It was as if the oil-filled sea had been ignited, and the people in the garden seemed to be sinking into the water, and the fire outlined a bright background in the distance, illuminating half of the night sky like a sunset scene. And the sunset didn't go down, further burning the poor people's little wealth.

There is a quiet oasis hidden in this sea of ​​fire; in the oasis there is the deepest darkness bred by three mysterious disciples; the black door in the darkness is wide open...

A heavy black mist squeezed out from the crack of the door, and the cold air that had been covered in dust for thousands of years approached.

Bill found that the residents of Yiyuan on the boarding house were trembling and shrank into his arms.

Above the sky, beyond the clouds, the stars in charge of decay and demise shone with strange light, but unfortunately the emperor's star-gazer was disturbed by the fire in the city and had no time to look up. And the residents were also blinded by the flames in front of them - no one knew there was a vision in the sky.

A footstep, a sound, like the sound of swallowing in an ancient well, like a chilling wind passing through the dead wood forest, as if it came from deep and deep ancient times...

He was originally the power of decay displayed by the creation of Genor. With an invisible sickle, he harvested creatures whose fates between heaven and earth have been exhausted. Later, with the prosperity of human civilization, He was given many names, the traditions of Nandel continent. In belief, he is Akon, the **** of death, and some evangelists call him the angel of death. His names also include the reaper who walked across the plains and rivers, the master of the Black Death...

And tonight, he appeared in the world in his original appearance.

There is a very classic question in the exploration world: is it always the deity of the gods that is invited in the ceremony?

The senior will answer: According to the strength of the spiritual power and the purity of the ritual, it may be "most" of the gods; it is "highly refined" of the concept of "god".

In fact, there is no specific object sitting and waiting in his kingdom of God. God is not an individual and has no image at all. It is people's beliefs that give them their image.

People do not know the truth about God, but they believe in the illustrations and murals in books.

When those pure rule rulers set foot in the world, they naturally can only reside in the subconscious image of the summoner.

Everyone who is witnessing at the scene at this moment has to realize one thing - "death" is here at this moment.

It is the figure that many creatures are afraid to avoid. The thin but tall body is wrapped in black robes like night, and the scythe on his shoulder is so magnificent and high that it is difficult to distinguish whether it is a weapon that He uses to harvest life, or The dark crescent moon in the sky.

The Stygian River meanders and diverts beside him, as if condensed for thousands of years. The illusory ferry boats drifted by, the silent ferrymen and the boats grow together, the broken shrouds on their bodies drift with the wind of the yellow spring, the undead sit in the ferryboats, and the living cannot look directly at their chaotic faces. ...

In another dimension, death appears to be very busy and "lively".

As an important part of the "spiritual ring", the whereabouts of life after death is endowed with ancient meanings in the eyes of the "dead agent".

The heartbeats of the three explorers froze and almost stopped. They felt the contempt of the death deity for the three summoners.

The head of the owner of the black pyramid appeared by chance from the black robe, and it was actually a stern black cat. The different pupils of one gold and one green illustrate the metaphor of divinity and death.

Above his head, a huge skeleton that looks like a religious painting floats. If you stare at it, you will find that the skeleton is like an illusion painting composed of countless death scenes.

Standing behind the agent, the gatekeeper of the underworld, Crow Lord Helotta, had to crawl on the ground at this moment.

The **** of death didn't care about the servants under his feet at all, and walked towards the terrace.

The black clouds in the sky seem to be too heavy, sinking into the world in large groups. Surrounded by a black robe, it rolled forward like a black mudslide.

The people on the terrace finally felt the chill through their bodies. A black wind blew through with the meaning of decay. All the torches that were lit on the terrace were extinguished, and even the flames on the smiling face were extinguished for a while...

"Nero" with a red chest turned his head, surprised to find that among the miracles he constructed, another **** appeared, and his presence was no less than his own.

As the black cloud fell to the ground, the star finally appeared, the dim star symbolizing the **** of death was shining strangely in the sky at this moment, just like an eye mocking the blindness of the world.

The sickle rises high, like a crescent moon declaring doom in the sky...

Then, it reminds me of a guillotine that slashes down like a guillotine!

In that pure chopping, the air was split, the space was split, and the bottom layer of the source substance that supported the existence of the miracle also had deep cracks, and the layers of the surface were split, revealing the deepest demise...

The door to the underworld was so open.

Even gods cannot resist the fate of perishing.

Philipides' eyes were amazed, and the harp in his arms quickly decayed into a pile of rotten wood. He seemed to be sixty years old when he turned into a human, and the soul of a **** was sucked into the gate of the underworld like a shining mist...

The Dionysian godhead, who had been wandering in the closed workshop for ten years, watched in disbelief as his body was swept away like sand.

When the crack closed, Nero's body had disappeared with the wind. Losing the center, the miracle began to shake and shatter.

Death turned around and passed the smiling man, who had already fallen to the ground, with smoke on his body, turned his face and glanced, a pair of cat pupils like a crystal ball showed no emotion. Then, he continued to walk towards the door, unaffected by the collapse at all, and his back was clear.

The garden set was broken, revealing the appearance of an old workshop. The **** of death still moved forward, and finally came to the agent of the undead.

The prostrate summoner raised his head and stared at the King of Death with calm eyes.

Death took out an ancient silver coin from his bosom. One side of the silver coin is a monarch who does not know the dynasty, and the other side is ancient words.

The head is up and it is alive, and the word is up is death - after using the dead night, the undead agent has a half probability of dying directly.

Standing in the junk workshop~lightnovelpub.net~ Death bounced the silver coin high.

The silver coin that decides her life and death turns and turns in the eyes of the agent...

Finally, the silver coin fell to the ground and bounced a few times before falling into the dust.

The agent of the undead probed to look at the silver coins in the dust, and then, her whole body loosened, and she fell to the ground as if her soul had been drawn. The **** of death stepped into the door, and the impenetrable pitch-black door was sewed together. The air is as good as ever.

The world of death is pitch black, and the crazy godhead of Phipedis continues to fall in the darkness.

When he was still thinking about how long it would take to fall into the world full of undead, he fell into a pool.

After floating from the water, he was surprised to find that the water in the pool that wet Nero's white robe was actually wine. A full pool of wine.

It's wine! ?

How is this going?

He looked around in surprise and found that the wine pool was surrounded by curved glass walls...

where is this?

Then, he felt the huge glass goblet rising rapidly, rising, breaking through the clouds and mist, revealing a huge face in the sky.

That face was familiar to him—it was his own face.

The self in the wine glass was full of panic, and the giant face in the sky had a restrained and polite smile, as if at a cocktail party...

One of the modern gods, Philipdis himself.

He was wearing a modern tuxedo at the moment, taking a sip of wine at a dinner party where fireworks were blooming in the air, in a place where the ladies and jewels were shining.

As if he had tasted a very wonderful taste, his eyes shone, and there was obviously a little more passion and even crazy light in it.