Mystery: The Ancient God is Actually Me Chapter 97

"We are all the same."

"Children stumble out of the darkness and grow up under the blessing of the stars. After he has seen everything in the world, he will eventually return to the darkness and return to the embrace of the goddess."

Klein, wearing a double-breasted coat, stood reverently in the corner of the cemetery. Most of his figure was hidden by the tall tree trunk in front of him. He was almost buried in the surrounding environment.

The branches had already begun to wither, but under the still dense canopy, there was only an old corpse covered in a white single-clothed body lying quietly in the slightly closed pit, next to the fresh mud with a hint of moisture.

For the most basic prayer last night, Klein picked up the chain-blade cane beside his feet, and bit by bit, with a little effort, he buried the small soil next to the simple grave.

In the past, the pastor of the church was responsible for this kind of thing. At most, I heard Frye talk about the general process, and then I observed my own funeral on the gray fog. There should be no mistakes in the steps... Yesterday In the last step of the evening, he collected the various ritual supplies scattered all over the place and put on the "substitute" gloves that were temporarily placed in his pocket.

Although 12 hours have passed since the time of death, and the remaining spiritual body on the corpse has dissipated, Klein still used the power of the gray fog to restore part of the truth.

In the dream divination, he saw distorted movements, figures dancing like epilepsy, and more blurred, upside-down black pyramids.

In occultism this is a standard Reaper trait.

That kind of alternative epilepsy dance should be the so-called spiritual dance of the Spirit Religion Corps and the believers of the Death God, and it really has a certain effect on the surrounding corpses... Klein, who had sorted out his clothes, looked at the half-marked half. Withered tree, his right hand rubbed a small metal tube, his thoughts diverged.

This was originally a container for spiritual dew, but now only under the light, can you vaguely see a few strands of hair.

"Isn't this really a trap? What kind of Beyonder would have no brains to leave his hair on the corpse he accidentally woke up?" Klein looked at the metal tube in his hand in confusion, frowning slightly, connecting it into a a straight line.

To be honest, he seems to smell a strong arrangement now and is very scared.

I came to this cemetery on a whim today, in order to determine how much Azik's copper whistle could affect the corpse.

Then, when there was no sign of spiritual intuition, he was discovered by the grave guards who patrolled in the middle of the night, and he was almost "attacked" by the corpse.

In the end, the corpse still had hair that fell out during the ceremony of the suspected members of the Spiritual Religion.

It doesn't look like a mere coincidence!

The cemetery in the middle of the night was extremely quiet, with crows flying by vaguely, but only the sound of flapping its wings for a moment. Klein, who had pulled out from the cemetery's border wall, was looking for a hired carriage, but he couldn't calm down.

"Since killing Maric with Miss Sharon, Mystery has never spoken to me through the so-called half-body connection, and I didn't see him when I boarded the gray fog this time."

"It seems that the strangeness that appeared on him before did a lot of damage to him, and it hasn't recovered yet?"

After struggling for a long time, Klein, who vaguely saw the light of the horse lamp hanging in front of the carriage, heaved a sigh of relief, raised his free left hand, and ended the storm in his head.

Recently, the main energy is still to focus on Lanvus, and then there are the underground ruins of the Pound family's old house, as well as the Cappin who has not been determined with Mike today, and the Crazy Ripper, and the rotting male corpse, and also Have......

He kept recalling the things he needed to pay attention to recently, as if only in this way would he be able to move on and maintain his current life.

Also, what else is going on?

Klein slowly boarded the carriage, kneading his temples, and the previously forgotten memories gradually attached to his mind.

In the darkness outside the window, a graceful figure dressed in white gauze slowly emerged from the shadows. Her face was blurred, but it only vaguely revealed a sweet and seductive aura.

Boom!

The heavy chain-blade cane suddenly slipped from Klein's hand without warning.

In the quiet night, the time is approaching the early morning, and the full red moon is about to hang high in the dim night sky.

In an unmanned factory building of a garment factory in St. George's District, on the carefully cleaned open space, nearly ten mysterious people dressed in black robes sat in a group with solemn expressions.

In the center of them, a heavy dark black coffin was more than half submerged in the ground, scarlet patterns spread like vines on the earthy yellow ground, and the faint brilliance was rhythmically jumping, like a beating heart.

There are many gold ornaments with traces of soil around, candles flickering with pale flames condensing the spirituality in the air, and the skulls stacked into peaks are extremely strange.

Some of these skulls are derived from humans, but most of them are still common animals around Backlund, but they are more deformed.

Directly in front of this skull hill, a tall middle-aged man who was also wearing a robe but did not pull up his robe stood upright, with his arms raised in the air, his right hand tightly holding a red-faced man who kept kicking A fat man struggling with his feet.

The burgundy pajamas on his body were messy, the sweaty Magat fat hands kept clenching the fingers tightly around his neck, and the wide eyes were bloodshot, almost jumping out of their sockets.

"Patrick Brain!"

He knew this man who broke into his office inexplicably and kidnapped him like a ghost.

Just the owner of several ready-to-wear factories, when did he have such an ability?

With profound facial features, black hair and brown eyes, a slender face, and a rather gloomy temperament, Patrick stared indifferently at the sacrifice in his hands, his voice low.

"The blasphemous thief should have sacrificed his life to the great **** of death to make amends. If you want hatred, hate your own greed."

His clenched right hand kept exerting force, and with a click, Magath, who was struggling a second ago, lost his life in an instant, his fat body hanging in the air like a broken puppet.

The indifferent Patrick threw it forward, his body wrapped in crimson pajamas fell heavily, and landed impartially in front of the hill where the white skulls were stacked.

With a burst of pale flames rising, Magath's body quickly decayed, and in just a few seconds, it seemed that he had been dead for a long time, leaving only scattered hairs and bones lying on the filthy liquid.

"If it wasn't for the fact that you didn't trust the doctors in the hospital, this ceremony could have been held earlier..." Patrick said indifferently, and threw his left hand, which had been hanging beside him, and the sculpture of authority made of human bones was suspended in the air. , actually rose slowly against gravity and floated on top of the White Bone Mountain.

Ever since he accidentally learned at a banquet that the new president of the "Daily Observer" had a large collection of antiques from the Southern Continent, which even included ritual items that were once used to worship the God of Death, he had been planning to bring this abominable Blasphemers offer sacrifices to the underworld.

He looked around the surrounding believers who bowed their heads and prayed devoutly, and slowly recited a series of obscure words of the dead, with a rhythm.

If it hadn't been done by himself this time, this abominable blasphemer might still not have received the punishment he deserved.

These subordinates are too stupid. They were clearly asked to investigate the hospital that Magath frequented, and they kidnapped and took away when they got the chance. As a result, they carried out three actions, and they were not **** once until they were targeted by the Church of the Storm!

Patrick, who was often praised by his teachers for his ability, had a headache. When he thought of the thin old man who was kidnapped recently, he had an urge to turn these believers into slaves of the dead.

I don't know where the corpse of the old man who I asked them to deal with was transported there...

"You are the essence of death."

"The monarch of the dead."

"The final destination of all living beings."

As Patrick began to recite the honorable name symbolizing the **** of death, the hooded believers around jumped into a slightly twitchy, rather epileptic, rhythmic dance.

They used the spirit dance to communicate the relationship between their spirituality and the ceremony. In the empty warehouse that was arranged as an altar, waves of gloom emerged from the air, the pale colors infected the surrounding, and the flames on the candles swelled excitedly.

The dance became more and more intense, the coffin in the center of the ceremony trembled violently with the rhythm of the dance, and the scarlet veins spreading on the surface returned to dim at this moment, leaving only a piece of charred black.

Finally, the coffin in the center could no longer support the power of the feedback from the altar. The rather heavy coffin burst in an instant, and the splashing dark black fragments hovered in the air, as if blocked by an invisible palm, unable to spread.

Under the blessing of the pale flames that spread without warning, the fragments of the coffin burst and regrouped in the air, quickly forming a huge door mixed with fantasy and reality.

Inside the door frame composed of wooden thorns and pitch black, the mottled bronze door was hazy and illusory, and with an extremely heavy sound, it slowly opened, revealing the nothingness behind it.

The believers who were dancing frantically fell to the ground one by one, playing the role of bishop. Patrick, who was presiding over the ceremony, suddenly felt a huge pressure, and his body trembled involuntarily, as if he had encountered pressure from nature.

In the splendid nothingness, the upside-down pyramid is looming, and there is a sound of rushing water from time to time.

The bleak gray-white mist spread from the door, gradually infiltrating reality, and an arm that was not very real slowly stretched out through the power of this strange mist.

It raised its hand at will, and the pale skulls piled up in the open space flew up together with the corpse of Magath who had just died, and turned into powder in an instant.

Pure spiritual power was attached to the sculpture of authority just thrown by Patrick, like a sharp knife, changing its image.

Under the transformation of external force, this ceremonial stub became gradually slender, like a pillar supporting the dome in the palace, with harmonious proportions.

It flew upside down into the door under the gloomy and gloomy wind, and flew into the unreal arm.

"Hahahahaha..."

I don't know when Patrick, who was already prostrate on the ground, pressed his forehead against the ground, and his body trembled when he heard the harsh laughter.

boom!

The door where the unreal and the real were mixed slammed shut, and Patrick, who was crawling on the ground, quickly got up, spreading his spirituality.

In the darkness in the distance, still affected by the different phase just now, the trembling spirit body approached rapidly.

They are all dressed in illusory clothes like dresses, hanging beside each comatose member, and after confirming that no one died, they took their place.

"Just now, did God recover further?" Patrick opened his lips slightly, but found that his voice was extremely dry.

He felt his own state, and under his tall and energetic appearance, the strong spiritual body had a tendency to break down.

In just the short dozen or so seconds in the ceremony, he seemed to have advanced a long way in the long life of the "undead", and felt a kind of aging from the essence of his soul.

Woo!

A gust of gloomy wind blew, and the hoods of the believers lying on the ground were blown off, and their hair was gray.

Patrick, who couldn't help throbbing in his heart, didn't dare to delay, and decisively opened his wrist, and the bright red blood gushed out, filling the lack of spiritual materials missing in the ceremony.

The undead servants around him cooperated with his actions, their bodies trembled, and they danced a spiritual dance.

The honorable name symbolizing a "Death Consul" was quickly spit out from Patrick's mouth, and the blood dripping on the ground changed accordingly, forming a unique symbol of the underworld.

"The sect has lost a 'ferryman', and has suspended its influence on the awakening of God?" Patrick, who was wearing a black robe, froze in place, his eyes that originally expressed the tranquility of the night filled with fear.

"Respected Mr. Fool~www.mtlnovel.com~ I have prepared the information on Ruen's dilapidated nobles requested by Mr. World, and now I ask you to help me transfer it."

Klein, who had already taken off his human skin mask and was packing his luggage, was preparing for tomorrow's move, stopped what he was doing, turned his head and listened to the phantom layered sounds in his ears, and muttered to himself.

"So soon, didn't Miss Justice say three or four days?"

He put down the clothes in his hand, walked into the bathroom familiarly, took four steps backwards, and came to the top of the gray fog.

Klein, who was sitting at the top, looked around habitually, but still found no trace of the "secret" activity.

Although if He didn't want to see me, it would be impossible for me to find Him, but I always felt uneasy when I couldn't see anyone... Klein was rarely worried about his own body.

He shook his head and raised his hand slightly, because Miss Justice's sacrificial ceremony had already formed the sacrificial door opened, and a neat stack of paper flew out from it and landed firmly in his hand.

Immediately afterwards, he showed the appearance of "The World" praying devoutly, and passed this image to the crimson star symbolizing Miss Justice.

Alas, if "Mystery" is awake, He should be happy to help me with these tasks... Klein, who is sitting in a relaxed position, fantasizes about the unlikely scene, and flips through Miss Justice. information sent.

He doesn't intend to bring these to reality.

Secretly hiding the information of so many dilapidated nobles, once exposed, Sherlock Moriarty's name will be on MI9's desk.

At that time, the first person to deal with himself is Mr. Aigron downstairs!

(https://)

Please remember this book's first domain name: . Mobile version reading website:

Chapter end