Chapter 588
Words:1617Update:22/07/04 17:31:31
Allen fell backward and lay on the ground. He stared at the gray sky above his head and breathed heavily. He was like a fish that had jumped out of the water and landed on the shore. The helplessness and pressure almost suffocated him. He tilted his head, trying to relieve the unprecedented feeling of defeat. His gaze passed through the layer of black fog, and the gray wilderness came into his sight.
In the gray wilderness, there were gray figures. They were expressionless. They did not know how to cry, nor did they know how to laugh. It was impossible to read any emotional changes from their faces. The only thing that could be sensed was despair, boundless despair. These dumbfounded figures succumbed to the depression in the essence of this world. From time to time, some gray figures turned into irregular soul energy balls and flew into the distance, flying high into the sky. They were the meteors that Allen saw when he landed.
A strong sense of familiarity hit him. Allen, who was observing the scenery outside, realized that this was not the first time he stepped into this gray space. The longer he stayed, the less he wanted to leave. This feeling was exactly the same as the world he saw in the mind of the Dementor when he was experimenting with the Soul Catcher. This area did not look like the human world because it did not belong to the human world. Was this the underworld?
When the soul energy occasionally flew over the sky above his head, Allen observed through the enhanced vision of the attribute potions that the distorted faces of those people were faintly discernible in this ball of soul energy.
"Where is this? Do you know how to leave?" Allen did not give up on any possibility. He shouted at the souls.
Some of the faces in the soul energy were dull like dead fish and ignored him. But some were different. Allen could clearly see the mouths on the faces in the soul energy opening and closing as if they were telling him something. But the gray fog not only limited his vision but also suppressed the distorted voices. Allen could not hear what they were saying. He was not sure if they heard what he said.
Allen's fist fell on the black ground. He shouted and tried to decipher the meaning of the distorted lips. "Louder, what are you talking about?"
But what entered Allen's ears was a strange sound. The sound came from afar like a tide. Allen opened his eyes wide and looked into the distance, trying to see the source of the sound. However, the distance was too far, and the gray fog blocked his vision. He could only see that there seemed to be some undulating black waves moving slowly in the distance.
Alan closed his eyes in frustration. His heart kept sinking. Was he trapped here just like that? Was he going to let the despair that kept coming despite his best efforts to ignore control him and suck his vitality dry little by little?
After some time, Allen suddenly opened his eyes. He heard heavy, scattered footsteps and the sound of metal armor rubbing against each other. He got up from the ground and looked in the direction of the sound vigilantly.
The sound got louder and louder. Through the gray fog, some non-humans appeared in Allen's vision. The most eye-catching of these non-humans were the four knights in the middle, or perhaps it was more appropriate to call them the Death Knights. They looked like rotting corpses. Their faces were black skulls wrapped in rotten skin, and two red dots shone in their eye sockets. Some skeletons and zombies followed behind them stiffly. There were also Dementors in black cloaks floating beside them.
Seeing this, Allen could only hope that the black substance could not only imprison him but also protect him from these zombie-like creatures. But it was a pity that these non-living undead creatures weren't affected by the black substance at all. They walked right in.
Allen could not help but take a few steps back. He was not completely affected by this world. He kept thinking about what kind of spell he should use in case of conflict. But no matter how he looked at it, it seemed that the chances of survival were slim. Little by little, despair entrenched in his heart.
"Male Adept, I have come to collect my debt from you!" A Death Knight with a chainmail neck guard, a half-covered Viking helmet with incomplete golden hair, and a Viking braid on his beard approached Allen. His voice was cold and empty, like an echo from a deep valley. As he approached, one could see that although the center of his forehead was badly damaged, one could see that his facial features were rather handsome. He held a large round shield in his left hand and a Viking battle axe in his right. His chainmail robe and tattered leather waistcoat rustled as he walked.
"My Lord has allowed us to collect our debt from you. Thou shalt die today." Beside the Viking undead, there was another undead that was at least one size smaller. He wore an English decorative robe and was dressed in a Muggle knight from the 11th century. He raised the knight's sword in his hand. There was an arrow in the middle of one of his eyes. Only the feather of his tail was exposed. The other eye was staring at Allen with a terrifying gaze. The red in his eyes was obviously due to his anger, which made him look brighter than the other undead.
The other two knights, who were wearing the same clothes as them, were also wearing nose guards. One of them was particularly strong. He took a step forward and pulled out his sword. "Although I've actually received a favor from you, and this is not a personal grudge, but you must die today." The last knight who was shorter said, "Believer of a false god. You and I have never met before." Then he raised the short spear in his hand.
Allen, who was originally on guard, could not understand. "What debt are you collecting from me? It's your first time here. What debt do you owe? And from their clothes, I can tell that they have been dead for hundreds of years. Their accents are obviously from different countries. Believer of a false god? " Allen did not have time to think carefully. He even felt a little wronged. He had to make the first move to gain the upper hand. Before they attacked, he released a blazing flame without his staff.
But the undead did not even pause and rushed straight at Allen. Allen pursed his lips tightly. But the curse he could cast without his staff was basically ineffective on the undead. Even the flame that the undead were afraid of could only make them stagger a few steps. It could not even stop them from moving forward.
The Viking warrior did not give Allen time to think. He swung his axe at the left side of his neck. Allen barely ducked and dodged the attack. He then rolled on the ground, panting as he avoided the pursuit of the undead. However, the skeletons, zombies, and dementors formed a circle and surrounded him. They closed in on Allen little by little. Allen had nowhere to run.
The death knight who was dressed as an English knight had also rushed over. He stabbed the sword in his hand fiercely at Allen. Allen wanted to dodge, but he was physically and mentally exhausted. He was blocked from behind by the tall man wearing the Viking warrior's helmet. Allen's head tilted, but he was unable to dodge the opponent's attack, but the expected pain did not come. The blue membrane on Allen's body protected him. The death knight did not give up and continued to stab, but he could not hurt Allen at all.
First, set a small target. For example, one second. Remember: Book House
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