Orc Tyrant

He is a pilgrim from hell, standing on a towering tower formed by madness and pain and looking down at the army below.

Everything is ants and rats.

The grit-sized creatures are engaged in a holy war, using the final carnival to deliver the last sacrifice to the inexplicable dark power.

There was a smile on his tattooed face, and his neck was covered in armor.

The scarlet armor was cast from blood-stained weapons recovered on the battlefield. After countless battles, it has undergone countless repairs, and the brass imprint on it is always as new.

His sword was inserted beside him. It was a weapon forged from witchcraft and death that had drunk countless blood. It was named "Blood Tongue".

The claws he stole from his father were placed in the last fortress of the legion. The son of Horus called it the fortress of the Great Mausoleum.

He looked down at the frantic creatures below and realized

For a while, he was also one of them.

He served as a vanguard in the war, with a smile in the corners of his eyes and laughter on his lips when he killed.

However, at such a distance, he couldn't tell whether the army was at war or whether they still had a normal structure, but even a glimpse through the sand and dust could reveal the most conspicuous facts.

The power they gathered has no chance of winning when facing enemies whose numbers overwhelm them, especially Ouke.

Personal courage and heroism are useless here.

A battle can consist of tens of thousands of duels of individual souls, but it is impossible to win a war.

But victory is not the ultimate goal of this carnival.

The wind, as always, a traitor to the sky, brought the irregular fragments of the roar from the battlefield below to his ears.

And he let the wind blow by his side without any sense of guilt, as if he didn't care about his untied long hair flying in the wind, he didn't have any sense of killing and screaming.

The patriarch of the blood worship squatted down, holding the red sand on the ground in his hands.

His eyes never left the battlefield, even though he had no interest in who lives and died, the instinct of fighting still pushed him.

Below him, Ouke's rotorcraft hovered or flew over the battlefield, adding their burning breath to the frenzy of the battlefield below.

Ouke's war machine-only the size of his finger at this distance-traversed the crowd, and the flash of their weapons when they fired was still enough to leave a bright and dazzling trail in his vision.

He smiled, not because of the fight.

What is the name of this place?

He found that he didn't even know the answer to this question.

From the moment he separated from his sad brother, his curiosity led him to a strange land after another, avoiding his former brother, and embracing the road that belonged to him.

However, a question that suddenly appeared in his mind suddenly made him laugh.

How many warriors fighting, bleeding, and screaming below does he recognize?

The vast majority.

He didn't have any doubts about it, and at the same time felt ridiculous about it.

Sila stood up, opened his clenched fists, and let the wind blow away the lifeless dust in his hands. The dust formed from broken bones turned into mist under the bleak sun and disappeared from sight.

He looked towards the horizon, and seven huge bone towers rushed straight into the sky in the blood-colored sunlight. These creations were not made by the skills of humans or other races, but were formed purely by sacred ideas.

In his eyes, the landforms shaped by greed and hatred are more real than mortal craftsmanship or the magical work of natural laws.

He once crossed the bridge of annihilation, stepped on the suspended stone island, explored the tombs of alien races, did not take away the tiny bit of the priceless treasure inside, but gained endless knowledge.

He travels through hundreds of worlds where reality and illusion blend in the vast ocean.

What drives him is curiosity, what sustains him is hatred,

Once, all he needed was anger, but the promise of dark power has cooled this core.

Before the sun went down, so the five ring elders arrived at the tower and came to meet their leader.

"The soul storm has formed, under the crown."

Charles Manson knelt at the position closest to Thira. The once old man appeared to be extremely energetic at this time, and the power from the blood **** brand was increasing. They, the top leaders of the church, were the biggest beneficiaries.

However, some mutations also occurred most obviously in them, such as Manson's forehead with an upward curved horn.

"I can see."

Sila turned around, he was familiar with the storm.

He stared at the energy vortex in the center of the city, recognizing the opportunity that summoned him here.

This is the key to the feast.

Victory is vain. They only need to create wars, expand wars, let more people die, and let more blood overflow.

Be it the believer, the heresy, or the Ouke, they are just part of this **** millstone.

Dunwich is an opportunity, where the curtain will become extremely weak, enough to allow the invisible predators at the other end to pass through, and even drag the entire world into it.

The storm expanded at a speed visible to the naked eye.

It seemed to be willing to accept his understanding, it seemed that the destruction it caused was for his benefit, and most importantly, mocked him.

This storm once appeared in another place, but it quickly disappeared.

Now it is here, in another specific place in the world, waiting for him.

Now it seems that it is not huge, no more than one kilometer wide.

However, its scope of influence is far from being observed by the naked eye.

It is the destroyer of hope, the horn of threat, the mad promise. This storm has not completely broken through the real world, but the disaster will soon come.

"With millions of dedication, the blood **** will open his arms for us."

The whirlpool raged in the center of Dunwich, where it used to be the central square of the city, but now it is almost impossible to see what it used to be.

Its expansion is not completely regular, the storm is tumbling in one direction, and then in the other direction.

The spiral arms of energy collided, sending out a huge coronal arc toward the sky.

This chaos attracts attention and shocks the mind. It is formed by the nightmare of war and crazy thoughts.

It is not tangible, but it splits the gas stone.

It has no color, but it is dazzling darkness.

Thira glanced at the storm, looked away, and glanced at it again, trying to gauge its power.

The terrain on the edge of the storm was full of destroyed bodies and weapons.

The rifle and the arm are fused together, the head is stretched like a pale poisonous snake, several cars become one, with messy legs and feet, a broken statue becomes a big open mouth, and that The monster is trying to swallow its buttocks.

Many unknown monsters were born in the storm.

Although they were all furious, even though the screams and roars of the combatants were completely audible, the whirlpool itself was silent.

Some voices are still basically human, swallowed by madness and hatred.

The other voices were changed, and their timbre was completely abnormal, as if those shouting creatures had long teeth in their throats and long mouths on their tongues.

Together, they created a chorus of war, where the purpose of fighting has been lost, and all that is left is the desire for destruction.

As the storm expands, something is moving in the unbounded energy tide.

Sila could not clearly feel what it was, but it stirred the waves of the vast ocean, and poke out angry limbs from the depths of nothingness.

It acts with a certain intent to be destroyed.

As the storm expanded, Sila resisted the new temptations of victory and speed. His self-control and defense were unprecedentedly important. Any mistakes at this time would lead to some terrible consequences.

Then an "accident" happened.

Through his slender connection with the material world, Sila saw the elder Rosen of the Glory Star suddenly rushing.

He yelled something, but no one could hear it.

This powerful warrior jumped down from the tower, and then stood up unscathed, and then rushed across the battlefield where humans and Ouke exchanged fire, along the edge of the firepower net, and flew toward the storm.

A certain kind of energy surrounded him and became stronger, but it also made his limbs expand uncontrollably.

At this time, Sila finally sensed that Rosen responded to an order that forced the existence of the thin curtain of the material world, and that existence was not easy to be angry because he could not show up yet.

While running, Luosen suddenly grew many nodules, and part of the energy gathered by the storm hit his body.

His body changed completely with the light.

It grows and transforms into a huge monster, its limbs gleaming, and the surrounding rocks are blown into flames.

The body that used to be Rosen’s body has its feet turned into beast hooves, and the only organs on the skull are the big mouth full of sharp teeth and the nearly half-meter-high horns. The muscles swelled like marble and smeared thickly. The blood, black smoke and void flames scorched its skin, causing it to emit miserable

At the same time as the call, a pair of mottled brass armor was cast.

It howled in anger, plunged its hands into the storm, and then pulled out a huge one-person high blade, and then its left hand dissolved in the storm and turned into a trumpet-like shape.

This two-person monster placed the horn formed by bone and flesh on the side of his mouth that was enough to tear the entire face, and then blew it vigorously.

Um~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The huge howl pierced into the sky, and the last bit of blue in the sky disappeared in the blood in a moment.

Sila's face smiled again.

"The Holy Army of the Blood God is here."