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

Cyril was naked and wrapped in Clark's red cloak, her bare feet were floating in the air, her white skin still had traces of being burned by the fire, and it was slowly healing.

He rummaged through his backpack, only to take out the gray-blue arena-specific suit and put it on.

After the Phoenix Force broke away from his body, he counterattacked even more frantically, burning more and more on the ground.

Thick fog billowed in the sky, and the rain poured down hungrily and thirstily.

The fire did not go out, but instead heated the falling rainwater, and steamed white air came out. Most of the originally cold and dry ice sheet had disappeared, and the thick water vapor increased the humidity.

The gray-blue sky is heavy, and the endless plain is full of flames. The extreme weather brings an unprecedented sense of absurdity, just like the end of the world depicted in the oil painting.Cyril lowered her head and looked down, and then raised her hand to wipe off the condensation on her eyelashes, her heart and body were exhausted.

However, the elf who had achieved a difficult victory still opened his eyelids forcefully, and began to use the skill "Incarnation of the Goddess of Light" while the concentration of undead power below was still very high.

This time, Cyril was very proficient. He turned his spiritual power into a needle and thread, guiding the unbalanced forces in the barriers of gods everywhere, pulling them over, and carefully repairing the loopholes in the kingdom of the dead and the kingdom of fog.

Cyril concentrated and mobilized all her energy.Although this kind of laborious work can only be regarded as sewing, it was quickly completed by the only elf in the world who can mobilize the power of light on a large scale.

At this time, Clark, who was going to check on Heincili, walked through the sea of ​​flames, squeezed past the burning undead struggling to escape, squatted down, and held the holy spear of Gungnir with his right hand.

The legion commander who was nailed to the ground was motionless, his dark gray eyes half-closed, like a frozen statue.

Cyril watched as Clark held the spear, trying to lick the point of the gun that was sunk deep into the ground.He held Clark's hand and stopped him: "Don't move yet."

Clark stopped and turned his head: "What should we do with him?"

Cyril, who had changed into a new equipment robe, raised the hem of his clothes and squatted on the ground. He opened Heinciri's chest that had been blown open, touched it a few times, and sighed faintly: "It's useless, he Already ran away."

Clark frowned, pointing to the corpse on the ground: "Then what is this?"

Cyril stopped, stood up, looked up at the place where the sky and the horizon intersected in the distance, and sneered: "If God King Odin's Holy Spear can crucify the head of the Lost Legion... My hometown god left There are more sacred artifacts, and it has never been successful. Heincili's soul can be projected onto any undead body. This is the exploitation of low-level undead by high-level undead. We just couldn't stop him from escaping. "

Clark remained silent.

Cyril tilted her head: "What, lost?"

Clark still didn't speak.

His silence is different from Batman's, without sharp thorns, and it doesn't make people feel oppressed.

"But we are not considered a failure..." Cyril folded the cloak on his arms and put it in Clark's hands, "It will be very difficult for Heinciri to return to his peak in a short time."

Clark took his cloak silently, "How short is the short time?"

Cyril smiled: "It's only 30 or [-] years."

Clark: "..."

"Actually, this is not bad. With Heinshiri's ability, he will still firmly occupy the position of legion commander and will not be taken away by others. But his individual strength has been weakened by at least half, and now he has fled in a hurry. It is estimated that It will take a lot of time and energy to clean up the interior, and the earth will get more breathing opportunities."

Clark listened to Cyril's analysis and nodded from time to time, but his eyes seemed not so focused.

It was the first time he had seen an elf mage wearing this gray-blue robe. Compared with the slightly looser white robe that Cyril often wore, the style was simpler and close-fitting, and the dark gold belt even more so. The waist line is tightly wrapped, leaving only the flying hem, which flutters in the wind. At first glance, it looks like a well-made long trench coat.

Cyril cut her hair to half length, tied it behind her head with a hair tie, and tied it into a small braid, and her cheeks were still stained with black ash from the burning fire.It looks like Carat can be the same, both are disheartened.

Clark suddenly remembered the first time he met Cyril.It was a winter night, in order to amuse him, the mage in white robe jumped down from the air, his long hair shone like gold, and his graceful figure was like a thin and graceful ginkgo leaf, carrying a kind of classicism rarely seen in modern society. ,dream.

He felt that the elves were a little different from the beginning.

This so-called darling of the gods is not as easy-going, mysterious and powerful as it was at the beginning. Instead, he has to do his best every time, wishing to sacrifice everything he has in exchange for victory on the vast road ahead.

"I'm just worried about you, Cyril. When you drank those things, I almost thought you were out of control, and if you really turned into an undead, what should I do?"

Clark lowered his head and showed a nice smile to the person in front of him, the corners of his mouth curled up, but his eyes were sad.

Cyril: "I..."

Before Cyril could say anything, Clark exerted a slight force on the hand that had been holding the handle of the gun, and the tip of the gun, which was completely submerged in the ground, trembled slightly, and once again passed through Heinciri's broken chest, pulling the gun out easily.

The legion commander lying on the ground quickly turned into a puddle of gray mercury, spreading along the terrain to the surroundings. Before it could flow far, he was burned by the power of the phoenix, and those low-level undead who had no time to escape At the same time, it turned into steaming hot water vapor.

Seeing that familiar face disappear into nothingness, and hearing Clark's words, Cyril felt confused.He suddenly grabbed Clark's arm, flustered for no reason, "Sorry... for making you worry. I, I just think this plan is very feasible."

Clark's palm covered the back of Cyril's hand, and his tone was gentle: "No need to apologize, you did nothing wrong. I feel angry and sad, but that's just my own reason."

Cyril didn't know how to interface, he lowered his eyes and covered his heart with a flat voice, "If I become an undead, you must kill me, don't let me live in this world for another second. "

Clark shook his head: "I will not allow such a thing to happen, and I will not cooperate with such a dangerous plan of yours in the future."

Cyril suddenly laughed, and the corners of his eyes slightly rolled up: "You will, when any sacrifice is a last resort, I am no special than others."

Now Clark didn't want to listen to him anymore. Instead, he covered the elf's mouth, hugged him horizontally, and flew from the ground into the air together.

From Clark's rare willful behavior, the abominable elf seemed to have experienced some kind of pleasure, with a smile on his lips, exhaustion seemed to be swept away, and he lay lazily in Superman's broad embrace and looked around.

The newborn wind was blowing through the sky and the earth, and the hazy sky lit up little by little. Seeing that the power of the phoenix burned all the undead in this area and transformed them into rich and pure magical energy, Cyril pulled tugged at Clark's sleeve.

"Heimdall," Clark called the guardian of the Rainbow Bridge, "you can send us away now."

Heimdall: "Got it."

A brilliant ray of light streaked across the sky and landed on the top of the two of them.

After annihilating the base camp of the Lost Legion in this cosmic plane and mending the missing barrier of gods, Cyril and Superman, who had been away for a short time, once again stood on the bridge deck of the Rainbow Bridge, with seven paths of different colors under their feet. The light shines and stretches towards the horizon.

"How's the battle here?" Cyril jumped out of Clark's arms, his face still covered in ashes.

Heimdall twisted the long sword in his hand and closed the passage of the Rainbow Bridge, "The undead mobilized half of the troops back to the country of the dead to support, your Batman almost drove a small aviation battleship over, plus the Greek gods The Amazon female warrior who came to help... The counterattack led by Saul went very smoothly, and now the undead in front of Odin's palace are almost wiped out."

Cyril nodded: "What about the loss?"

Heimdall: "Some of our people have been transformed into undead, not many, about one-tenth of the total number. And among this one-tenth, 80.00% are humans with poor physical fitness, such as yours The team members and the human kingdom that holds vibrating gold."

To be honest, the Wakanda King’s Guard with a high level of technology should not be inferior to the Amazon female warriors in Paradise Island in terms of actual combat power, but the flesh/body functions as a barrier against the power of the undead from encroaching on the soul, which puts humans in a Big disadvantage.

Cyril has reconnected to the system, and there is no need to continue to understand the situation with Heimdall at this time.

So, he dragged Clark and went straight to the center of the battlefield, starting the final finishing touch of this exhausting battle.

At some point, it began to rain in Asgard. Big raindrops flowed down the four corners of the temple, and the white marble columns and golden steps were wet.