I Will Be The Crowned King Chapter 63

"Old Gods... Even though thousands of years have passed, these ancient evil beliefs are still tormenting the world, sullying the whole world with their unique malice, allowing the most vulnerable souls to face the most hysterical madness."

"Wessam, an ordinary bankrupt farmer, a textile factory porter, a good husband and an incompetent father, encountered a temptation he could not refuse at the darkest and most desperate time of his life-- Like every wretched fallen."

"It's not that they didn't know it was poisonous candy. They knew very well that they were on a path of no return. Each of them was lucky and thought they would be the lucky one."

"Because before the moment you fall to the ground and your bones are broken... Falling is a seductive and pleasant thing..."

An Sen, who remained silent, watched the middle-aged man in front of him bow his head in front of the ruins.

The slightly slender triangle hat, the simple metal armor hidden under the leather coat, and the revolver with the exaggerated barrel of the opponent's right hand hanging next to the thigh... In the memory of "Former Anson", there is only one specific Organizations and groups of people will wear this clothing and use weapons beyond the reach of ordinary people.

Church of Order, Judge of the Inquisition.

The "Second Public Order Conference" in the forty-seventh year of the Saint Calendar gave up the Church of Order, which had the right to intervene in the secular world, but still maintained absolute control over religious beliefs.

The Inquisition is the highest manifestation of this power.

This is a group of "own people" that even the mad believers of the Ring of Order will never like - they are hunters, executioners, and they do everything in order to eradicate all existences that do not conform to the beliefs of the Ring of Order, and have "the right to judge independently" ” of the church enforcers group.

Well, basically the group of guys Anson didn't want to deal with.

If the knights of the ruling still need to tell evidence, the priests of the Church of Order have to arrest people... The judges of the Inquisition only need a word of "doubt" is enough.

An Sen, who was trying his best to calm his breath, stood up from the ground, stared vigilantly at the judge who was always talking to himself, and didn't seem to notice him, and deliberately showed a slightly flustered expression:

"Well, may I ask..."

"five minutes."

The middle-aged man suddenly raised his hand to interrupt An Sen, and with his free left hand, he took out a pocket watch with metallic luster from his coat:

"Five minutes before the forty-minute effect of the 'Death Horn' potion ends."

"Before that, Wissam, who was mutated by taking the potion, and the infected because the potion was spread in the air - including those corpses - could be hurt, but they couldn't really be killed."

"My companions and the guards have blocked the surrounding area, and the rest is to try to drag the last five minutes; give him the final fatal blow, and... although I don't know who you are, please try to live as much as possible. "

The middle-aged man sighed again, and while slowly looking sideways at An Sen, he pointed his right hand behind him: "I'll give you another piece of advice: if there is a battle next, you may need this thing."

Following the direction pointed by the other party, An Sen turned his head and looked at the flintlock axe that was nailed to the wall, and the entire axe blade did not penetrate the wall; An Sen, who hesitated for a while, smiled reluctantly at the other party, and gestured to the right hand. Revolver:

"Thanks, but I'm still more confident in my marksmanship."

Well, mainly because it's a bit inappropriate to say "can you help me pull it out" at such a time...

The middle-aged man nodded slightly, without any insistence, quietly looking at the pocket watch in his hand and waiting.

"boom--!!!!"

During the conversation between the two, there was a sudden loud noise from the ruins in front of them, and the collapsed and buried ruins cracked instantly; along with the air waves blasting around, a figure appeared in the scattered smoke.

Slowly lowering his raised arm, An Sen's wide-eyed expression revealed a flash of surprise.

The "Wissam" who walked out of the ruins was covered with blasted bullet holes. Only empty broken sleeves were left on his right arm and left leg. Most of the calf of his right leg, which was used to support his body, was also cut off. The arms are twisted out of shape at all.

His thoracic cavity was blown away without a single intact muscle and rib, and the lung lobes and internal organs that should have been in the center of the torso were only a pile of unrecognizable minced meat hanging on the bones; two or three holes were punched through. The heart does not know what support it relies on, and it is still beating in its proper position.

There is only a still intact head, supported by only the left half of the neck; the eyeballs dragged from the eye sockets dragged two long fleshy sac-like "tentacles", which had just been cut off by the middle-aged man. One of the wounds was still twitching, and a dark yellow liquid with a strong stench was gushing from the wound.

Although he is already dead to the point of death, he still has life.

Almost as soon as he saw the other party, Anson immediately thought of a certain imperial knight who was wielding a tearing sword and also thirsty for fresh flesh.

In the next second, with the open mouth and the continuous overflow of blood plasma, a shrill scream exploded from Wissam's throat.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah. - !!!!"

Almost as soon as the voice sounded, An Sen, who did not hesitate at all, squatted down decisively and covered his ears with his hands.

Feeling the piercing pain and the almost uncontrollable dizziness, Anson, who clenched his teeth, raised his head desperately; unlike himself near the corner, the middle-aged man who was almost standing in front of Wissam was pale and stood still. His body was shaky as if he was about to fall, and the blood vessels on his forehead burst out one by one.

Amidst the piercing wailing sound, the motionless middle-aged man was like a puppet driven by gears, his right hand holding the revolver was lifted little by little, and he aimed the dark muzzle at Wei. Sam's chest.

"boom!"

The gun flames spewed, and the middle-aged man seemed to be thrown out by a huge force, and slammed straight into the wall behind him, smashing the old cheap.

Almost at the same time, the flying lead bullet opened a blood hole in Wissam's chest again, this time close to the collarbone; the gushing blood plasma was mixed with broken bone slag, so that only half of the neck was left to support him. His head was shaky, and his battered body collapsed to the ground.

The next second, a strange low roar sounded from between the rubble and the ruins of the newspaper hall; one after another unwilling to die hand stretched out from the dark blood, dragging the already cold dead body to climb out of the dried blood pool. .

They swayed, crawled, and wriggled, gushing from every corner of the hall, raising their frantic faces like flesh-hungry ghouls, approaching from the darkness.

The collapsed Wissam twitched, his **** body wriggled, staring viciously at the middle-aged man who was stuck in the wall with his only remaining eyes, his blood-gushing mouth was still mourning:

"why?!"

"Why, why do you have to put me to death?!"

"What did I do wrong?! What did we do wrong?!"

The heart-piercing roar seemed to be some kind of horn, and the living dead all over the hall rushed towards the middle-aged man nailed to the wall like a madman.

"boom!"

One shot exploded the head of the nearest living dead, and Anson, who drew the bayonet from under his sleeve with his left hand, rushed straight up.

Although he doesn't know this middle-aged man at all, and he doesn't have a good impression of the trial that is likely to arrest him regardless of life or death like the guards, but now he can't stand by and watch this person who may only know how to get rid of it." The Inquisitor of Wissam was eaten by the living dead!

There are guards outside the door, and the archbishop's daughter in the attic on the ground floor; no matter what happens next, it is best to fight side by side with this middle-aged man right now.

The roar of the revolver resounded in the empty newspaper hall again, and Anson, who kept pulling the trigger, "called" the living dead close to the middle-aged one by one; the living dead who sensed the danger immediately turned around and roared towards the spit gun. Flame's figure left.

"We just want to live!"

"We just want to live like everyone else in this city!"

"We already have nothing, why don't we even get the right to live?!"

Seeing the hordes of living dead rushing towards him, Wissam's unwilling cry of grief sounded again in Anson's ears, whose scalp was numb.

His right hand stretched out to the ammo bag behind his waist, and there was nothing but a round column in the empty bag.

The next second, the black shadow pulling thick white smoke was thrown from An Sen's left hand.

"boom--!!!!"

The bursting flames instantly illuminated the entire newspaper hall, and the living dead, wrapped in flames and heat waves, wailed mournfully, and continued to rush towards An Sen from the sea of ​​flames desperately.

Right at this moment...

"puff!"

The tearing sound of flesh and bones rang in Anson's ears. The middle-aged man wielding a flintlock axe in one hand stood in front of him at some point, and the cold axe cut the living dead in two.

"well done!"

The middle-aged man who shouted loudly raised the exaggeratedly large revolver against the surging fire, and protected An Sen behind him: "There are only two minutes left, leave the rest to me!"

"Keep calm and stick to your heart!"

The hoarse and somewhat dejected voice was shouting the most calming words at this moment.

At this second, An Sen, who was looking at the opponent's back, suddenly couldn't help but admire him - although he had absolute certainty to avoid the living dead who had just rushed out of the sea of ​​flames, the other party could also throw himself and go straight to the target.

But this "admiration" only lasted for a second...

"And... try not to get hurt!"

Um?

This inexplicable reminder made Anson's expression stunned; while he was still confused, the middle-aged man directly revealed the answer:

"The horn of death is a potion that can be spread through body fluids and droplets, and there is a 1 in 10 chance that it will cause infection!"

"Once an ordinary person who has not taken antibodies in advance is infected, the chance of the body mutating is 100%!"

I... shouldn't this kind of thing be reminded from the beginning? !

Resisting the urge to shoot the black gun from behind, An Sen, who was a little darkened, immediately shouted:

"I know!"

The middle-aged man who got the answer seemed to have received some kind of signal, waving a flintlock axe and rushing into the sea of ​​​​fire. Paved a path of blood in the sea of ​​fire.

"clang!"

A dull metal collision sounded, and the flintlock axe that fell and the horn gun in Wissam's left hand collided; the twisted and disfigured left arm held the handle of the gun in a posture that a human being absolutely could not do, from the socket of the eye. The outstretched eyeballs stared at the middle-aged man unwillingly:

"why?!"

The wailing Wissam screamed: "What reason do you have to kill me?!"

"Everything I do is just to live! I haven't killed anyone!"

The indifferent middle-aged man still didn't answer his question, and his left hand holding the handle of the axe pulled the trigger of the flintlock axe.

"boom!"

The shattered projectile spewed out from the muzzle, mixed with the flames spurting from the muzzle, and hit the center of Wissam's chest!

At the moment when the blood splattered, the remaining heart and the only remaining flesh were torn apart in the storm of dozens of lead bullets; the battered vertebrae let out a whimper in the impact; Scream stuck in throat.

Wissam, who was almost completely bloodless, fell to the ground again, and only his eyes wrapped in tentacles floated in the air.

"why……"

The corners of the bleeding mouth opened slightly, and a low whimper was emitted.

In the next second, the revolver in the middle-aged man's right hand touched the top of Wissam's head.

"Let me go, I can tell you a lot of things..." The trembling eyes seemed to have suddenly noticed something, and began to beg the middle-aged man:

"I can tell you the whereabouts of the Black Mage, and where we often meet; I have seen his true face, I know what other gangs he controls, and I know..."

"Weissam."

The middle-aged man spoke without warning, and interrupted the other's plea for mercy with a sigh:

"You are an ordinary bankrupt farmer, a porter in a textile factory, a good husband and an incompetent father, and a gang leader willing to compromise on life."

"When you were on the verge of despair~www.mtlnovel.com~ you chose a road of no return, pinning your hopes on the illusory promises of the evil old gods, and became a **** used by the opponent, and you ended up with a chess piece that has never been seen since the beginning. an outcome that could be avoided.”

"I, Lawrence Bertolt, in the name of the Inquisition and the authority bestowed upon me by the Ring of Order, hereby declare:"

"Your depravity ends here."

The voice fell, staring at the eyes full of pleading, the middle-aged man solemnly pulled the trigger.

"boom!"

The hot lead bullet sank into Wissam's skull cavity, the skull mixed with scalp and minced meat shattered, and milky-white blood plasma spurted out in the direction of the muzzle.

This time, Wissam, who was riddled with holes, did not get up again.

Standing in the back, An Sen silently looked at the back of the middle-aged man, still talking to himself:

"Your sins are all atonement."

Chapter end