wall, a slender figure slowly walked out from the front of the passage.
The figure's yellow robe exuded the smell of urine, and the elves quickly determined that it was a man. Although almost every inch of the figure's exposed body was covered with scabs, what the elves could not determine was that this What race the man is, but it doesn't matter now.
The man's chest has the rune of Nurgle's fly drawn with excrement, and a similar rune is branded on the scalp of his head. The poor guy's eyes were black with disease and a fanged grin spread across his scabbed face. He raised his fleshless hand and began chanting a spell, disgusting words flowing from his mouth.
The elves could feel the air around them becoming hot and heavy as the man chanted the spell, clinging to them like a wet rag, and the walls of flesh around them began to turn green.
Darkus, who was still moving on the wall, could clearly feel that the wall was twitching, as if everything was withering under the evil magic of the wizard. He could feel that his armor began to become more corroded due to decay. This discovery sent him into a slight panic, but he quickly maintained his composure, knowing that he would reach the other side before the wall rotted and pushed him into the ditch.
Belloda, who was casting a spell, suddenly coughed loudly, and bile flowed down the corners of her mouth. It became difficult for her to stand. She could feel the spell intensifying the disease that was consuming her. She could feel her body becoming hot. She groaned and fell straight to the ground. She was struggling on the ground. She was standing, but she found that she couldn't stand up at all.
The wizard who was still reciting the spell looked at the elves in front of him. Seeing the despair in their eyes, he showed a bright smile. The slaves of a loving father are filled with endless despair, and their final joy is seeing another suffer the same pain.
Selire saw the wizard's gloating expression, he could feel the wizard's ridicule, and he could feel the anger swelling in his heart. He roared and hurried towards the wizard. He could see the wizard's expression change, becoming a little frustrated, while the wizard's spells became faster and fuller.
However, the wizard had no chance. Selire heard the sound of Shakara throwing a three-pronged boomerang. At the same time, he also raised the half-Clive blade in his right hand. His advancing body was constantly jumping and spinning. Then he bent his arm forward and threw the broad blade at the wizard. The broad blade cut into the wizard's chest like a meat cleaver.
At the same time, various attacks from the elves also arrived. The wizard's face clearly showed an expression of disbelief, and then with a groan, he fell to the floor. His body seemed to have lost its support. It was constantly festering and decaying. In a moment, his body appeared. The thick smoke turned into a pool of pus, and even Selire's broad blade was corroded.
Selire cursed secretly after seeing the tragic situation of the broad blade. He knew that the broad blade could not be taken away. Fortunately, when he came, the daggers assigned by the cult's men on Obion Island were coming.
Darkus, who had already arrived on the other side, noticed something abnormal about Belloda. At this time, Belloda collapsed on the ground, his legs were twitching continuously, and he was coughing blood against the squirming flesh. He pulled open the bottom of Belloda's magic robe. He saw that the tightly wrapped cloth when Belloda came here was festered. Through the gap, he could see that Belloda's left calf was covered with jagged scars. Jagged wounds, black worms squirming in the flesh, pus dripping from dark red abscesses around the flesh. He gasped and shook his head, the pain of this Assur stung him as if it were his own pain.
After Beloda saw Darkus arriving, she reluctantly reached out and grabbed Darkus' arm. Then she turned her head and coughed violently. When she turned her head to look at Darkus again, the black Liquid dripped from the corners of her mouth.
"She now belongs to the God of Plague, and it won't be long before He will claim her." Colonia, who came over, announced in a cold voice.
Darkus didn't say anything, but reached out to brush away the wet hair from Belloda's forehead to avoid getting the black liquid on his hair. While he struggled with his fatigue and despair, he felt a wave of anger and disgust sweeping through his body. Belloda's current appearance was simply a cruel mockery of the Chaos Gods.
"Is there any way? Can this thing work?" Darkus turned his eyes from Belloda and turned to the spellcasters surrounding him. He took out the one in his arms and arrived here. Said Cao, who had no effect from beginning to end.
"Leave me alone." Belloda groaned, knowing that she had failed, that everything was over, and that all her struggles and hardships were meaningless. She knew that all she could do now was let them move on. This might be the only way to get everything back to normal.
"Maybe... what she said is right, she will only slow us down. If... you are willing, I... I... can do it, after we get out..." Lindyalok came over, he There was no malice in his words, but instead revealed hardship and bitterness, as well as a humble and comforting tone.
Darkus turned his head and glared at Lindialok. Lindialok felt his gaze and anger. He sighed deeply and swallowed the rest of his words.
Franais walked to Belloda silently and knelt on one knee in front of her. He grabbed her hand, his eyes flashed with unconcealable love and affection, but there was also a layer of unspeakable pain. He realized that he had transcended time, hatred, and ethnic groups. Only at this moment did he realize He likes Belloda. He just looked at Belloda like this, as if at this moment, the whole world froze.
Then, Franais turned his eyes to his sister standing next to him. In his eyes, there was a kind of prayer and expectation. He hoped that his sister could find some way to find a chance for Belloda in this difficult situation, but Alyssa responded to him with helplessness.
"She must die now, otherwise her soul will belong to the God of Plague. No! Maybe...she will survive." Asanok said while taking the grass from Darkus' hand, and he squeezed Darkus away. Us and Franais knelt down on one knee. He reached under his cloak and took out a bag. The team was prepared to deal with the items here before setting off, but it was only a response, not a guarantee.
Asanok kept taking out various items from the bag. His hands held a small bundle of wet stick-shaped tree roots. He frowned and ground the roots with both hands, and then pulled them off from the grass. A leaf, and various things turned into a ball of sticky pulp under his adjustment. It looked like a ball of silver ingots, but more like blood...
"This is an ancient human therapy. She shouldn't die. , at least she won't die here." After Asanok finished speaking, he stuffed the ball into Belloda's mouth.
Belloda struggled to swallow the paste with the help of Franais, but the miracle did not happen, and she did not stand up again immediately with vitality.
Franais looked at Belloda, and he could feel the various emotions flashing through Belloda's eyes. Even if the disease eroded Belloda's vitality, it did not weaken Belloda's gaze at all. He picked up Belloda and kissed Belloda's feverish face. He hugged Belloda tightly, trying to inject his power into Belloda's weak body, trying to drive Belloda away with his passion. Rhoda's body was clammy.
"Keep going." After finishing speaking, Darkus stood up and picked up the walking barrier.
The team began to march hard, walking in the passage, the hounds howling, and as the hounds smelled the team's scent, the hounds' pursuit became louder.
The flesh within the tunnels was replaced by bones, diseased, battered husks huddled together. Insects poked their heads out of hollows in skulls, and rats chewed on fragments of bone inside rotting chest cavities. The ground was a clay-like carpet of marrow that crunched under the elves' feet, oozing milky marrow fluid as their boots scraped the ground. Not far ahead, two large pits were opened on the floor, and stagnant steam rose from the depths.
The howling hound sped up, and a skinny hound with a chin covered with venomous thorns rushed towards Gavino's throat. Gavino split its neck with a long-handled tomahawk and sprinkled the diseased blood all over. land. However, this was just the beginning. Another one came, and another one, each more terrifying than the last. The two brothers of the Denalis family and Cowell and Cradin who came over to take over were retreating while killing each other. The hounds died tragically one after another, making the other hounds cower in fear, unwilling to face those who had already defeated them. Their leader's creature, but they did not turn away, but slowly approached the team.
Darkus, who was holding the walking barrier, was walking behind Baine. At that moment, he could feel that the team was walking downwards, or that the passage was like a wriggling intestines, suddenly changing its position, allowing the team to Plunging headlong into the cloying depths. The sticky ground is like a slide, and the team can only move forward, not backward. He felt a twinge of panic when he noticed the symmetrical ribs on the rough red walls. Keeping gliding, he eventually collided with a foul-smelling velvety wall, the flexibility of the wall cushioning his impact as his body hit the repulsive substance.
Darkus pulled his hands out of the rotten mud, and the armor wrapped on his boots scraped against the rotten ground, trying to stabilize his body. However, his attempt made the mud even more slippery, making his body More unstable.
The team seemed to have entered a slide, going down continuously until they fell to the ground and splashed a pool of sewage and internal organs. Their cries were mixed with despair and anger, as if they were helpless cries for this accident.
The scene instantly became chaotic, and the room was filled with rot and turbidity. Darkus retched and spit out filth from his mouth. The putrid sludge dripped from his body. He tried to stand up from the filthy water. He stood up, but before he could stand firm, he was pressed back again by the elves that followed one after another. Fortunately, he closed his mouth before falling down again this time. When he stood up again, he did not scream, but retched and stared up at the slide passage behind where he fell, waiting for any sign of pursuit. However, as time passed, he still saw no trace of the enemy. I don't know if it was luck or something, but the enemy seemed to have temporarily lost track.
Wait for the team to regroup before sending it out again. Darkus was wandering in the filth, and the spell that could illuminate the surroundings and disperse the fog lost its effect here. The foul-smelling fog covered the dark passage, and he could only squint his eyes to see clearly a few meters ahead. He could feel that the mud under the water was alive, crawling under his feet, waiting for an opportunity to pull him into the mud the moment he stood firm.
As soon as Darkus slowed down, he felt something black explode not far in front of him. In an instant, his scarlet sword flashed through the darkness and struck the phantom, The sound of the collision made him feel that he had hit the thing just now, and the shadow turned into fragments and splashed on the water. He had no time to think about it. After he drew back the scarlet sword, the shadow was bounced back again.
After Bainie took a step forward, the phantom appeared again, with circles of internal organs hanging on the phantom's body. Only after he dodged could he see clearly what the phantom was. It was a big black thorn, thicker than a spear. It was thick and so sharp that it felt cruel to him. Barbs protrude from the sides of the large spines, dripping with mucus and excrement.
Darkus, who was standing behind Baine, also saw the glowing venom dripping from the tip of each thorn. When he looked again, the shadow disappeared again, hiding under the sewage and filth again. When the water became still again, a harrowing fear soon arose in his mind. As he walked cautiously, the second thorn appeared again and almost hit him.
When the sticky spikes sank again, Drusala, who was standing behind Darkus, roared angrily. The two star stones floated up, and then a flaming metal jet erupted from the star stones. And out. A hideous spike bursts from the water, diseased sludge crusting its deadly frame. The spike that knocked over the jet was instantly frozen there.
Darkus, who was walking in front, swung his scarlet sword and slashed at it. The sharp thorns turned into wilted powder as if they had been burned to a crisp, and the burned thorns in the distance receded again. Panic and despair surged in his stomach, and he kept shouting the runes belonging to the respective elves, venting his inner emotions until his throat hurt. The companions he called also responded loudly, and the team shouted, cutting down the surrounding thorns, trudging through the filth, and moving forward.
When Darkus vented his anger in the muddy water, a black spike suddenly stood up next to him. When he swung the scarlet sword to slash at the deadly spike, his arm froze in the air. He felt that all the strength in his body was exhausted, and he collapsed in front of the thorns, barely able to hold the sword in his hand and the barrier clamped on his forearm. The world became a dark smudge as tears streamed from his eyes.
The outline of the thorns disappeared in Darkos's eyes, and only the bloody spikes at the tips could be seen. The remaining parts were embedded in a soft body, passing through the thighs, abdomen and chest, and then hitting the side of the neck. . The body's head hung on the edge of the thorns, its eyes frozen with shock and pain. He stared at that face with an expression of disbelief. The body embedded in the wall was none other than Drusala. The pain of losing his lover was maximized in an instant, and he felt that he was being crushed by ruthless sadness. He collapsed, this unstoppable and irreversible sadness trampled him hard under his feet.
Darkus's heart was filled with pain and regret. Drusala's death was beating in his mind, like a sharp blade in the dark attacking him. Drusala's lifeless eyes stared at him. A silent accusation escaped Sarah's lifeless lips. His lover believed he would lead the team to glory, only to die here, his lover's soul being devoured by the gluttonous plague. He felt guilt tearing through him like the edge of a sword, bile churning in his belly.
Then, several other faces appeared in Darkus' mind, glaring at him with accusing eyes. Cowell's head was rotted, Baine's body melted and torn apart, and Alyssa's skull was crushed. The faces of his companions were replaced by marks of death and pain, as if silently accusing him of being unable to protect them and avoid a tragic end.
These phantom images lingered in Darkos's mind like a nightmare, each face representing his former companions. The accusing gaze pierced his soul deeply, despair overwhelmed him, and he felt an unspeakable regret and sadness.
Finally, Darkus fell to his knees, as if he was suffering from tremendous pressure from deep within. In this mud and silence, his heart fell into an endless void, and he lost the confidence he once had. At this moment, he seemed to have seen his inescapable fate.
What is the purpose? what's the function? Darkus doesn't seem like he should be taking part in this crazy adventure, but here he is anyway, trying to do something at all costs. But the result was the death of those companions who followed him. Those companions who believed that he would lead them to glory and victory would be swallowed up by the plague. He felt the scarlet sword burning in his hand, and the dancing flame seemed to urge him to end this hopeless farce. What is the meaning of death but to escape pain and escape the horrors of an evil world? Waiting for a new reincarnation and rebirth?
The distant singing sounded in Dacus's ears again. The singing seemed to come from an unknown distance, like a melodious wind blowing on his desolate heart. The song is like a ray of morning light passing through the darkness, bringing a ray of warmth. He raised his head and faced this charming and familiar melody. He let himself return to Itaza and found a trace of peace in the singing.
The song contains a mysterious power. The song penetrates through the darkness of the silt and penetrates into the depths of Darkos' soul. The melody seemed to have saved his soul and allowed him to find a glimmer of hope in the abyss of despair. His eyes shone with unusual brilliance, and he seemed to be immersed in the singing. At this moment, the singing was not only a melody, but also a guide, a navigation that allowed him to find himself again.
A blinding light exploded in Darkus' mind, and the faces collapsed into each other until only one remained, glaring coldly at him. He doubled over in disgust, pouring out the bile from his stomach. When the evil influence was purged from his mind, everything came back, and the team was still plodding forward, his body feeling the effects of the Plague Lord on him. Disgusted by the violation. The dark despair the Plague Lord stirred within him faded, and instead he was overwhelmed by rage at the deception.
At this time, Darkos's determination became even firmer, and he laughed. He felt the powerlessness and weakness of the plague lord. They can only use this despicable trick to try to force him to commit suicide. The reason why the Plague Lord did this must be fear, otherwise the hiding Plague Lord should have appeared long ago. Nothing could stop him now. He would let the Plague Lord know the price of doing so. He would listen to the Plague Lord's cries before he died.
The walls trembled again, and Darkus stared in disgust at the drooling mouth that formed on the wall. The mouths opened, and from the depths of decay emerged some beings that could only be laughed at. The faces of these creatures were ravaged by disease and became shaky, and their slippery faces were full of traces of despair.
The zombies clutched axes and swords covered with rotten pits in their hands. These pitiful beings groaned and approached the elves, with slime of excrement dripping from their feet. Their eyes were lifeless, as empty and confused as the dead, as if they were looking for something but destined to not find it.
Darkus felt an intense range, a twisted product of the dead and decay, chilling, and the wails and groans from within the fleshy walls filled the space. Before he could say anything, his companions standing beside him rushed forward like crazy, slashing at these walking corpses. He was ignited by the madness of his companions, and he roared and charged. The neck of the oncoming zombie was cut off by him, and the second one was disemboweled by him.
A small-scale massacre broke out quickly and ended quickly.
The team continued to march after the massacre, and the rotten hall of the palace appeared in front of them. The hall was constantly shaking, and the abominable life invaded every corner of this ugly building, as if this sick building itself was groaning. .
The walls were covered with maggots, and the pillars fused with bones were covered with gnawing pests. They rolled and crawled on the carrion, making bursts of disgusting noises in the horrific feast, adding a strange atmosphere. Feeling of nausea. Slime seeped from the walls and ran down the floor, trying to absorb them into the filthy substance.
As the team walked through the decaying halls, the hideous sights of flesh and bugs seemed to show the elves the twisted nature of this palace. Those damn screams and howls echoed in their ears, oppressing their souls. Their noses were constantly assaulted by vicious vapors, and they could feel their lungs growing darker as they breathed in the vapors. They could feel that the palace was constantly beating like a heart, as if the palace was a whole, and they had arrived at the core of the palace.
Soon, the elves were eroded by greater fear, and an unspeakable emotion was attacking them at a terrifying speed, a filth that was not only disgusting to the body, but also disgusting to the soul. Some of them fell to their knees, shivering in fear, and the floor shook with them. The poor beings buried in the walls let out sobs and wails, their voices echoing in the twisted space like ghostly lamentations.
Entering the hall was a shambling monster, a stumbling, slithering abomination. Even the places covered by its shadow had blisters, and where its rotting feet stepped, the mold instantly turned into despicable life.
"No wonder you are a bit unsociable." (End of Chapter)