Thankfully this battle has a time limit.

After more than ten minutes of fighting, Oliver's opponent finally gave up the fight for efficiency reasons. He twisted his body in the middle of attacking Oliver and neatly cut off the skull of the prisoner next to him. The originally scattered death row prisoners seemed to have found carrion crows, and quickly gathered in the strong **** atmosphere.

People are fighting together like beasts biting each other. Blood spurted out, and the stumps flew. The black and red minced meat covered the ground that was continuously bombarded by the magic circle. Oliver suppressed the tumbling stomach acid, his face became almost as pale as the skeleton helmet, and the hand that clenched the hilt of the sword did not let go. He retreated and defended, pulling himself out of the frenzied death vortex with difficulty.

With the help of Oliver from time to time, Randy's defense is not leaking. That heavy shield is like a moving fortress wall, and few people are willing to waste more than five minutes to challenge it.

On the way to retreat, Oliver almost stepped on a mutilated body. And the owner of that body was falling on his back, full of horror and unwillingness. His bloodshot eyes were bulging, and powdery blood foam and vague mourning came out of his throat.

"God, I won't die." The man exclaimed vaguely, "I won't die in this shit..."

"Kill him, Ramon," Randy said softly. "He wouldn't have lived long."

Oliver shook his head slightly, Randy sighed and said nothing.

As if a lifetime had passed, the announcement of the end finally sounded. The death row prisoners put away their weapons and gathered together again, almost all of them with sticky dark red blood plasma on their faces. And the clean Oliver and Randy seemed out of place in the meantime.

The number is down by nearly two-thirds.

The man with the white cloth on his face did not say anything similar to "congratulations", he seemed to be able to see through the white cloth, and turned his face half a circle, as if he wanted to see the death row inmates in front of him one by one . Perhaps it was his own delusion, Oliver held his breath—the man's face stayed in their direction for extra long.

He then lost consciousness.

Oliver's last memory is of falling to the ground - not so much falling, as the earth slapped the side of his head. He focused too much on the masked man, unprepared for the sudden onset of pain and paralysis.

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was the pain on the side of his face.

The sword of rest was held tightly in his hand. And underneath him was the familiar bump, and the hot and sour air lingered on the tip of his nose. Everything just now seemed like a nightmare. It's a pity that the mud on Oliver's chin is still mixed with minced meat and blood, and the uncomfortable moist touch bites his skin, always reminding him of the real reality.

He returned to the original carriage, the crowded people were gone, and there was only one—or two—companion left in the same carriage. Randy didn't squeeze Oliver into the corner this time, and the sturdy killer sat upright in the other corner, his shield firmly in his hand.

Oliver straightened the skeleton helmet on his head. Thankfully, the Binding Charm didn't fail.

"You...are you all right?" He forced a smile.

Randy's eyes swept across his face quickly, his eyes were complicated, and he did not answer his question.

"Where did the others go?" Oliver swallowed nervously and added carefully.

"Mobile barracks." Randy replied slowly, "...It seems you really don't know anything."

Oliver is a little embarrassed. He laughed dryly and subconsciously wanted to scratch his head, but only scratched the hard bone helmet.

"They train death row prisoners there—and when the training is honest, they are sent to death row corps and sold to various countries. I think you should have heard a little about death row corps in various countries, which are 'finished products', alive The weapon." The killer grinned mockingly, "The taste is terrible, but it is said that the evaluation of each country is very good."

Sounds like a bad place, Oliver grabbed the edge of the cape nervously with one hand. His temples were still throbbing with pain, like he had just woken up from a hangover. The collar on his neck began to **** his strength again, making his muscles sore and weak, and the Sword of Rest in his hand seemed to be several times heavier. But now he was even getting used to the feeling of stomach acid surging along with the pain.

"What about us?" Oliver asked more carefully.

"Blight Castle." Randy looked at him for a moment, with a hint of pity in his eyes—not mocking pity, but genuine pity. That look made Oliver's back grow furious. "...I think we're almost there."

"Is there anything I need to pay attention to?" Oliver continued to ask with his eyes fixed. Randy seemed reluctant to talk to him, contrary to his previous normal. Oliver felt he had done nothing wrong, which was not a good sign.

"No." Randy sighed, "Ramon, I know you're nervous...it's useless."

Oliver blinked, trying to fill his eyes with polite inquiry.

"I've always seen people very accurately." This time Randy didn't respond to his gaze, instead focusing on a blood stain on the shield. "You're not from 'our side'. To be honest, I don't want to have any more interaction with you - otherwise, when you disappear completely, our mood will become worse."

"Totally disappear?" Oliver clenched the hilt of the sword, and his back was a little cold.

"Do you know where upright people suffer?" Randy pulled the shield, and the edge of the metal shield scratched across the floor of the car, making a harsh squeak. "Your thoughts are too good to guess. There are only a few. You have to know that the harder things are, the more thoroughly they will shatter." He muttered, his tone a little cold.

"I can probably guess what you're thinking. You're thinking that no matter where the wither castle is, you can always find one or two not-so-bad people to dig in and work together - after all you The strength is not bad, and I can definitely find a loophole in the mess and escape from there lucky."

"You believe that no matter how bad people are, there will always be goodwill left in their hearts, you believe that you can arouse their will and hope for survival, and you believe that goodwill will always outlast evil."

Oliver opened his mouth, but failed to make a sound. He could feel his heart sinking slightly—Randy's tone was gradually turning cold.

"You believe that good is rewarded for good and evil is rewarded for evil. All despair will end, and there will always be a solution."

"This ghost place will make you abandon these thoughts, and you will regret your decision today - by comparison, killing a person is a lot easier."

The carriage jolted violently, and Oliver's body leaned forward for a few seconds. The carriage seemed to stop.

"We had a great time working together, Ramon." Randy finally looked up and looked into his eyes again, his tense face showing no emotion. "goodbye."

Almost the same second. The door of the carriage was slammed open, and a strong light penetrated the dark carriage.

Oliver was the first to get out of the carriage. He resisted the soreness of his legs and forced himself to look up at the building in front of him—

It's hard to tell if this is a mountain or a castle. The castle in front of it seems to be carved from the whole mountain, and the architectural style is unexpectedly atmospheric, which does not match the slightly slender name of "Withering Castle". Countless man-made buildings surround this bizarre mountain-shaped castle, and Oliver doesn't see the boundaries of this place at a glance - if you count the surrounding small stone castles, its size is even close to a medium-sized city. A dark and cold mountain city.

The masked man did not give him much time to observe the terrain.

The man was not exactly the same as Oliver remembered. He lost a lot of weight. The clothes of the right size were now one size larger, which made the man with the white cloth cover his face look a little bony.

Oliver knew why.

The man quivered oddly, then split. It seems that the body is made of colored mud **** - and what makes people uncomfortable is that the part of the masked man that was missing due to the split did not grow back on his own, but remained missing. Not only does he look horribly thin now, he doesn't even have a decent human form anymore.

The "people" who split off were also masked with white cloth, and he led Randy to the other direction. Oliver desperately turned his head to look, but Randy didn't respond at all.

Oliver rubbed the active collar that was slowly wriggling around his neck, sighed, and finally withdrew his gaze.

The masked geek didn't lead him through a door, but headed straight for a wall. Oliver tried to get away, but the inhuman thing seemed to have an invisible leash tied to its hands—and if he got too far, the sudden pain would surely bring him to his knees. Originally, his physical strength was running out by the collar, so Oliver decided to suspend his resistance first. Find the time to…

Like Randy said.

No, not right. Oliver shook his head violently, trying to shake the cold words out of his ears. He'll make it, Nemo's still waiting for him, they've only just met - and Nemo's going crazy right now.

Yes, his lover is waiting for him and must be looking for himself with his companions. Their journey has not been smooth sailing, and it is not that they have not seen cruel scenes. Oliver beat himself up desperately, it was just another puzzle, and the answer must be hiding somewhere.

However, when he actually stepped into the Wither Castle, he suddenly understood what Randy meant.

Through the fantasy-like walls and across the cold and dry corridor, the first thing they passed was a huge square iron cage. The cage was densely packed with people, men and women next to each other, motionless, except for the faint ups and downs of their chests. They were wearing thin cloth robes of the same pattern, stained with dirt to make it impossible to see their original color. The space only allows them to stand, unable to do anything other than breathe.

Their collarbone is nailed with a uniform metal ring, the cold metal pierces the flesh, and at the end hangs a half-slap-sized metal plate. No one spoke, except for the occasional low groan, and the only thing left was the turbid and suppressed breathing. The cage was higher than the ground, with a complete set of purification arrays engraved under it, with a complete drainage system. But even so, the faint stench continued to drift everywhere.

Like a trapped livestock.

Hearing the voice, the crowd in the cage swept their eyes. There was no emotion in the eyes, blank and numb, like the eyes of a dead animal that were about to collapse. No thinking, no pain, not even despair. Oliver couldn't think of any other word to describe that state than those who were still "alive."

They stared at him with empty eyes, not expecting or pleading, more like a subconscious reaction to a moving object - the first time Oliver saw such a look in a human.

It scared him for the first time.

Oliver bit the corner of his mouth, and after a numb pain, the smell of blood made him awake for a while. His throat was so dry that he couldn't even spit, and the collar sucked just enough to keep him on his feet. Exhaustion had completely exhausted his spirit, and the stomach bag that had not received food for a long time began to twitch. He tried to force himself to continue thinking, but thinking was like a rusted cog, producing only meaningless clutter.

He hasn't felt so helpless in a long time since the night he killed his father.

And this time there was no warm support around him.

Can't despair, Oliver yelled at himself sternly in his heart. Not at all.

(m..=)