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

Clark felt uneasy. He suddenly remembered that, except for showing him the way ten minutes ago, Cyril hadn't spoken to him since then.

This is not normal at all for elves who are usually a little chatty.

Clark, who was flying in mid-air, stopped his forward inertia, reacted quickly, and shook off the hand that was strangling his neck.Then he fished back, caught the person lying behind him, and turned around.

Fog spread around, and there was no sound, but it was not known whether it was auditory hallucinations or low-frequency fluctuations.In a trance, Clark heard a string of soft but weird music slowly flowing through the eardrums, making one's heart sway.

Clark, who was made a little nervous by this environment, shook his head, took a closer look, and suddenly found that it was not Cyril who was being carried behind him all the time, but——

Doomsday!

Clark was taken aback, and his body reacted immediately. Almost instinctively, he swung his fist and threw it at Doomsday's face.

That is General Zod transformed by Lex Luthor, who comes from Krypton like Clark, and almost only kryptonite can kill it.Unlike other crises that Superman has experienced, Doomsday is the first deadly threat other than Darkseid that can match him in single-body combat power.

The fist broke the sound barrier and made a series of huge crackling sounds, which were about to hit Doomsday's ugly and deformed face.

But just before Clark was about to smash the opponent's face into meatloaf, he abruptly closed his fist,

He was floating in place, with one hand still holding on to the other party's collar, his chest heaving up and down, and he asked with a complicated expression: "Siril...is that you?"

It was quiet around, and there was no answer.

There was only a magic elemental sword shining with white brilliance, which stopped quietly behind Clark and pointed directly at his back. The sharp point of the sword was only one centimeter away from his skin.

The opponent also wanted to attack him, but like Clark, he stopped at the last moment and did not kill him.

From Cyril's perspective, he could only see Heinciri's fist hanging firmly on the tip of his nose, and that hateful face was full of doubts and worries.

The leader of the Lost Army, who was wearing warrior armor, opened his mouth and said something.

But Cyril couldn't hear him at all.

He opened the communication channel that came with the system, but found that both the chat history and the team list were empty, and he could not send any messages at all.

The elf put away his lightsaber, looked at the shadow in front of him that he wished to cut into pieces, and shook his head, "This place is really weird..."

They were deprived of their voices, and they couldn't even contact the system that had been with Cyril since they came to Earth.

Cyril was sure that the person standing in front of him with Heinciri's appearance was Clark, but he didn't know what he looked like in Clark's eyes.

The clever elf vaguely understood something.

They should have met the person they fear or hate the most in their consciousness.

This is the country of the dead, the home of the undead.

If the power of the undead hadn't mutated to some extent and spread throughout the universe like cancer cells, would these dead be like them now, full of fear and unable to hear any voice from the outside world , wandering hesitantly in a fog where you can't see your fingers?

Clark didn't know the cause and effect, and he didn't know what happened, but when he saw that the attack aimed at him was canceled, he also reacted - although it looked like Doomsday, the person in front of him was actually his companion.

The huge monster sighed for a long time, and pointed to a position behind Clark.

That's where Cyril would have liked to go with Clark.

Clark thought for a while, and finally stretched out his hand, and carried Cyril, the image of Doomsday, behind his back.He hadn't forgotten that the elf mage couldn't fly by himself now.

The weight on the back is still light, and after touching it, the touch in the palm of the hand seems to be the flexible and slender thigh of the elf.This substantive contact brought him back to reality from the hallucination, and the music that kept ringing in his ears also quietly receded, like a venomous snake lurking in the dark, ready to move.

There was no interference this time, and the two flew together to the location designated by Cyril, and slowly fell from the sky.

Surprisingly, when they walked through the nearly condensed fog in the air and stepped on the ground with both feet, they found that the place was not empty, but filled with various humanoid creatures.

Giants, dwarves, elves, humans...

There are even warriors in the more ancient Asgard costumes. According to mythology, they should be the dead gods of Asgard.

These vague creatures roamed the wilderness and the dilapidated villages. There were too many of them, which made the space look a bit crowded, shoulder to shoulder, but the eyes of each other never had any intersection.

There is no radiant sun, and the light wind no longer flows. The heavy gray in the sky is their cemetery, where all the things that should belong to life are buried, leaving only a group of lonely wandering souls.

The most beautiful thing here is actually just a small flower. The stems and leaves are small and withered, the petals are broken and pale.

Everything is exhausted here.

The special environment made the atmosphere silent and depressing, and the soft and sad music that sounded like a funeral song sounded again, lingering in the ears of the only survivors.Cyril lowered her eyes, took out a blank magic scroll from her backpack, unfolded the yellow sheepskin scroll, bit her fingertips, and wrote on it.

[These things are probably the aborigines in the country of the dead]

After reading it, Clark took the parchment, narrowed his eyes slightly, controlled the extremely thin heat rays, and accurately carved a few concise words on it: "What should we do now?"

[In Norse mythology, the first life was jointly produced by Niflheim, the "Nation of Mist" and Muspelheim, the "Nation of Fire". Diverse life in the world. ]

Clark obviously also knew the myths and legends on Earth. Holding the scroll in his hand, he turned his head to look at Cyril. In his eyes, the other party was still ugly and rough like Doomsday.But he smiled involuntarily, and continued to communicate with written reflections: "Can we use fire to burn the power of the undead here?"

[In my hometown, only the power of light that acts directly on the soul can completely purify the undead.But after coming to the earth, I discovered that the power of the phoenix can also burn the undead, and transform the power of the undead into the purest power without any nature.I have a shard of Phoenix Force in my hand, you can try it.If it is not enough, then use the power of light in the god barrier. ]

Cyril and Clark have never been to the "Nation of Fire" Muspelheim, and they don't know what kind of power the flames there are.

But for now, the Phoenix Force is the most suitable force for them to use now.

Clark nodded slightly. Under the dim and cold starlight, his blue eyes were still so simple and clear. Although Cyril still saw Heinciri's face, he felt inexplicably at ease.

This time, he didn't use heat rays to write on the parchment again, but just pulled that Cyril who was still a monster in his eyes, and swipe on the opponent's palm a few times.

Don't worry, I will take care of you.

Xi Ruier flicked her fingers lightly, her eyes froze.

This sentence is a bit familiar... but I can't remember where I heard it.

The elf shook his head, smiled slightly, and didn't respond, just closed his eyes, and took out the fragments of Phoenix Force from his backpack.

Although the system is no longer available, his backpack is still there.It can be regarded as a little consolation, otherwise I really don't know what to do in the face of this weird situation.

With a flash of brilliance, a thin rhombus-shaped red crystal lay safely in Cyril's white palm, crystal clear and slightly glowing with fiery light.The elf immersed his spiritual power in it, and easily felt the power contained in it.

The power of the phoenix is ​​tyrannical, violent, and aggressive like fire, but it is also very pure in nature, as long as it contains energy, it can become its fertilizer and give birth to a real fire phoenix.

The diamond-shaped crystal overflowed with small flames, climbing along the elf's slender fingertips to the arms, flowing smoothly like water or silk, flowing over the shoulders and neck.The golden hair tied behind his head was blown by the hot wind of the flames, and turned red in an instant, bright, dangerous and full of vitality.

After more than ten seconds, the elf standing still in place took a big breath and slowly opened his eyelids.

The deep green eyes that were as gentle as lakes have disappeared, and now his entire eye sockets are burning with restless fire, and there is a little phoenix fluttering its wings and crying softly in it, eager to break through all obstacles and come to the world again.

The ground under his feet was already burning without needing Cyril's special operation.

The ice sheet is roasted, and the water is gurgling, dripping over the insteps.

Cyril had never felt so restless before, he resisted the urge to burn the entire universe in his chest, and wanted to turn his head to look at Clark.

The undead were screaming, the dense fog was receding, the scalding steam flew into the air and was cooled again, and there was a light rain in the sky.

The power of the phoenix was beyond Cyril's imagination. He greedily absorbed the newly born magical energy in the air, and couldn't help but transform them all into the power of the phoenix, so that the fire between heaven and earth would burn even more vigorously. .

The fire burned quickly, and Cyril had already seen the village in the distance. There was a dead river there, and with the precipitation in the sky, it slowly flowed and became alive.

The elf turned his head again, looking in the opposite direction.

Something is missing.

Why is Clark missing?

The author has something to say: I apologize to everyone!I was recommended by my friend to watch Volleyball Boys...it’s too good-looking and I can’t control myself so I don’t have code words. TAT, I’m sorry for the little angels