Jessica Jones's physical condition was very bad at this time. There were already a lot of wounds on her body, and her coat was torn into a puddle of rags by the zombies hanging on her body.
The numerous wounds made her look like a character from a horror movie.
Several hazy rays of light penetrated the dark lower labyrinth, and the hand ax left several marks on the wall during the constant fighting.
And the light has arrived, but it is not a symbol of hope.
Now she had no retreat, with the hard wall behind her, and she had gone through all the corners of the maze. The corpses on the ground were also spread over every inch of the maze.
Now there is only one way left to go.
Jessica's attack gave the airtight maze a ventilated place, but this supplement of air was not of much help to her tired body.
At most, it calmed her down a bit.
There was still a dense group of zombies in front of her, but she could already see the end of the zombie team.
But the number of zombies in front of her still made her despair.
The ground was covered with disgusting corpses, and Jessica Jones felt a strong sense of panic mixed with the stench, as if she was being manipulated to attack innocent people.
The iron fist that could not stop her broke her heart.
Her feet were covered in sticky paste, and every move seemed to consume all her strength.
At this moment, she finally realized the despair the attacker felt before facing death.
He waved his hand with his arm bones a little feebly, and the ax in his palm also had some small cracks.
"Is this what it feels like?"
Jessica said in a weak voice, too much flesh and blood was torn off from her body under the attack of the zombies.
The legs were much thinner and covered with uneven bite marks, like a roasted leg of lamb that had been chewed by mistake. The fibers of the meat bounced around, making it a little disgusting.
The pelvis can already be seen from the buttocks, and the rest of the meat has been scattered on the ground along with the fallen zombies.
Even a piece of long hair had fallen off a lot from her head at this time. It was pulled off by the zombies along with part of the scalp.
At this time, she looked like she was suffering from alopecia areata.
"come!"
Jessica yelled at the walking corpses that were approaching in front of her. It was a little difficult for those guys to move on the corpses of the same kind.
From time to time, he would fall to the ground and be crushed to pieces by the guys behind him, turning into corpses.
There are still many walking corpses.
Jessica swung the ax in her hand hard, but she lost her forearm muscles and let the weapon fall away!
On the holy mountain of Harrogath, Luke was absentmindedly dealing with Madoc's training, his eyes fixed on the projection above his head.
Jessica's miserable condition fell in his eyes, making his body tense.
Madoc just looked at him without saying a word, as if he didn't intend to remind him to focus on training.
"Ancestor Madoc, does she still have a chance to come out alive?"
Luke's small voice was almost muffled by the wind.
"I don't know, and neither does Orak. Only she knows now if she can or will come out."
Madoc wanted to hand Luke a bottle of wine, but there were no more treasures in the place that he knew of.
"You never say such convoluted words, so she's going to die?"
Luke forced a smile on his face, and then said in despair.
And Bruce Wayne, who was observing everything on the Holy Mountain, also became nervous. Life should not pass by easily.
He is struggling.
On the mountain peak not far away, Orak sat cross-legged on the ground, and a cow leg was slowly roasting in the fire rising in front of him.
Orak didn't like Jessica Jones as the heir, even though Bulkesso entrusted him with it.
Just watching a life gradually passing away in a secret realm will make this God of War feel lost.
“Do sinners deserve to live?”
Orak would always say this sentence, and he never quite understood the problem.
Especially after he died, he had a long time to think about this problem, but as he thought about it, he became more and more confused.
"What level of sinner is he? The kind who actively commits evil deeds and deserves to die? Or the kind who has to commit himself to darkness in order to survive?"
Banal looked at Orak in front of him with red eyes.
"Come on, Orak! People have to die. No matter why? You have never done any evil, so you still die? And the death is very miserable. Do you think you deserve to die? "
Banal opened his mouth, revealing a mouth that was a bit too sharp.
His dark red beard undulated as he spoke.
"Trials are always like this. Those recruits also died in my secret realm, but I have never been lost."
Orak did not turn around to look at Banal behind him, but lowered his head to make his body look smaller.
"I really don't understand why you keep nagging about what has happened? Aren't you on good terms with fate? He hasn't taught you to adapt?"
Banal pulled out a pair of machetes and waved them around randomly.
"Destiny always observes silently and never changes."
Orak spoke quietly as if he was relaying someone else's words.
These are the words of Israel, the Archangel of Fate and Balance.
Israel always stands in a neutral position and tries to find solutions to problems.
But he does not engage in change and seldom takes action.
Even though he has always devoted himself to fighting against demons, he has never told others the final result of the Battle of Evermark.
He is like a puppet on strings, withdrawn and rarely talks.
"Can he really know everything? It's like he already expected Malthael to be a threat."
Balnaar remains skeptical of Israel's power.
Just like a fortune teller, if everything he says can change, what's the point of everything he says?
If everything he said was destined, then it would be equally meaningless for him to say it.
Banal does not believe in such a thing as fate. In his opinion, the value of fate is not as valuable as the stones that can be seen everywhere.
"Israel doesn't understand human nature, he's just looking for balance."
Orak turned the corbel over the fire and said casually.
"Fuck Archangel! Orak! I only know what you want to do and just do it. Will you regret fighting Hamelin?"
Banal swung his two swords and slashed at Orak's shoulder.
With a harsh sound of metal friction, Orak held the God of War Blade in one hand and guided the two knives to the ground beside him.
"I'm not going to be convinced by you, just like I've never been able to convince you."
Orak stood up, and his huge figure completely enveloped Banal.
"But I can defeat you!"
Orak roared, and a shock wave extinguished the pile of flames. The snow on the ground was also blown away, revealing the densely packed recruits' hand axes stuck on the rocks.
These were the weapons of the new recruits who wanted to be his heirs at that time, and each hand ax represented the loss of a life.
These recruits did not die in the fight with the devil, but stayed in his difficult secret realm.
"Then come!"
Banal's roar caused saliva to pop out of his mouth, and he charged towards Orak in a defenseless manner!
This kind of fighting was something the two of them had long been accustomed to, and it happened every time someone was about to die in Orak's trial.
This conversation has been going on for hundreds of years.
…
In a room at Heising's institution, something is changing.
"Silas Victoria. You are my child now."
Accardo showed a strange smile to the newly awakened Ms. Victoria in front of him.
In other words, Accardo's smile always carries a strange and evil aura.
Even a little crazy.
"What's wrong with me!?"
Miss Victoria, who had just woken up, was trying hard to recall what had happened before.
As an ordinary person, he rashly intervened in the extraordinary world and was taken hostage by a vampire wearing a priest's costume. Then he was asked by Akkad in front of him if he was a virgin.
The moment she answered in the affirmative, she was shot through the chest with a large-caliber pistol.
"Shouldn't I die?"
Silas behaves like an innocent girl, and she is not qualified at all as a police officer.
But perhaps it was this innocence that gave her a new life under Accardo,
Even if she became a pure vampire at this time, she didn't show any merits worthy of attention.
Perhaps beauty counts as one.
"Acardo, guys from SHIELD are here, saying they want to use our power to eliminate vampires."
Integra crossed his right arm and spoke in a cold tone.
It is not difficult to hear her ridicule from her words.
SHIELD's style of always wanting to control everything has long made various organizations around the world dissatisfied.
Helsing is no exception.
"I obey your orders, Master."
Accardo left Silas, who was still dazed, and spoke to Integra.
The relationship between him and Integura is somewhat subtle, and neither of the two people involved can define it.
Accardo smiled brightly, took off his blood-red hat, placed it on his chest, and bent down to salute.
Several red eyes opened in the shadows on the ground, making the room feel much colder in an instant.
"Deal with the things around you first. Those guys are not worth investing too much energy in. I will mobilize you only if necessary."
Integra turned around, she did not intend to get too involved in Accardo's training of his "daughter".
She can completely trust Accardo. This trip is just to find someone to relieve her inner emotions.
Vampire events have become more frequent in the UK recently, and Tegula has felt a bit of pressure.
As Helsing's neighbor, she would not rashly intervene in SHIELD's battle.
In other words, she hopes that SHIELD can learn to respect other existences through constant losses. Only respect is the beginning of cooperation.
Coulson's arrival is just the first step in respect, and Nick Fury's respect is never easy to enjoy.
Helsing will not stand idly by, but help will be valuable only when it is truly necessary.
Accardo watched Integra leave with a smile, and then a flash of red light flashed in his eyes.
Silas, who was still groping for the wounds on her body, felt excited. She felt that she was about to know something terrible.
…
"This place is very abnormal. This door that I can't kick open, and the car covered in blood.
Even the faint stench coming from this place reminded me to be careful.
Evil is everywhere and danger can come at any time.
The stench was not that of a rotting corpse, but it always made me feel the presence of sin. This contradictory feeling even made me feel a little dazed.
I don’t understand why this is, or maybe there’s something being hidden here, but I haven’t seen the truth yet. "
The homeless man sitting on the bench curled up and wrote carefully in a brown notebook.
There are quite a few differences between his behavior and that of a normal tramp, but the wooden sign makes these differences less noticeable.
Guys who advocate doomsday theories have some degree of cerebral palsy. How can humans know the trajectory of destiny?
Even if there are people who can predict the future, those people will not let themselves be exposed.
His body was squeezed in front of him as if curled up, his legs were on the stool, and his knees blocked the notebook, making the writing movement less conspicuous.
He saw the agents observing from a distance from the beginning, so he acted more like an ordinary vagabond.
There may be something wrong with the word "performance". He is a tramp himself, but not so normal.
So a homeless guy trying to break in and find some chance of survival isn't that remarkable.
It's just that he couldn't kick open the door.
The blacksmith's shop made him feel like he was being guided at first, but this feeling shifted when Bulcasso left.
He knew in a moment that the feeling that attracted him came from Bulcasso.
On the first day of a long observation, the goal was determined.
The homeless man scanned the surroundings again, then walked in the direction he came from with the wooden sign that read "End of the World" written like graffiti.
He carefully avoided the sight of the agents not far away and acted like a normal homeless man.
It's just that his steps are a little nervous.
He is just an ordinary human being. Although he is somewhat capable, he cannot ignore danger.
Discretion and concealment were his method of survival.
The ground at the door of the blacksmith shop made him particularly uneasy and even angry.
He will always be angry, but more often than not, sadness is born from anger.
Now he was going to follow that attraction-like feeling to find Bulcasso.
He felt that he could get the answer to his recent changes from Bulcasso.
Even if he didn't know Bulcaisso's name yet, he didn't know what Bulcaisso represented.
But "never compromise", right?
Nothing could stop him except death.
