[Comprehensive British and American] After the mage traveled through the super British world

The dying dragon roared crazily, and the red sun in the distance emitted an ominous red halo, shining on the broken ring of doom.

The body of the dragon is huge.

It was so big that the tail could almost roll up the setting sun, and it was so big that the blood gushing out of the broken scales was like a small river melting in the spring breeze in early spring.

The dragon's blood was unexpectedly warm, and the sweet blood energy full of magical energy lingered at the tip of his nose.

Cyril weighed his mana, and silently recited the last incantation - the Whip of Light, which was the punishment of the Creator God for the undead creatures.

The dragon's body, which had been corroded by the power of the undead, twitched and slammed at the orc warrior who was charging ahead.

The shield array composed of forty orc warriors collided with the dragon's tail, making an earth-shattering noise. The shield blessed by the light magic gave off a faint white light, providing the most solid power for mages, hunters, and summoners behind them. guardian.

Cyril used the levitation technique to suspend herself in mid-air so that she could observe the overall situation more clearly.

The giant dragon Les Owen is already at the end of his battle, but the human legion is also quite tragic.

Before the battle began, the night elf prince who had sworn to surpass his position as the number one mage had already died, and the glowing green staff was thrown at Cyril's feet.Only half of the priests favored by the Goddess of Light remained. They were wearing thin cloth armor and trying to heal the tall and strong warriors in front of them under the breath of the dragon.

Cyril opened the backpack and drank the last bottle of mana potion he carried.

The long casting time finally passed, and the strongest mage in the Western Continent communicated with the gods, using the purest magical power, and sent punishment instead of the gods.

The surrounding space began to shrink and collapse, and light emerged from the black hole.

A pure white whip swelled rapidly, and bright elements overflowed from above, wandering around, lighting up the dark and gloomy ring of doom.

Dragon King Les Owen's body suddenly stiffened, and it suddenly raised its head and let out a mournful roar.

It used to be the most powerful creature on this continent. It used to protect a weak creature with a mother for the goddess of light. Orcs loved it, humans revered it, and even the proudest elves paid it the highest respect.

Until it was bewitched by the lost undead creatures, the whispers lingering in its ears, it began to yearn for the pleasure of killing - Les Owen plundered the wealth of the dwarves, and imprisoned beautiful human girls for food, Enslaved the mighty orcs and centaurs...

Memories of a lifetime flashed through his mind, the dragon's skeleton-only head hung down, it closed its empty eyes, huge teardrops gushed out, and slammed on the ground.

God's punishment came to the world.

The milky white soft light fell gently, gently whipping the Dragon King who had gone astray.

Les Owen didn't feel the slightest pain. Instead, he recalled the beginning of his life. It was just a small young dragon, held in the arms of the Goddess of Light.

The goddess' blond hair is as bright as the sun, and her green eyes are like spring buds, and like a lake shrouded in soft mist. It is the tenderness that breeds life, and it is the unreserved gaze of a mother on her child.

"Mother..." The ancient and stern dragon language spewed out from the dragon's mouth, its tearful eyes looked towards the sky, "I was wrong... I beg your forgiveness, and beg you to take in my homeless, humble and dirty soul. "

Cyril smiled softly, with bright blond hair and watery green eyes, like the incarnation of the goddess of light in the world.He sighed and softly called Dragon King Les Owen's name: "Go, my child."

The dragon's skin corroded by the power of the undead slowly healed, the scales shone brightly, and the platinum holy light reflected like a diamond.Les Owen's body recovered, and his life disappeared.

The entire battlefield was silent for a few seconds.

Then came the cheers of mountains and tsunamis.

"It's Cyril Kanterin!"

"God's firstborn son, high priest of the light elves!"

"Our victory is the favor of the gods!"

Cyril slowly fell back to the ground.

Accompanying him is an empty blue bar.

Xi Ruier looked at the blue potion that he had knocked out completely, and said helplessly: "There is no blue potion."

The blood in Les Owen's body gradually solidified, and the treasure hidden in the void by the dragon's magic power lost its owner's cover, and poured out from the different space, and the mountains and plains were full of treasures.

As an archmage who single-handedly achieved 40.00% output in team battles, Cyril has the priority to dispose of these wealth.

Cyril looked at the patriarch of the orc clan who was slowly walking towards him, who was also the commander of the whole battle, brushed his smooth blond hair, and said: "I only want the heart of the mountain, and you can dispose of other things according to the contribution value. "

The orc warrior looked down at the elf who was only as tall as his waist, and said in a low voice, "It should be like this, you deserve the most valuable treasure."

Cyril nodded, walked to the dragon, picked up the heart of the mountain, and waved to everyone: "I opened the portal to the main city of humans, let's go first, goodbye."

The orc patriarch and the newly resurrected night elf prince bowed to him.

"Goodbye, Son of God, Cyril."

Cyril wore the shrunken heart of the mountain on his body, stepped into the portal, and his figure gradually disappeared.

No one thought that this would be a farewell.

The continent that was cared for by the gods lost their great magician.

They cleaned the battlefield as usual, and the priests who had just rested for a while began to cast spells without complaint, resurrecting their teammates who unfortunately died in the battle, and the head of the legion began to distribute rich spoils...

Cyril was not teleported to the main human city.

When he opened his eyes again, there was a dark blue void around him.

"Siril, the light elf, the firstborn son of the Creator God."

"Age 90 years old, level 17000, blood volume 98000, mana value 140, backpack with [-] slots, full level of proficiency in alchemy and herbal gathering, proficiency in skinning and tailoring."

"The Lost Legion is an army composed of dead undead. They have no life and are not afraid of death. They wander in the dark void all day long. Two days ago, the Lost Legion captured a brand new plane. They will knock open The gate of the new world, trying to use the power of the dead to corrupt the human world once protected by the goddess of light.

As the firstborn son of the Goddess of Light, an elf born in the Moonlight Forest of Hills, you are about to go to this unknown new world, teach the human beings there the ability to resist the power of the undead, and start a new journey. "

Cyril: "???"

No, Goddess of Light, have you asked my opinion?

—

In order to protect New York City, the Avengers and the aliens are in a bitter battle.

Such is the nature of superheroes, precious weekends are always spent catching up with alien invasions.

Natasha looked at the half-finished manicure she had just done, and slammed the widow sting on the Chitauri's face hard, with Clint's nagging complaints still lingering in her ears.

"Do you think that beautiful lawyer will still date me? After I was 15 minutes late and released her pigeons halfway? But she told me that her type is sunny blonde with big breasts. I think she will forgive me of……"

Clint narrowed his eyes slightly, and shot an arrow forward. The body of the arrow quickly split into ten small arrows. After successfully embedded in the Chitauri's body, it exploded muffled in the alien's flesh and blood. He pushed Pushing the lavender goggles, he said with some doubts: "Hey, friends, I seem to see something weird."

In addition to the sharpshooter, the second person who found something wrong was Captain America, who had quadruple vision.

"Anyone know him?" Steve asked, frowning.

Iron Man, who was listening to his teammates chatting on the communication channel, turned his head, was slightly taken aback, and then said unceremoniously: "Sol, another Asgardian ran out over there."

Cyril, who just landed on a strange continent, quickly caught everyone's attention.

He was wearing a well-fitting moon-white robe, with thick blond hair hanging down his waist, holding a lacquered wood staff as tall as a person, and wearing a small pendant around his neck, which exuded a milky white light. He had a beautiful face like The young angel in the oil painting of the church is classic and soft, with half-down eyelashes gently covering the green eyes, the eyes are like water waves, echoing with tender compassion.

"I don't know him," Saul said grimly.

Cyril was sensitive to the sight of him falling on him.

"Hello, warriors of another continent." The Son of God bowed slightly, and greeted the Avengers with the general etiquette among elves.

Even though the incident happened suddenly, Cyril still maintained the demeanor of an elf well. He glanced at the people present and found that their team configuration was very unbalanced.

Hunters with bows and arrows, assassins in black leather armor, human warriors with shields, green orc berserkers with bare upper body, magic warriors with magic hammers, and a mechanical master who controls robots...

A team of three fighters has neither a healer nor a long-range magic output.

Assassins and Berserkers are very capable of single-handedly fighting, but the efficiency of clearing mobs is very low.

Moreover, the warrior holding the shield should obviously be wearing heavy armor defensive equipment to attract firepower for his teammates and create a comfortable output environment, but he charged forward alone, throwing his teammates far away...

What a lovely bunch of newbies.

Cyril has always been a helpful elf. He often helps others open a portal, make magic food, and even help fight monsters.

As long as they are politely invited.

"Which comic exhibition are you a teenager from?" Tony rolled his eyes, "It's dangerous here, go home and do your homework."

Cyril: "..."

That being the case, Cyril smiled slightly, and generously blessed: "Then I will leave first, and may the Goddess of Light bless you for success."

Tony: "... this kid's parents should make him an appointment with a psychiatrist."

On the contrary, the kind Captain America sighed, put down his shield and pointed a way for Cyril: "Leave the city from that direction, the Chitauri over there have been cleaned up."

Cyril: "Thank you."