Edge of the Apocalypse Chapter 1665: Yinian Zhizun (3)

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Darkness is like tide, wind, and fog. It is invisible and intangible, but it has a strong sense of existence, and that invisible sense of oppression fills the space.

Miro was still sitting there, and said lightly: "Stop playing with these pretending things for me, either come out or get out of it."

"What a great temper, worthy of the soul of the previous generation." A voice sounded in the darkness, and then the darkness began to gather and become human, and finally a black-haired and black-clothed man walked towards Milo. He has the same appearance as Ellen, but both his hair and pupils are so dark that he is desperate, but his skin is strangely pale.

Such a person, just sitting on the wooden pier where Allen sat down just now.

Blackware.

Miro smiled and said: "I know you, little guy. Although you are also a soul, but you have to respect me somehow, I am much older than you."

"How old is it?" The black weapon sneered: "Who has the big fist, who has the right to speak. Understand, old fellow."

Miro shrugged and said, "I know what you want to do, little guy."

"Oh? That's so interesting. I don't even know what I'm going to do. Do you, an old guy, know me better than me?" He hooked his finger: "Let's listen."

"You voluntarily split your own consciousness, leaving the secondary will in the source to ensure that the source is usable, while the primary will resides in Allen's consciousness, isn't that?"

"So what?" The black weapon asked back.

"If it is, it will be easy." Milo's face became colder: "As usual, your will should have disappeared now. But now you not only still exist, but also without my invitation, you can Enter my world on your own. Coupled with the great momentum you just made, it seems that instead of weakening, you are getting stronger and stronger. I guess you are improving yourself by absorbing Alan’s mental power?"

The black weapon applauded: "Old guy, you really have some knowledge."

"So I will continue to guess, your purpose is nothing more than to grow strong enough, to obliterate Alan's will, seize his body, so as to surpass the structure of the soul."

"It's terrible, let you guess what you want."

Milo said coldly: "You entered my world to discover Alan's consciousness. You want to take the opportunity to obliterate his consciousness. It's a pity that I found out when you came. After all, this is my world. "

"Yes, so for the convenience of the next time, you will die for me." The black weapon suddenly hit the table. The wooden table was split in two, and a dark war knife was pierced from under the table. The black weapon flicked at the blade, and the war knife slashed towards Miro. At the same time, he leaped up, shook his hands imaginarily, and slammed down, pulling out two black thunders and blasting towards Milo.

Miro didn't panic, opened his mouth and sprayed a white light on the saber, and the saber transformed by the will of the black weapon was immediately torn apart. At the same time, he had a meal on the ground, and even the people moved back with the wooden piers, causing two black weapons to blast on the ground. The ground did not explode, but collapsed downwards, forming an abyss without knowing where to lead.

The black weapon stood emptily above the abyss, both hands were emptied, and a pitch-black war knife was in his hand. The style of that saber is an anthem of destruction.

Miro smiled.

"Are you scared, old man?" Blacksmith said blankly.

Miro stretched out his hand and gently said: "If your hand is not an anthem of destruction, but an anthem of ashes, then I really have to think about how to deal with you. Unfortunately, what you can copy now is only an anthem of destruction. Obviously You haven’t grown up enough to control the hymn of the ashes. There is no need to worry about destroying you, but it’s just a matter of raising your finger.

"Really? Then let me see it!" The black weapon slammed his feet, dragging the saber and rushing towards Miro.

Suddenly thunder rang out in the air.

The black weapon raised his head, and his pitch-black pupils shrank slightly.

A sword falls from the sky.

Da Ruo Mountain Peak.

Slowly sink, unstoppable.

Bai Di Sword!

At the end of the sword, the sound of a big sword breaking through the air is like thunder rushing. There was a struggling expression on the black weapon's face, and finally he screamed, stopped his figure, and then the figure disappeared into the air like a bubble.

He left Miró's world of consciousness.

The priest raised his hand, and the Baidi sword in the midair disappeared suddenly. Flicking his hands again, the table cut open by the black weapon, the displaced wooden pier, and the deep abyss were completely restored. Milo walked to the tree, picked an apple, put it in his mouth, and looked very hesitant.

Finally shrugged and said to himself: "Forget it, if you need it, you can erase that guy at any time. It's okay to leave him with an object to sharpen Alan's will, but you have to find a chance to remind Click on him."

"I hope he can survive this time."

This is a black world.

The black land, the black mountains, the rushing Heihe, the black trees all over the mountains, and a black city. This world is so lonely, deep, and even desperate.

It has no life, as if hovering on the edge of destruction, it will slide into the abyss of immortality at any time. Perhaps one day, it will be fragmented and returned to nothingness.

Fortunately, not now.

So a ray of light passed between the clouds and fell on the ground, in the center of the black city. It is a light that is darker than darkness, a light that is deeper than despair, that is a black weapon.

This is the world of black weapons.

In contrast to Milo's light and windy world, the world of black weapons is as deep as his heart, without any light in sight.

The hustle and bustle was everywhere, and the black weapon stood up, looking at the black city, he suddenly yelled. The long knife in his hand swept a circle, so the city's buildings fell around him centered on him.

The sound of the black weapon is very loud, and it can be heard from thousands of miles away from the city.

Because of the loud voice, it spreads far and wide, which brings out the loneliness of this world. The black weapon released the knife and sat back. There was nothing in the back, and a throne rose from the ground just to hold the black weapon.

The black weapon is like a lonely king, with one hand on the armrest, supporting his chin.

He waved his hand, and the buildings he had cut back were restored. Waved again, people began to come out from the buildings. Men and women, old people and children, they are no different from human beings. But without exception, their hair is dark, their skin is dark, their eyes are dark, and their clothes are in a mess. These are not so much people, as they are shadows that move around.

The shadow moves around, busy like a real person. But whether it's the blacksmith who beats and beats, or the hawker who walks the streets, or the children who kick the ball. They didn't make any sound, and they shuttled around the black weapon silently.

Not only does the black tool feel less lively, it feels even more lonely.

A lonely world, a lonely city.

A similarly lonely soul is imprisoned.