Orc Tyrant

The chosen lord Molière left the gyroplane first, and stepped firmly down the ramp that was lowered by the airplane's belly. Then he took off his helmet and took a deep breath.

The air was full of pollutants, smoke, and heavy corruption, and the Lord of God's Choice smiled suddenly, revealing his mouth full of fangs.

Since the opening of the Brass Door, great changes have been made here.

In the past week, he has been busy defeating other New California Republic forces far away from the city, ensuring that no other military forces around Dunwich can counter the blood worship plan.

And since the signs of apocalypse appeared, the New California Republic has raised the banner of blood worship jihad everywhere. Although there are still dozens of resistance blocks scattered throughout the Republic, no single force can pose a real threat.

This country has been completely finished, and it is only a matter of time before it is completely thrown into the arms of the blood god.

He walked down the steps of the tarmac and noticed that the surrounding scene had changed dramatically from a week ago.

Even the Dunwich Cathedral not far away has changed a lot.

The spire that once engraved the outline of the fort was demolished and replaced by iron pillars full of spikes with countless corpses.

Molière saw many skinless enchanters inhabiting between the corpses. These vicious monsters were constantly screaming and fighting each other for the best habitat, and they tore the corpses on the iron pillars and spilled their internal organs. The earth is all.

The purple-red lines covered the original flat and gray walls of the church. Molière was very happy to see that the walls of the promenade he passed by were painted with the symbols of the great blood god.

When he reached the end of the passage, he nodded to the guards standing on either side of the towering glass doors, and then walked through them into the large, gorgeous terrace.

Sila, who looked down at the city below, didn't seem to notice his arrival.

Molière walked to the side of the patriarch and knelt down.

After a while, Sila put her hand on his head.

"The invincible blood **** bless you, my lord, be flat, you have fulfilled my requirements and returned."

There is no question in his words. After all, for Molière, he has no need to return unless he has completed his assignment.

"There is no resistance around Dunwich to interrupt our preparations, sir."

Molière said in a deep voice:

"I also brought back nearly half a million slaves to put into the project."

"Very well, the residents of this city are too weak. We consume more than 10,000 people every day."

"Unbelievers are already weak."

Molière replied contemptuously:

"In the future, we will defeat the upcoming Oak, just as we defeat the sad resistance of those unbelievers."

"I believe you are right. We will crush these unbelievers. After all, they are very weak when they are alone. That's right."

Sila said thoughtfully, her eyes drifting toward the expanding whirlpool, and a towering brass gate in the center of the whirlpool was gradually taking shape.

"But this is not the case when they are united. Only through provocation can we weaken them, so we need to continue to spread sects... When unbelievers fear enemies from within their own cities, they will be vulnerable. "

"I understand, sir, but I don't think the new elder understands this."

"Ben Lier does not need to understand. He is the marshal of the Holy Blood Army and can perform his duties perfectly."

After the conversation started, he turned his unfathomable gaze to Molière for the first time.

"You have to know that it was his act of betrayal against the unbelievers that brought more than one million slaves and the entire ceremony."

Sila said softly, looking carefully at the chosen lord.

"He is, always has, a more important role than you."

Molière tried to stay calm, but his jaw still clenched slightly.

He saw the evil taste in Sila's eyes, and seemed to enjoy making himself feel uncomfortable, just like what he has always done inside the church.

"You are still ashamed, right?"

Thira asked cruelly.

"I have always been able to replace him, if you are willing to give me a chance."

Sila smiled softly, cruelly and ruthlessly:

"We all know that is a lie."

Molière clenched his fists, but did not refute his patriarch.

If there is a person who can make him more fearful than devotion to the blood god, then only this seemingly not strong man in front of him is a person who can always hold everything in his hands.

Molière had participated in seven rebellions against the patriarch, and all his accomplices died, only he was alive.

Because Sila seemed to enjoy his frustration, and after the seventh defeat, Molière also realized that it was meaningless to oppose the other party's evil tastes, so he was completely resigned.

But this did not allow him to completely get rid of the opponent's ridicule.

Sometimes he wondered why such a treacherous person would become the messenger of the blood god. Shouldn't this position be held by the bravest warrior?

The taste of the blood **** is also strange sometimes.

"Come."

Sila placed a strong hand on Moliere's weather-beaten shoulders and turned him towards the raining city.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? The first corner of the gate has been laid, and the blood and mud have been spilled. The deaths of 88,888 pagans have consecrated the land... the gate will break through. Skyrim, please the blood **** and turn this world upside down."

Then he turned to Molière, a hungry smile crawling on his **** lips.

"The time is approaching, the red star is gradually approaching, the pillar of shouting rises, the sound of the underground trembles, and what is placed in the holy cellar will be destruction and death."

Molière frowned. These sentences did not exist in any chapter of the great works of the blood worship patriarchs, nor were they written by the patriarchs of the past.

As a god-chosen lord, he was required to worship the blood bible like any priest.

In addition to killing in the name of the blood god, or assisting the priest to guide the hearts of believers, he spends his time studying ancient books-in addition to ritual confession, self-flagellation, and contemplation.

However, he had never heard the motto quoted by Sila.

"This is not recorded in the blood cellar library."

Thira looked at Molière with a mysterious smile;

"This proverb is only included in one place, a book that does not exist in the mortal world."

Molière felt his frustration aggravated.

"A great enemy army is gradually advancing."

Suddenly, Sila narrowed her eyes and said with a hiss.

"They are right under our feet, but I can feel a terrifying legion passing through the waves of the vast ocean... They will arrive soon."

"Why don't you let us attack their underground passages, or we can seal them underground."

"No, I don't want to risk my precious troops in meaningless battles."

"The battle against the enemy is definitely not meaningless!"

Molière snarled:

"Blood God will never tolerate cowardice!"

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh dare to talk to me in that tone, I will take your beating heart out of your chest and feed the dog in front of your eyes.

Sila raised her index finger in front of her lips, looked at the other party and said softly.

Molière stared straight at the opponent, and finally couldn't bear to bow his head and knelt down.

"Forgive me, my lord."

"Of course I forgive you, poor Molière."

Sila put his hand on the head of the chosen lord.

At this moment, Molière suddenly felt staggered, and at the same time Sila withdrew his hand.

Molière had felt the same feeling countless times before, but it was the strongest one since he left the Dunwich battlefield.

This is the roar of Oak's heavy artillery and rockets sweeping the ground, just like the aftermath of an earthquake, and it also means that Oak's long-silent offensive is about to kick off.

Sila turned and looked at the ruins of the city. At the boundary of his line of sight, shining clouds were blooming, and Molière also stood up.

"The enemy is here."