After I died, my personal maid rebelled.

He crawled through the rats' tunnels, and he could smell the sinister aura of the venomous snake.

The blood seeping from the cracks in the bricks guided him. The air was rotting, tormenting Dane's nasal cavity as if he were breathing the air from the lungs of a dead man. Only the stench stained his mucous membranes black.

The enemy is cautious, and becoming a patient hunter is no easy task.

In order to complete the infiltration of the city of Kuru, nearly half of the special forces members have become food for the monsters. They are corpses hanging in the church, their abdomens ripped out by blood hunters, and subjected to humiliation like automatic blood-drinking machines.

Suppressing all his emotions, Dane hid in the darkness. Outside the window, hoarse hymns played, and the nuns' desperate shouts masked the restlessness of the crowd.

Amidst the interplay of light and shadow, Dane's eyes, gripping the giant axe tightly, possessed a silent yet sharp intensity.

The illusory holiness gnawed at the last shred of reason in people's hearts. The flickering firelight and the black robes of the savior when she took the stage resembled a cold cemetery church.

The hypocritical saint said: "By casting aside everything, you can break free from your shackles and find paradise."

In the polluted, intense light, the withered arm of the savior saint stretched upwards, as if yearning for the dark, gray branches. Boundless mist overflowed from the fingertips of half-rotten bone, as if the miracle of yesteryear had been reenacted.

The frenzied figures disappeared into the fog; the living came, the dead went, miracles devoured the ordinary, indifferent to the future. Amidst the debauched cheers, Dane suddenly stood up, swung his giant axe, smashed open the window, and leaped from the sky.

"Fraudster, the gates of hell will be open for you!"

It was a strike that pierced through the heavens and the earth; the blinding white light dissipated amidst the tremors of space, and then suddenly unleashed an even more terrifying riot.

In the shaking city, countless footsteps sounded like a flood overflowing a dam, and the sounds of fierce fighting grew closer and closer until the city gate collapsed, and a wave of air mixed with water mist and dust roared out, obscuring people's vision.

The wind whipped the battle flag as small groups of special forces members struggled toward the agreed-upon location. Catherine, whose face was half-bitten off, carried the heavily injured and unconscious Dane as they fled the city, rushing into the mountains without looking back.

As the mist slowly dissipated, the Blood Hunter army, which had been roaring just moments before, gradually fell into an eerie silence. When hundreds of thousands of mutated addicts rushed out of the city gates towards the Blood Hunters, what appeared before them was a terrifying army darker than pitch black.

The interplay of emerald green and dark light cast a shadow over the orderly ranks.

A towering figure with flashing red eyes stood in a row of loyalists holding guns. Black mist emanated from the armor of the Legion Commander of Ereon, and High Sister Arabella, holding a holy staff, unleashed her aura. In the distance, the roar of the Undead King suddenly exploded in the sky above the battlefield.

"The corpses of the fallen will forge the throne of our Lord's skull! A blood sacrifice for death!"

Eryon drew his sword, a cold glint flashing, the war horns sounded, and corrosive flames mingled with the chilling black wind, grinding the earth into blood. Charge! The loyalist legion launched an unstoppable charge; the battle that would decide humanity's future had officially begun.

"I am the demon in the northern snowstorm, I am the blade in the Duke's hand. When the lament of the false gods is played, only my lord will stand firm against eternal destruction!"

The loyalists' spears tore through the monster's body, crushing limbs and broken arms in their wake. Their flesh underwent continuous undead mutations, and as their height suddenly increased to three meters, furious roars like iron hammers emanated from their throats.

Swinging its arms, the Blood Hunter smashed the soldier into a bloody pulp, its killing intent rising ever higher. The Blood Hunter, launching a sneak attack, bit the calf of the loyal soldier. The lifeless blood was like a deadly poison, and the foul smell alone made the Blood Hunter want to avoid it.

On the local battlefields, the loyalist legion was invincible, and even advanced rapidly to the city gate through terrifying slaughter despite layers of blockades.

However, the enemy forces were too numerous. Swarms of Blood Hunters and crazed mutants launched attacks from multiple directions to the north, and the pressure on Lucas's blocking position was so great that he could not voluntarily withdraw from the battlefield.

Stop chatting, hurry up and provide support!

Lucas turned his head and cursed angrily, hacking wildly through the pile of flesh and blood. Some of the flesh and blood were alive, and some were dead, but no one cared about life or death at the moment. They could only repeatedly fight for the position in front of the valley around the pile of corpses.

Forget about elegant swordsmanship and nimble footwork; Lucas only knew how to slash and slash harder. He had come to understand what the battlefield was all about: forget everything else! Kill all the enemy soldiers and survive through simple and efficient slaughter!

After learning the information from the adventurer, the veteran immediately picked up his crossbow, ran and shot until he reached Lucas's back, then switched to a long spear and began sweeping across the ground.

Amidst the fierce battle, the veteran still had time to examine Lucas's aura and the golden sword in Lucas's hand, which was imbued with life magic but appeared somewhat mottled.

The veteran suddenly retorted, "Kid, you've got some dirty thoughts."

Blood gushed from the Blood Hunter's neck and poured into his throat, nearly choking Lucas to death on the spot. He spat out the blood, kicked the corpse aside, and turned to block another Blood Hunter's attack, gritting his teeth as he spoke.

"My mind is perfectly clear... What are you trying to figure out all day? You're so old and still so gossipy."

"You've got someone in your heart, haven't you?" After repelling the attack, the veteran quickly waved to organize the throwing of Molotov cocktails. Just as the flames exploded, Lucas, who had just caught his breath and hadn't even had a sip of water, heard the veteran whisper in his ear.

"How many are there?"

"You f***ing..."

Outside the city of Kuru Rong, war raged. Hours after the war broke out, more and more goddess soldiers were rushing to join the battle from all directions. In the sky, a massive army of man-eating locusts had appeared, densely covering the dark clouds.

But the city was eerily quiet.

In mid-air, two children with locust wings released their grip, and the elven princess Tina landed lightly.

She first looked at the building that had been split in two and the long trenches on the ground, and then at a lump of flesh that the nuns had pieced together and barely restored to human form.

"I need to mobilize a group of magicians. The Savior Saintess has stopped working, and it seems her personality has returned."

Tina seemed to be talking to someone, but when she walked up to the pile of "trash," her expression was colder than an ice sculpture.

"Such a low will to survive? Do you really think you can find relief?"

Tina kicked the newly glued-on piece of flesh hard, and amidst the nuns' horrified expressions, still feeling unsatisfied, she grabbed the disheveled long hair and lifted the head up.

The two looked at each other, blinked slightly, and spoke words devoid of warmth.

"Don't use anger to mask your inner fear, Tina. Your future is just as tasteless and ridiculous. Slaughtering your own people for the gods won't even earn you a promise; that's your greatest tragedy."

"You want to defy the goddess?!"

Tina suddenly squeezed hard with her fingertips, bursting the two eyeballs of the savior saint and tearing off a string of blood vessels and water stains.

A drop of blood slid from her eye, and the savior smiled. "If you hadn't betrayed all races, I don't think our God would have conquered the world so easily."

"And did someone tell you that your temper is getting worse? Oh, God, I'm sorry, I forgot. All those elves who loved you, you killed them all."