Silent Crown Chapter 523: Holy Relics
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Boom!
The abyss is furious.
The majestic divine power blew out from the rift and impacted on the body of the giant with hundreds of arms.
This is before this, this is a miracle that no one has ever been able to see-the way'life' is ignited. Thousands of deaths are overlapped at this moment, and are imposed on the giant with one hundred arms.
If death can be quantified, then death that is enough to turn all humans, birds and beasts, and even vegetation in a whole country into ashes has arrived at this moment.
Death, rebirth, death, rebirth, death, rebirth...
It just circulates in the torture of purgatory.
Ye Lanzhou has no expression on her face.
"■■!!!"
Ludovich roared, the abyss shook, and roared with him.
Only this time, what he meant was better understood than just now.
——Let go!
Ye Lanzhou smiled and shook his head slightly:
"I only reacted now, is it a bit late?"
There is light.
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Asgard North Face Ice Field
From midnight to midnight, it is as bright as day.
There are clouds in the sky that have not disappeared for a thousand years. The iron-like cloud is glowing with iron-like light at this moment, as if a fire is lit in the cloud.
Countless small blades of ice and snow fell from the sky, with a stinging cold.
Ice and snow were swept in the hurricane and fell to the ground.
So between the heaven and the earth, only a piece of whiteness is left.
Only the faint fire light above the barrier was beating, burning, black smoke rising, thousands of lights, and thousands of black smoke rising into the sky. The smoke was stretched in the hurricane, intertwined in one place, and then returned to nothing.
It's like a burning soul dissipating in the wind.
And just between this bleak world, that countless smoky land, is engraved with patches of scarlet. Those frozen blood layered on top of the snowy field, overlapping each other, after hundreds of years, they are still as bright as ever.
The dead left their blood and soul here, turning them into that patch of color.
Now that piece of color is nourished by the new blood, and it seems to have come alive, like ashes are rekindled, like a flame, exuding the fascinating light of death.
Exciting.
Compared with that, the countless dead objects on the snowy field that have already lost their lives are insignificant.
That's countless demons.
The moment those demons set foot on the snowy field, they encountered unexpected terrifying power and were doomed to death.
Even if it is a terrible natural disaster.
In the center of the snowy field, at the deepest part of the spider web covered with ice and snow, the giant half-human half-spider still maintains its original standing posture.
But there is no more interest left.
It's still burning.
The cyan flame leaped on his head, dancing lightly with blood as fuel, but there was no temperature or even light.
It's like an illusion.
Scourge·Child of Spider.
The existence of terror that has slept under the North Wall Wasteland for hundreds of years is a huge threat to break the outer barrier.
But it had already died in an instant before breaking out of the ground, and even with countless heirs and descendants, even the countless spider eggs hidden in the frozen ground also petrified, and were buried together under the cyan flame.
On the battlefield at this moment, there are soldiers and musicians rushing to clean up the mess, but there is silence here, and everyone walks around the area in awe.
"——Worthy of being the King of Blue."
In front of the burning spider, two figures stood.
The young man in the cloak of the eagle emblem sighed softly. He wore a flimsy and dexterous robe, and the robe was white, almost integrated with the academy.
The five slender fingers with the black iron ring press on the commanding knife at his waist that has never been sheathed.
He seems to be sick, his face is not bloody, he looks like a girl, and he speaks slowly.
Not at all like an Asgardian, nor is he like the third emperor who has been sitting in the North Wall Wasteland on his own for ten years since he was an adult, and is ambitious and plotting the throne of the third emperor.
Instead of the arrogance and frivolousness of the past, he stood behind the gray figure, and his expression became respectful and gentle, full of awe, and from the heart.
The King of Blue.
Guardians of mankind and this world and pioneers of the dark world, well-deserved strongest, well-deserved...the king of musicians!
"It's so cold."
Bach looked at the natural disaster burning in front of him, and suddenly muttered softly: "I have been here so many times, but I still find it sad to be cold here. The wind is terrible, and the sky is gray, which makes my heart uncomfortable. Asgardians live here, it is very hard, right?"
"Although the wasteland is frozen soil, it can still feed people."
The third emperor said: "Dig out the top frozen mud, and the soil below will be able to sow. If you are lucky, you can cultivate for three months before the arrival of the cold current each year.
Although life is harder, at least it is better than death. "
"Unfortunately, every time you open up, all you can find is this kind of wilderness... Next time you go deeper, maybe you can find a warm place for you."
Bach whispered softly, turning his head, revealing his white beard and eyebrows: "When is it now?"
"A quarter past eleven, it's almost midnight."
"It's almost there."
Bach nodded: "Get ready to get started. I always wait and feel flustered."
"Yes."
The third emperor nodded and waved back, and a gray priest standing in the distance came forward.
The two priests are different from ordinary clergy. They don't wear the emblem of the Order, and they don't seem to be kind and gentle at all.
Wearing a teaching gown, but the inner lining of the teaching gown is sewn with nail pieces. There is a chain armor connecting the nail piece and the nail piece. It is not so much a teaching gown as it is a heavy piece of armor.
They had short beards and beards, shaved their hair, and replaced them with scripture tattoos extending from the neck and behind the ears.
On the back of the head, there is also a gear emblem of a variant of the holy emblem.
Chain Saw Brotherhood.
"These two are the holy relics of the Chainsaw Brotherhood." The third emperor introduced, nodding to the two of them: "Thank you for the sacrifice of the Chainsaw Brotherhood, the Asgardians and the Holy City Keep it in my heart."
"Everything is what you need."
The headed elder nodded, disrespectful to Bach, nor flattered to the third emperor, but said indifferently: "The sacred object that can only be used for worship is meaningless. In the final analysis, it is all one piece. Weapon to be used on the battlefield. If we can use the residual heat, we will be happy to see it."
The third emperor nodded, "So, did the two of things come here?"
The two priests glanced at each other, the man behind nodded, shed his robe, bare his upper body, knelt down on the ground, and bowed his head to the elder.
It reveals the scars on the back and the spine that has long been replaced by steel.
The elder drew out the dagger blankly, stabbed it out, and ripped his flesh and blood away. The blood gushed out and fell on the snowy ground into the bright red.
In the already semi-mechanized body, the black iron box was pulled out from between the gears.
After the hastily bandaged, the priest was left behind.
Everyone's eyes fell on the palm-sized iron box in the elder's hand.
"This is..." the third emperor asked.
The elderly nodded.
"In order to avoid leaking the news and concealing the characteristics of the sacred object itself, Yevgeny took it along the way." The elder delivered the iron box to the third emperor:
"There is a fire paint painted by the patriarch himself, proving that it is intact. Follow the patriarch's order and hand it over to you. Our mission is completed."
In silence, the third emperor took the dagger, pried the flame paint, opened the black iron box, took out the thing wrapped in silk and silk, and opened it carefully.
Finally, I saw the dark iron pieces sleeping in it.
Feeling the breath of the demon, it woke up, glowing with a faint golden flame, stinging people's eyes. The incomplete iron piece trembled slightly, burst out a whistle, echoed in the ear, like a long sigh.
"This is the last fragment of fate?"
The third emperor whispered softly, "How lucky it is to be seen."
Different from the destiny stele standing in the Holy City Square, there was a time when this was a unique ‘destiny’, a true miracle.
After the three kings of the first generation established the system of the sacred cauldron, using this as the foundation, they forged the divine weapon named ‘fate’-the spear of fate.
Based on this, mankind has opened up its own golden age.
And as a price, it fell, shattered, and fell apart in the first war between the sacred cauldron and the Hundred Eyes. The remaining three fragments of the world are also scattered in various directions.
The owners of the fragment are eager to repair it and restore its former glory.
The second-generation pope threw one of the fragments into the furnace, and sublimated the massive metal into the'star antimony' by alchemy, thus creating the saber of successive popes, the authority of the red king, the'gate of heaven' '.
The second fragment was later salvaged from the deep sea by the Knights of the Round Table.
The descendants of Arthur pin their hope of cutting off their fate, hoping that it can kill the curse in their blood and suppress the dragon's blood. Therefore, it was built as the holy spear of slaying dragons, and it was called the "Dragon Killer" and "Fallen Iron". Unfortunately, the final result was not satisfactory.
And this is the last fragment held by the Chainsaw Brotherhood.
"It's a pity."
The third emperor couldn't help but sigh.
A hand stretched out from the side~IndoMTL.com~ picked up the fragments of fate and held it in his hand: "There is no pity for dead things, as long as humans still exist, they can be recreated in the future."
It's Bach.
He gave the long stick in his hand to the third emperor: "Please step back, ordinary people can't bear the changes that take place next."
"I am also a musician."
The third emperor stubbornly stopped in place: "The best kind."
Bach glanced at him, smiled, and said nothing.
The next moment, the bass of the harpsichord played.
Like Hong Zhong Dalu, a big earthquake trembles, and the ether is turbulent. All music theory is involuntarily involved in that frequency and dances along with it.
The third emperor changed his face, hesitated, and took a step back.
Then, one more step. (To be continued.) Mobile phone users, please browse and read for a better reading experience.