I will be crowned king

Amidst the long ringing that penetrated his eardrums, Anson, whose eyes were red, resisted the dizziness and struggled to get up from the wall behind him. Hot liquid kept pouring out from the tip of his nose.

Lawrence, who was wearing a black trench coat, stood in front of him. His whole body was covered in a smelly dark red as if it had been washed by blood. His body, like broken glass, was covered with cracks from head to toe, but his right hand that was constantly bleeding was still holding " "Dagger" revolver, holding it tightly, pointed the gun at the black mage.

Anson, who was in a daze, took a second to understand the situation in front of him and everything that had just happened.

Laurence Bernat, this experienced inquisitor, noticed the existence of the black mage the first second he entered the secret room, but pretended not to; he also deliberately exposed a flaw in front of Bronn, giving himself the opportunity to shoot him. head.

As a result, Mace Honnard did not show up... If it were not for the power of the bloodline of the "Knight of the Wild Hunt", he would probably have been torn into pieces by now.

No, that's not right... According to "Research on the Three Old Gods", black magic cannot harm entities. Mace Honard's blow should still be a mental injury, which made Lawrence's consciousness "think" that he was torn into pieces. The shard... turned out to be alive.

He does not rely on the "power of blood" that gives him defense and weakens all harm, but the extremely powerful willpower that is tempered by the power of blood!

As for why the black mage didn't notice that he was still alive... Lawrence, who was a little arrogant in his steps, threw the mechanical box to Anson, and gently held the extremely delicate monocle on his face with his left hand.

"Anonymous glasses?"

A sarcastic smile flashed across the corner of Mace Honard's lips: "It turns out to be it, no wonder I was deceived... Now even the dignified inquisitors can use enchanted items, times have really changed!"

The pale Lawrence said nothing, and with a crisp sound of "Clang!", he pulled out the ax gun nailed to the ground, and the blood overflowing from his palm flowed along the gun body and the ax blade.

"And you went through all this trouble just to hurt one of my hands?"

The black mage said with a hint of sarcasm, slowly raising his bloody right hand and pointing the palm with a hideous blood hole and still bleeding at Lawrence and Anson:

"Seeing that a being who has surpassed you will also be injured and bleed, can it offset the fear in your heart a little?"

Boom——!

A loud noise rang in their ears at the same time, and the entire secret room began to shake violently as if it was about to collapse.

No, not the ears, but in the mind... Ansen's expression suddenly changed, and the vibration came from his consciousness.

"Anson, run!"

Lawrence suddenly shouted, and the "dagger" in his right hand roared at the black mage at the same time:

"Escape and lock the door!"

Lawrence Bernat, he wants to lock himself and the black mage together in a dark secret room more than ten meters underground in this cathedral!

The moment he took the mechanical box, Anson decisively turned around and ran towards the door.

Just as he turned around and ran away, the entire secret room began to collapse rapidly. The door in front of him exploded into several cracks without warning. Dark red plasma and green-yellow pus were mixed together and overflowed from the cracks.

A strange low roar like a ferocious beast came from behind the door.

After hesitating for a moment, Anson gritted his teeth and didn't bother to hide it. He directly imprinted [Rui Feng] on the soles of his feet and kicked it to the position below the door handle.

"Boom!"

The door that was supposed to be extremely versatile suddenly shattered, and the cracks that continuously overflowed with blood and pus revealed a huge, tumor-like piece of flesh, tightly wrapping his right foot in it.

The next second, countless small, fine, pore-like granulations sprouted out of the meat, and hard teeth-like objects grew rapidly on the tops of the granulations.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Anson was so shocked that he didn't even have time to feel sick. He immediately drew his gun and shot six times in the meat around his legs. The hot lead bullets continued to explode the blood mist and residual flesh on it.

Overflowing blood washed the floor under Anson's feet. Amidst the strong and suffocating stench, the cracked flesh behind the door gradually turned into a bloody mouth. Countless small tentacles stretched out from the mouth full of granulation, piercing the door. The seam came to Anson.

"puff!"

The bayonet protruded from his left arm, and Anson, who resisted the urge to gag, swung the blade, and one tentacle after another exploded in front of him, and the blood mist drenched him from head to toe.

"what are you waiting for?!"

Lawrence shouted from behind: "Run, Anson Bach!"

"I try my best!"

Anson, who was dancing with blades, gritted his teeth and said, "Don't you see..."

The words stopped suddenly, and Anson suddenly realized that Lawrence might not be able to see the twisted shape of the door.

Even the distorted world they saw was completely different!

With the help of "superpowers", Anson's mind reflected the scene of the battle between Lawrence and Mace Honnard: the blood-stained ferocious blade approached the black mage's figure again and again, but he was always easily dodged by the other party; the hot lead The bullet passed by, sending a helpless scream in the air.

Probably in his eyes, he was standing in front of the door, battling wits with the air.

If that's the case, it means that he doesn't have to hide anything anymore.

The silver bayonet pulling at the afterimage tore through the air and penetrated the bloody mouth full of fangs behind the door from the center of the crack.

"puff!"

The cold tip of the knife penetrated completely, and plasma and pus sprayed on Anson's body like a geyser. The huge piece of flesh shook violently, as if it was making a shrill wail.

Anson, who was desperate for the crown, did not give up. His right hand that penetrated the flesh continued to slide between the sticky and greasy flesh, going deeper and deeper.

The piece of flesh behind the door began to vibrate more violently, and flesh sprouts continued to turn into tentacles with fangs, attacking Anson.

"Puff! Puff! Puff! Puff..."

The sounds of flesh and blood being pierced and torn apart are endless.

Eyes, throat, chest, shoulder blades, arms, internal organs...

In the blink of an eye, he was soaked with his own blood from head to toe, and was covered in blood by countless tiny tentacles. His right arm, which penetrated into the bloody mouth, was pierced by countless fangs and flesh buds.

There was darkness in front of his eyes, and Anson, who endured the heart-rending pain, reflected in his mind the tragic situation he was in at this moment; the blood was constantly overflowing from his body, but he still maintained complete touch and pain.

Clenching his back teeth tightly, Anson took a deep breath.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!"

With unabashed screams, he forcibly broke his right arm.

At the moment when the muscles and bones were broken, [Condensing Flame] was imprinted on his right arm and the bayonet held tightly in his right hand at the same time.

Then he fell violently backward.

"boom!!!!"

The next second, flames burst out. The pieces of flesh that were constantly overflowing with plasma and pus struggled and howled in the blazing fire, disappearing without a trace in the blink of an eye.

Also "disappeared" were all the wounds from head to toe on Anson who fell to the ground. His torn right arm also returned to its original shape, and there was no sign of any injury at all.

Even the bayonet, which was supposed to be burned to ashes in the sea of ​​​​fire, lay quietly next to his hand.

No matter how many illusions the black mage can create, the false will always be false; the conjurer has the privilege of distorting reality - within a twenty-meter radius casting range, Anson can "defeat" Mace Honnard's " phantom".

This is how the Conjurer fights... It has nothing to do with strength, it is the essential difference between the two powers.

Of course, Anson is also very aware that curse magic has a time limit to distort reality, and it will stop when the spell is cast, but black magic has no such restrictions; he does not expect that relying on small magic like [Condensing Flame] will be a reversal and a " The key to victory or defeat between black mages of the "blasphemy mage" level.

But at least there is a glimmer of hope.

"boom!"

Another kick was given to the door of the secret room. This time, the door panel did not burst into cracks, nor did plasma and pus spill out from the cracks. The door opened in response.

What appeared behind the door was a twisted and spiral corridor, with countless shadows wandering in the darkness of flickering lights. From the darkness, ferocious tentacles and sharp claws stretched out toward the door.

The black mage's smile came from behind Anson.

"Anson Bach, my dear Anson Bach..."

Mace Honnard, whose shoulders were hunched, kept laughing, but his reserved and plain laughter was like a crazy and chaotic babble, mixed with countless noises and reverberations, resounding in Anson's mind.

"Do you think I will control the casting range within this secret room?"

"Do you think I tried my best to deal with you two?"

"Hahaha...my lovely student, even if you are ruthlessly betrayed, your innocence and simplicity will still impress me time and time again!"

Quickly dodging Lawrence's crazy and almost continuous fierce offensive, Mace Honnard's words sounded in Anson's mind without any ripples.

A judge with strong willpower that can "deny death", the black mage does not dare to completely hypnotize Lawrence, and he also has "anonymous glasses" on him. Although not strong, it makes it difficult for the black mage to concentrate on Lawrence.

As for Lawrence Bernat, who had "cheated" him, Mace Honnard did not intend to kill him immediately; he wanted to completely break the judge's will and drag him into the nightmare he created.

"The 30,000 thugs outside the red brick street have been hypnotized by me. Even if they are torn into pieces, they will rush into the cathedral and smash it into rubble."

"Your soldiers, the inquisitors of the Truth Seeking Order who are ambushing the cathedral... They have all been dragged into the illusion, and they are fighting in the endless illusion."

"So my dear student, you guessed one thing right - I am not just betting all this to take away the "Great Magic Book", I want all of this..."

"Annihilate them all!"

Anson stood in the darkness, his pupils becoming more and more frightened as the murmurs continued to be clear in his mind, and weird and twisted shadows attacked him from the spiral corridor.

The cold feeling spreading from his head to his spine was making him lose control of his body bit by bit.

"Don't listen!"

Lawrence's shout sounded again, and the cold ax gun launched a spiral barrage at the muzzle, roaring towards the black mage.

He didn't care whether he could hurt Mace Hornard, as long as he could hold back part of his energy and prevent him from leaving the secret room.

"He is trying to invade your consciousness. Once out of control, you will completely lose your ability to think and become the black mage's puppet!"

Lawrence is well aware of the Black Mage's methods. As the most experienced inquisitor of the Truth-seeking Order, he sometimes even feels unparalleled torture because of his "experience" - it is precisely because of these tortures that his will is as strong as a rock; No matter how crazy he is, the strange and indescribable hallucinations cannot make him lose his mind.

But he still said it was a step too late...

Anson's vision gradually solidified, and the world reflected in his pupils was quickly distorting into a chaotic color. His stiff, unconscious right hand struggled to lift up, and the bayonet that fell from his palm sliced ​​his wrist open, and he was completely unconscious. Unconscious.

"Snapped!"

A crisp finger snap sounded.

The next second, Anson, who was about to become a puppet, turned into a burst of translucent smoke, roaring into the spiral corridor with no end.

Since the distorted reality can contact the surrounding illusions, then in turn it can also release the control from the black mage!

Returning to normal from the smoke, Anson pulled out the "dagger" revolver from his arms, hid the mechanical box in his right hand, and pulled out a silver-white dagger from under the hem of his windbreaker, closing the door and firing straight ahead.

"Boom——! Boom——! Boom——!"

The screaming gun flames penetrated the shadows emerging from the darkness one after another, and the broken lead bullets continuously exploded into dazzling raging fires - each shot was imprinted with [Condensed Flame] by Anson.

The flying firelight constantly distorts everything in front of you. The towering secret room door is accompanied by the surging fire, intertwining and overlapping between reality and illusion.

But more and more shadows emerged from the darkness... Only a few at first, but with the continuous explosions and the modified reality, it was like a stress reaction, and they rushed towards Anson like a crazy group of rats in the sewer. , trying to stop.

"Pfft——!"

The silver-white dagger tore a gap in the shadows, but it was quickly filled by countless shadows; Anson, who had run out of ammunition, didn't even have time to reload his ammunition, and was struck endlessly in the corridor. Swallowed by endless shadows.

He knew very well that if he continued like this, the Lawrence he had fought with Brone before would be his fate. He would be bound and torn by shadows, and eventually turn into a puddle of shapeless flesh; and compared with his own willpower compared to the Inquisitor, Definitely far inferior.

Just when he was in a desperate situation, Anson suddenly felt an extremely familiar voice coming from behind him. His head, wrapped in shadows, twisted desperately and looked behind him.

It was a thin figure, running wildly in the endless spiral corridor, the rifle in her hand kept roaring, and the blood-stained bayonet was in front of her, splitting all the shadows and illusions in two.

"An-sen-!!!!"

The unstoppable fierce momentum and the shouting that penetrated everything made Anson completely confused.

"Sure enough, I guessed right..."

Mace Hornard, who was muttering to himself, suddenly raised his head. There was no surprise in his eyes as the illusion was shattered in front of Lisa, only endless excitement and madness.

"Lisa Bach, you are the blood descendant of the apostle August..."

"You are the last blood of August!"