Chapter 556 Brother, can you pass on the fire?
Outside the city.
Loen's senses were fully opened, and his divine eyes swept around, using his night vision ability to lock onto the wisps of gray mist that remained along the way.
Nine o'clock, two kilometers!
After confirming the location, Loen restrained his breath, sped up and caught up with the retreating Wild Hunt army, and quietly followed behind the team.
The Wild Hunt army that actively attacks human cities;
The undead who were inexplicably transformed;
The killing efficiency of slaughtering a town of a thousand people in one night...
This sudden natural disaster was filled with a weird atmosphere, and there seemed to be divine intervention behind the scenes.
Let me see who it is!
Could it be that Scathach came all the way from Scotland to visit Britain?
Lorne muttered to himself as he cautiously followed along.
The gray fog was moving at an extremely fast speed, and it even intentionally changed lanes and made detours while moving.
But these naturally could not be hidden from Lorne's eyes and perception. He followed the remaining breath of death along the way and firmly locked onto the main body of the Wild Hunt army.
The two sides crossed the stream, passed through the mountains, walked through the wilderness, and finally came to a valley.
The valley was shrouded in mist, with rugged gray-black rocks exposed. There was no grass growing along the way, and there was no sign of life at all.
Loen looked up at the old trees around him that seemed to have been drained of moisture and greenness, as well as the animal skeletons scattered in the ravines, and his eyes flickered.
Has the vitality of all nearby creatures been completely drained?
Really domineering...
Suppress your thoughts and continue forward with the Wild Hunt army.
Passing through the blockade of gray fog, Loen saw a desolate and crude sacrificial site and a throne made of blue-gray boulders.
On the throne, a haggard figure sat upright, with tattered armor covering only the torso, and in his hand he held a large sword with a surface covered with cracks.
The armor was made of a mixture of mithril and refined gold, and its surface was originally engraved with patterns of sunlight and lightning. The scarlet cloak at the end should have exuded a sacred and majestic aura.
But now, the armor is charred and broken, with burning ashes and cracks on the outside. Like its owner, it is full of a sense of decay.
Arriving at the sacrificial site, the Wild Hunt army gathered in an open area, slowly raised their hands, and chanted an ancient and solemn prayer:
"To the light, praise my Lord - Sun King Gwyn:
You are the tyrant of all the dead, and you alone bear the responsibility for all the wounds in this world.
You are the king of all living things, and you create eternal glory for us.
The greatest conqueror, the greatest protector.
—Lord of Ashes, the Red Dragon of Wales!"
Along with the passionate singing, wisps of golden-green light full of vigorous vitality overflowed from the gray fog and their bodies, and gathered towards the ruined altar in the center.
After absorbing these sacrifices, the lines of Ogham distributed around the altar were activated, and the brazier that was originally only left with embers also rekindled a cluster of golden flames.
The warm and bright firelight flickered in the valley, dispelling some of the surrounding cold and darkness, and making the originally restless and chaotic undead become solemn and quiet.
The dead tree-like body on the throne was also reignited under the illumination of the golden flames. A pair of dark, empty eyes slowly opened and looked towards somewhere in the gray fog. An excited and hoarse roar came out of his rolling throat:
"The living!"
The mist floated to both sides of the valley like boiling water. Lorne, who was hiding in it, raised his hands and showed an awkward but polite smile:
"Gwyn, the Sun King? The Lord Tuatha de Danann who maintains the balance of life and death in Wales, right? From the look of you...are you dead?"
"Blasphemy! Blasphemy! Blasphemy!"
The Wild Hunters, who had been calmed down by the holy fire, shouted angrily, drew their swords, and raised their spears and shields, determined to eliminate the usurpers before them for the sake of their monarch and gods.
“Boom!”
The golden sword light burst out, the surrounding grass and gravel exploded into the sky, and hundreds of charging wild hunters were shaken away.
In the dense dust, Loen swung the golden sword condensed by magic power in his hand and said unhappily:
"The dead should look like dead people. It's really unworthy of you, the Lord God, to forcibly rob the life and soul of living things to prolong your own life."
Gwyn on the throne did not answer. He slowly stood up with the broken sword in his hand. His empty eye sockets looked at the uninvited guest in the valley through the half-broken visor. There was a hint of beast-like greed and desire in his eyes.
The figure in front of him was so bright and dazzling in his eyes, like a sun in the dark night.
Such a powerful and rich divinity is simply the firewood chosen by God, most suitable for being filled into the furnace and becoming the fire that warms us!
The withered and charred figure rushed down from the throne, swung the broken sword in his hand, and smashed towards the target.
The surrounding gray mist vibrated and hummed in sync, condensing into long spears of death, cooperating with Gwyn in launching an attack.
Want to swallow me? That depends on whether you have the ability to do so!
Loen sneered and raised the golden sword in his hand. A dazzling flame burst out from his body, annihilating the surrounding death spears in one fell swoop and sweeping forward.
For a moment, charred armor fragments and ashes flew in the heat wave created by the golden flames.
Gwyn let out a low growl, dragged his hunched body, and leaped up with the remaining divine flame. The cracked greatsword in his hand slashed out in a chaotic trajectory, and sparks flew wherever the sword passed, as if to tear time and space apart.
His withered face was hidden behind the flames, and his only remaining right eye flashed with a crazy dark golden light. Every swing of his sword was accompanied by a crisp sound like breaking bones - that was the dying thousand-year-old divine body wailing because it could not bear the heavy burden.
Loen raised his sword and responded lightly.
Although Gwyn is the King of the Wild Hunt in Wales, in his heyday he could probably compete with Scathach, Queen of the Shadow Kingdom.
But, that was when he was alive.
Now, Gwyn has fallen for unknown reasons, leaving only a broken body. Driven by the instinct for survival, he commands the Wild Hunt army, plunders the vitality and souls of living things, and forcibly prolongs his life. However, his strength is no longer what it used to be.
What's more, even Scathach in her prime was defeated by him, not to mention Gwyn who is now on the verge of death.
The golden and gray-red swords collided with each other, ashes wrapped in sparks splashed everywhere, the divine fire in Gwyn's body was quickly consumed, his withered body cracked rapidly, and he was forced step by step towards the broken throne.
Seeing that the gods they served were at a disadvantage, the surrounding Wild Hunt became agitated and immediately assembled their troops to guard before the Sun King Gwyn to resist the powerful enemy.
it's useless!
Loen rushed into the enemy camp, and without even using the power of the gods, he completely tore apart the formation of the Wild Hunt army with just simple swordsmanship and magic.
The figure is agile and swift, as fast as the wind, as aggressive as fire, and as unpredictable as the shadow.
The sword light was dazzling, like falling stars. The sword moved like thunder, fast like a blazing fire burning the sky, slow like a mountain pressing down on the top of the head, forming an unparalleled suppressive force.
In the dark night, sword beams shot everywhere in the sky, like the waves of rivers and seas, the spreading and falling frost, the flowing mercury...beauty and danger coexist.
Wherever it passed, grass and trees were destroyed, soil and rocks were turned into powder, and the wild hunting undead souls were melted in the flames.
Seeing the number of his subordinates and subjects decreasing rapidly, Gwyn's remaining body seemed to be awakened to a trace of consciousness.
He overturned the altar and let the remaining holy fire in the brazier pour over his remaining body.
Suddenly, the originally dark and withered body suddenly burst into golden flames several feet high.
The next moment, the broken giant sword was raised high, and the dead god let out a silent roar. The remaining divine fire and lightning power gathered at the tip of the sword into a silver-colored ball of light, like the last eruption of a dying sun.
“Boom!”
When the ball of light exploded, scorching lightning marks appeared on the ground, but it was no longer able to reproduce the glory of the "Lightning of Light" in the past.
Ashes with a burning smell filled the battlefield, and a golden sword pierced Gwyn's abdomen, leaving a tragic footnote for this long-destined final battle.
Burnt fragments kept falling off the withered body. The dead god raised his old face, which was half covered with a mask, and looked at the devastated battlefield with a bitter smile in his eyes:
"It seems that I have caused quite a bit of trouble."
"It's okay, it's been resolved."
Lorne answered softly, and then asked,
"Any last words?"
Although it is not entirely clear what kind of person Gwyn, the Sun King, is, judging from the fact that after his death, the Welsh Wild Hunt undead collected sacrifices for him at all costs to prolong their lives, he should have been a competent god.
Faced with such a respectable god, he didn't mind lending a hand, fulfilling the other party's wish, and allowing the other party to die peacefully.
Hearing the kindness in these words, Gwyn took off his seven-cornered crown and pleaded:
"If possible, please take my place and let them end this eternal life of pain."
Lorne understood that the "they" Gwyn was referring to were the Wild Hunt army under his command and the transformed undead.
Once Gwyn, the main god, disappears, these undead who have lost their support will lose the only light in the darkness, and will completely fall into depravity, setting off one disaster after another.
"Aren't you the King of the Wild Hunt in Wales? Is there no way to free them?" Loen was a little confused.
"There are too many corpses buried in this world, and the filth accumulated by death far exceeds the speed of the world's self-purification. Moreover, the power I possess is not complete. Even if I try my best, I can only temporarily appease them and slow down the outbreak of the [Disaster], but I cannot completely free these undead souls."
Gwen shook his head, a trace of helplessness appearing on his old and haggard face.
Then, he looked up at the unknown young god, sensing the blazing, dazzling, pure fire within this body, with a glimmer of hope in his eyes:
"But you are different. You are stronger and younger than me. Your flame is full of the power of light, which seems to be able to purify the filth of death and the resentment in the soul. So, I beg you to grant them salvation and free them from suffering..."
The withered hands held up the golden crown, waiting for the choice of the young god.
Loen hesitated for a moment, then slowly lowered his head, allowing Gwyn to put the crown on his head.
As soon as the crown touched his skin, the divine will in his mind spread out in all directions like a tide, communicating with the Wild Hunt army in the gray fog.
Obviously, this is the artifact that Gwyn used to command the Wild Hunt army.
As the ceremony was completed, the flame symbolizing light was rekindled in the broken altar, where only embers remained, and the restless undead calmed down.
Gwen felt the long-lost warmth, and a relieved smile appeared on his cracked cheeks. He looked at Lorne and murmured:
"I hope my choice is right, and you can really save them and lead this dying world towards [light]..."
A dying world?
Is there something wrong with the Celtic Age of Gods?
Luo En's expression changed, and he was about to ask, but the withered body in front of him had turned into ashes and drifted away with the wind.
Riddler!
Loen muttered inwardly, and could only suppress the doubts in his heart for the time being, turning his head to look at the blue-gray stone throne.
It seems that he can only sit in Gwyn's seat for the time being and purify or restrain this out-of-control Wild Hunt army.
Having made up his mind, Loen, with the crown on his head, walked up the steps, bent down and sat on the cold and hard throne.
The golden sacred fire on the altar danced violently, like a rising warm sun. Gray mist also surged, and thousands of undead emerged from it, growling and howling, celebrating the coronation and succession of the new king.
Just as Loen was about to activate the divine power of [Fire] to see if he could purify these undead souls, a sharp whistle suddenly arose.
"laugh!"
A beam of dark blue light spears like thorns flew in from the valley mouth, pierced through the gray fog, brushed past Loen's head, and pierced through the entire back of the stone throne.
"Finally I found you, the culprit of the massacre!"
Along with the sound of sand being stirred, a figure wearing a blue-black branch-shaped hair crown, wearing an elegant blue-black gauze skirt, a black veil on her face, and with silver hair draped over her shoulders, walked slowly from the valley entrance.
It was like the cold moonlight illuminating the deep darkness.
Luo En: “…”
"You agree? Very good!"
"?"
"Then tonight we will settle the score for your crime of crossing the border without permission and leading the Wild Hunt to kill the living!"
The silver-haired woman snorted coldly, raised her hand and summoned a blue-black magic wand with a cross-shaped pyramid on the tip, like a spear, and waved it forward.
"It ends here, it ends here, all your filth will be shattered - Holy Spear, pull up the anchor!"
Amidst the cold humming, a blue-black magic array took shape above the throne, drawing in the vast moonlight and gathering it into beams of dim light, transforming into indestructible spear tips.
Feeling the cold wind approaching, Luo En suddenly woke up from his dream and quickly explained:
"Misunderstanding! This is a misunderstanding! The one who went to Britain to massacre the city was Gwyn, King of the Wild Hunt in Wales. It has nothing to do with me. I was just passing by!"
"Then why are you wearing his crown and sitting in his seat?"
"He gave it to me and said he needed my help. If you don't believe me, ask..."
Loen turned his head and looked at the ground which was completely dusty, his expression suddenly froze.
After a pause, he forced a dry smile on his face and asked cautiously:
"If I say this was an accident, would you believe me?"
Whoosh whoosh whoosh!
The silver-haired woman's wand suddenly fell, and thirteen light-like spears woven by magic factors passed through the magic array in the sky and smashed towards Loen on the throne.
(End of this chapter)
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