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

Cyril knew in her heart that the person holding his hand was definitely not Clark.

There is no reason for this intuitive judgment, just a vague thought passing through my mind.

The elf pulled his hand away vigorously, rubbed his eyes, his heart was full of doubts and worries.

What happened?

How is Clark?

Who are the people around him?

The heat and burnt smell from the fire blocked the five keen senses of the elf, and even the legion leader beside him who exudes a powerful magnetic field of undead creatures could not sense it.

He seemed to be thrown into an endless loop of time once again.No sound can be heard, nothing can be seen, and the skin is burned to pieces by the flames, everything becomes stagnant.

The phoenix trapped in the body rushes around, trying to break free from the cage made by the elves with flesh/body, to come out of Nirvana again, and come down to the world.

Cyril felt that maybe he should stop, he should no longer use the energy converted from the power of the undead to feed back this ambitious phoenix.

But there are so many undead here, if he stops using the power of the phoenix at hand, and the power absorbed by the dark dimension is only effective for high-level undead with wisdom, he can only use the power of light.

This will consume too much energy in the god barrier.

If this is done, the barrier between the entire universe and the lost army will be thinned again.

I can still control it, and I can hold on for a while.The elf thought to himself that he could buy the earth some more time.

Perhaps the deadliest power in the universe was burning on Cyril's body. She turned her head, looked to the left, then looked to the right, and looked around in a daze.

"Superman!" he yelled.

Even knowing that Clark might not be able to hear him at all now, Cyril couldn't help shouting.

He still remembered what Clark wrote in his palm, the big man with the curly hair said he would take care of him.

Thinking of this sentence in her heart, Xi Ruier was startled.

He remembered why he felt familiar when he heard this sentence.Because this is the promise that Cyril once made to Heinciri when he was a child.

The elves failed to deliver on this promise.

Nobody can do it forever.

There are always some irresistible external forces, or the person who made the promise has changed his mind, making the once sincere promise naive and ridiculous.

Cyril raised her head, her vision was completely filled by the dazzling firelight.

He opened his mouth and shouted again: "Superman! Run away, it's too dangerous here!"

This time, he couldn't even hear his own voice.The elf raised his hand and touched his neck, only to find that it had been burned away, only the energy-condensed body still maintained the human form, and the throat that could make sound had long since disappeared.

The fire quickly spread from Helheim to Niflheim. The water in the river has been burned up, and the dilapidated villages have been wiped out in the flames. Relieved, the ice sheet was roasted, and the rising water vapor distorted the air.

The ground was dug several meters deep, and the cracks extended one by one.

Burn it up.

Let this dirty and gray place disappear completely.

This voice kept churning in Cyril's heart, and at this moment, he realized that he should stop.It's a pity that the torch of the gods has been ignited, burning vigorously and magnificently, and it is no longer under the control of mortals.

Just when Cyril's heart sank little by little, and he was about to use Dormammu's dark power to fight against it, a touch of cold power was fed into his mouth.

The cloak behind Heinciri's battle armor was half burned, and he waved it against the flames.He also realized that Cyril was on the verge of losing control of his energy, and the greedy power of the phoenix was gradually devouring the elf's body, wanting to make him the nourishment for breaking out of his cocoon.

"Don't you hate undead the most?" Heincily snorted, and cut his wrist, allowing the high concentration of undead power stored in his blood vessels to flow out in the form of liquid.He pinched Cyril's chin and lifted it up, forcing him to open his mouth, dripping the thick gray cold liquid into it.

The bursting fiery phoenix power does restrain the undead, but when the concentration of the undead power exceeds the threshold, everything is reversed.

The power of undead condensed into liquid was like quicksilver, falling one by one, wet Cyril's lips.As soon as it fell, it extinguished the lingering fire between Cyril's lips and teeth.The light gray liquid deftly penetrated into the elf's body along the skin that had been torn apart by the flames.

Cyril felt something was wrong.But like a thirsty person drinking water that has been put into poison/medicine, the instinct of survival makes him full of desire for this kind of energy that can restrain the power of the Phoenix.

He stuck out his tongue, licked the corner of his mouth, looked in the direction of Heinciri with his fiery red and empty eye sockets, and couldn't help but move forward.

The phoenix in its body wailed sharply, its flame-shining feathers were wetted by this hateful energy, and the decaying undead overwhelmed the newborn Nirvana power.

Heinciri let Cyril drink his blood, clusters of fire reflected in his gray eyes, and the fingertips of his other hand brushed the elf's dyed red hair, and said softly: "Wait for you It would be great to wake up and find that you have become an undead. You are the most vivid when you are angry."

The legion leader, who can control almost all the existing undead power, doesn't know how to save money. Even if he feeds Cyril's undead power every mouthful, it is enough to save hundreds of thousands of undead subordinates who were burned to death or wiped out by Superman.

In the end, Cyril's face was already attached to Heinciri's wrist, and he was no longer satisfied with being fed, and took the initiative.

Heinciri embraced the elf in his arms, watching the faint red pattern under the opponent's skin gradually fade, and gradually, the progress bar of Cyril's infection by the power of the undead has reached 50.00%.

He really deserves to be the most valued child of the Goddess of Light.The legion commander patted Cyril on the back with a gentle rhythm.

Time passed little by little.

The progress bar has reached 90.00%, and it is only a little bit close to reaching [-]%.If a living being is completely undead, even if the Goddess of Light reappears, he cannot save his fallen soul.

Heinciri had already begun to laugh.

He could fully imagine what the undead Cyril would look like—that brilliant blond hair would dim, and those dark green eyes would be filled with strange gray mist.A corrupt child of light, a captured holy priest, is there anything more pleasing in the world than this?

They will meet again in another life form, renewing the promises they once missed.

Seeing that the progress bar was about to come to an end, Heinciri untied the armor on his chest, picked up a dagger, stabbed it into the heart, and then pulled it out.

The gray blood rolling in the blood groove of the dagger is the purest undead power in the world.

Drink it, and everything will no longer be irreversible.

Heinciri handed the dagger to Cyril's mouth, and with the most gentle voice in his life, coaxed slowly: "Drink it, my dearest friend."

Cyril closed her eyes, let go of Heinciri's wrist, then wrinkled her nose and sniffed.

"That's it, good boy." Heinciri's eyes flickered slightly.

The elf, who seemed completely unconscious, moved closer to the dagger, sticking out his tongue.And his right hand slowly climbed up to Heinciri's chest which was cut by the dagger.

Still 5.00% off.

Heinciri's breathing also gradually became short of breath.

Cyril's lips had already touched the cold blade of the black iron dagger, and his eyes, which had been closed all the time, suddenly opened.

His right hand resting on Heinshiri's chest, at some point, had penetrated into the other's wound, tightly clutching the heart that had long stopped beating.

The fire that had already been extinguished in Cyril's body suddenly increased, like a burning bomb that exploded suddenly!

The elf's white skin, which had already returned to fairness, was completely burned by the flames, and a huge phoenix phantom unfolded behind him, flapping its wings and screaming, stirring up the flames.

"It's now!" Cyril turned her head to look behind her, shouting in a low voice.

A phantom moved in response to the sound, because the speed was too fast, but no one could catch it.

It was just that when the dust settled, he saw a spear inserted into Heinhiri's heart. The person holding the gun seemed to have exhausted all his strength. The hand holding the gun trembled a little, and the barrel of the gun was still shaking.

Heinciri fell from the sky.

Clark, who fired the shot, turned sideways, tore off the ragged cloak behind him, shook it in the air, and put it on Cyril, whose clothes had been completely burned off.

"Here I am," Clark looked at the elf wrapped under the cloak, obviously angry in his heart, but managed to raise a smile, "Your plan is too dangerous."

Using the power of the undead to extinguish the phoenix's evolutionary path, and using Heinciri's obsession and contempt for him to detonate the remaining power of the phoenix in his heart, Cyril was exhausted and could only lighten up. Raising his eyes lightly, he glanced at Clark with some grievances.

The anger and worry in Clark's heart were easily extinguished by this gaze, but he didn't want to make any expression on his face approving the elf's adventure. He took off the Nibelungen ring wrapped around his fingertips and threw it to Cyril.

"I'll go see him."

Cyril looked at the ring and held it in his palm.This workmanship is not particularly exquisite, but the simple and heavy ring is a bit rough.

But if it wasn't for this gadget, he might really be occupied by the Phoenix Dove today.

The elf whose undead progress was suddenly interrupted began to silently use the purification technique to cleanse the power of the undead stored in his body little by little.

The heart of Heinciri who fell into the sea of ​​undead below was burned, like a drop of oil falling into a hot pan, quickly igniting the accomplices below.With him as the center, the fire spread out rapidly, ring by ring.

The legion commander wanted to escape, but the spear that pierced Heinciri's heart pinned him in place motionless.

Because that gun is an artifact of the same level as the Nemorongen Ring—God King Odin's holy gun Gungnir.

It turned out that after seeing Cyril approached by Heinciri, Clark was very anxious, but he was trapped by the undead below with human sea tactics, like an elephant covered with man-eating ants, no matter how strong he is strength, but can't get rid of these ants that can't be killed.

"Put it on," Heimdall, who had been paying attention to the situation in Helheim, suddenly said to Clark when everything seemed to be at a loss, "it is the highest artifact bred in the land of the dead. , maybe there is still a chance.”

Without hesitation, Clark took out the Nibelungen Ring from his belt.

"But you have to think clearly," Heimdall's voice sounded a bit stern, "Although the creatures wearing the Nibelungen will gain unprecedented power, they will also be cursed with bad luck, because this is a sacred weapon belonging to the dead. .If you want to leave, I can open the Rainbow Bridge for you without being noticed by the undead, and it's still too late."

Clark didn't listen to Heimdall's words at all, and put the ring on his finger.

But after listening, Superman, who has always been good-tempered, frowned and was already a little angry: "Why can't you send Cyril away together?"

"The Phoenix Force on him is out of control. If I also send him back to Asgard, it will destroy the whole of Asgard."

The power of the Nibelungen shrouded Clark. As a powerful Kryptonian with extremely strong vitality, he was obviously not suitable for this kind of dead man's holy weapon, so he had to barely adapt, and at the same time deal with the crazy attacks of the undead. .

"He's here to support Asgard," Clark said word by word, "Do you understand?"

Heimdall was silent again for a few seconds.

"I understand, but my duty is to guard the Rainbow Bridge and Asgard. It is already my duty to tell you the secret of the Nibelungen Ring."

Clark is not one to blame others, and his kindness limits him.For him who already regarded Heimdall as a comrade-in-arms, the words just now were already heavy words.

Superman, whose uniform was torn, suddenly stopped what he was doing, allowing the undead to overwhelm him.

At that time, Heinciri, who had put all his attention on Cyril, cast a cold glance at Clark, laughed from a distance, and stopped paying attention.

The figure of Clark wearing the Nibelungen Ring gradually faded until he disappeared without a trace.

He dived into the past, getting closer and closer to Cyril and Heinciri.

"Wait a minute," Heimdall suddenly said, "Cyril told you to wait."

Clark's Adam's apple rolled, and his blue eyes were already surrounded by bloodshot eyes. He looked up at Cyril who was snuggling with Heinciri in the sky, and suddenly felt as if someone had stabbed him in the heart.

He didn't ask why Heimdall was able to contact Cyril, nor did he rush over regardless, but calmed himself down and asked, "Why?"

Based on Clark's understanding of Cyril, he knew that this elf, who had always had a lot of ideas, probably had some plans.But he didn't want to cooperate that much.

"He said he wanted to give it a try." Heimdall, who acted as a communicator between the two during this special period, was obviously also a little sad. The Ring of the Nibelung was born in the land of the dead, and its completely opposite nature is very likely to restrain the power of the phoenix. But Heincili doesn’t come across it every day.”

Clark didn't know how he agreed with Cyril's risky plan, he really wanted to rush over and slam his fist on Heinciri's face, so that he could no longer speak nonsense to Cyril.

Thinking so in his heart, but his body seemed to be against his own will, suppressing all opposing voices, and quietly lurking in the endless sea of ​​undead.He just used his eyes to look at the sky from a distance, looking at the figure who sacrificed himself and burned endless flames.

This is the biggest difference between him and Heinshiri.Clark has always respected Cyril, and he will not force him to do anything under the banner of "for his own good".

Even if the choice made his heart ache.

"Odin is sleeping now," just as Clark was waiting for Cyril's order, the somewhat annoying Heimdall jumped out to speak again, "I informed Saul, and the two of us opened his The arsenal has taken out the holy gun of Gungnir. As for whether you can use it, it depends on whether you can get the approval of the divine weapon."

Heimdall quietly opened a passage, and airdropped the holy spear of Gungnir to Clark's side.

So, Clark, holding the holy spear of God King Odin and wearing the Nibelungen Ring, the superman who could almost be said to have surpassed God King Odin just waited silently.

At that time, Clark was unprecedentedly powerful, but also unprecedentedly vulnerable.

Until the person he was looking forward to reacted, Clark, who simultaneously received the message from Heimdall, made a Jedi counterattack.

Cyril never let him down.

Amidst the pull of the two original forces of the universe, the elf still maintained a rare sense of reason, step by step, and meticulously carried out the overly harsh plan he had set.

The author has something to say: hello, is anyone still there?