Warriors will die if they charge.

Marcus felt that the current situation was very strange.

To the left is the concrete jungle where I lived in my previous life. In the bright sunshine, an old man in a sleeveless shirt at the entrance seems to have spent his whole life leisurely playing chess. A group of kids are gathered under the willow tree, sharing a single rice cell phone and discussing which hero is stronger.

To the right is the dock of Linhe Town where the original owner used to work. The ever-flowing Nileka River and the rain wash over the decaying boardwalk in waves. A worker accidentally falls into the water and is swept away by a prostitute's bed. People grit their teeth, and water droplets slide down their hair and onto their bent backs.

He felt as if he were stepping not on the ground, but on memories, a kind of tentacles between the future and the past.

【Who are you? 】

A clear and solemn voice echoed in his mind. He couldn't tell if the voice was male or female, but it felt very... illusory, like someone in a cage on the other side of the world calling softly across endless time and space.

who am I?

What do you want to say that makes me choose one side?

【Who are you? 】

That ethereal voice repeated itself.

Marcus pondered for a few seconds, looking at the familiar scene on his left—the riverside town on the edge of the world, decaying with time.

He disliked that run-down place, but he knew in his heart that there was a crisis to be resolved.

As the captain of Rye, he is stuck in the past, which is the betrayal of Bardin and Trish.

"I am who I am, shut the fuck up. You should discuss this kind of bullshit philosophical question with Emma. I'm a warrior, I don't play this game."

He kicked away the illusory dream before him and stepped into the real illusion.

Two different worlds receded from his feet like the tide. The willow tree, the dock, the old man's chess table, and the decaying boardwalk that had just stood in front of him all faded away, disappearing like yellow butterflies fluttering away.

Marcus looked down at the ground beneath his feet. It was no longer the whiskers of memory, but a huge, greenish-blue scale, as large as a ship's plank.

A thin mist seeped from the gaps in the scales, carrying a scent he knew all too well.

The ancient decay of the swamp, and the scorching heat of the setting sun.

He looked up and found that his feet were standing on the body of a huge serpent as large as a mountain range.

The swamp was shrouded in a thick, milky white fog, and the setting sun still hung on the horizon at the far end, casting only a very thin, pale yellow light.

Is this the path that Granny Keshaqi was talking about? So the Water Ghost Queen is a giant green python?

He carefully examined the giant snake's body and discovered a thin, black snake, resembling a leech, coiled between the scales, winding its way to the edge of his field of vision.

He felt something was amiss and shouted from the spot, "Bardin, Trissis, can you hear me? Dwarf, drow!"

Bardin's surprised and flustered voice reached my ears in a blur:

"I can hear you... Tough guy, what the hell is wrong with you! You were convulsing like you were about to die, and then you suddenly jumped up, it startled me!"

Marcus nodded, realizing that it was probably the effect of the drug; he was experiencing a strange hallucination.

He didn't know the principle behind it, but the giant snake beneath his feet was undoubtedly a path to leave the swamp.

"I've found the way, follow me."

On the isolated island surrounded by swamps, Bardin stared wide-eyed as Marcus stepped into the sunlit swamp.

They just tested it with stones; the spot is deep enough to bury a person.

"You're such a tough guy..."

Marcus, whose eyes were filled with milky white, couldn't hear what Bardin was saying. He walked briskly into the mud, his boots sinking into the mud before easily pulling them out and continuing on.

Bardin swallowed hard, finding it hard to comprehend the mess he was in. How could a tough guy who had taken a voodoo potion that seemed destined to kill him be able to traverse the swamp so easily?

The dwarf walked to the edge of the island, looked down at the bubbling swamp, and gritted his teeth, shouting, "Hard man, what are you standing on?!"

"A giant python."

Bardin was silent for a moment, then took a step forward, stepping where Marcus had just stepped, his feet slowly sinking into the mud.

A slippery, impatient desire to devour one's entire being was masked by a slow, deliberate breath, preventing the body from sinking further.

He continued to step his left foot into the mud, then used both hands to pull his right foot out of the mud and took a step forward.

"Okay, I believe you."

Trish and Jenny stood on the edge of the deserted island, watching the two tough men struggling to walk through the swamp.

The apprentice mage clenched her sleeves, feeling as if everything she had learned had become ineffective at this moment. She turned her head and spoke with difficulty:

"Sister Trissy, we should wait..."

Trissy took a step forward and calmly followed behind Bardin. She could feel the thread between Marcus and Bardin trembling after Marcus took the voodoo potion.

His thoughts and mind went into a brief frenzy, but it quickly subsided, as if he had found something to rely on.

"Keep up with us, staying behind is just waiting to die."

"Okay." Jenny raised her head, not daring to look down, afraid that she would fall into an eternal abyss.

The scorching sun made everyone anxious and restless. Along the way, they saw hard, white animal skeletons, withered agave plants floating in the mud, and stone slabs with hard outlines protruding from the mud.

Marcus, leading the way, stepped over the serpent's slightly undulating body. To him, it was just a minor bend, but the three of them had to climb over a huge rock.

He might have received divine help… Bardin thought to himself, watching the tough guy's back as he effortlessly flipped over the boulder, seemingly drunk.

Maybe there really is a water ghost queen. This is truly a crazy adventure, aha!

After walking for an unknown amount of time, the thick fog made Marcus feel as if he were walking on the horizon. Amidst the unchanging scales and clouds, some feathers that suddenly revealed their blurry outlines caught his attention.

On either side of its broad, mountain-like body were a pair of limp, blue wings that drooped helplessly towards the bottom of the mist.

The wings were larger than anything he had ever seen; a single feather seemed capable of covering the entire basin of the Nileca River.

Feathered serpent, could it be that a group of Mayans live in the riverside forest?

He turned his head and shouted loudly to the mage apprentice, who was nowhere to be seen: "Jenny, is there a winged snake in the world? A blue one, with scales bigger than a boat, and a single feather that could cover the entire Nileca River?"

A muffled voice, piercing through the hallucination, reached his ears: "No, there isn't..."

It's strange, those snake people who suddenly appeared, did they come to capture the feathered serpent?

Or perhaps the voodoo potion caused me to have some incomprehensible hallucinations, subconsciously applying the stereotype of the riverside forest to the American rainforest.

Marcus thought about it and decided to stop thinking about it, hoping to finish this journey as soon as possible.

He felt the effects of the medicine were fading, and the thin sunlight in the mist seemed to grow stronger.

"Speed ​​up, let's get out of here as soon as possible."

Marcus ran against the wind on the feathered serpent, making it extremely difficult for those crawling in the swamp. Had this guy taken some kind of voodoo potion, or something even stranger?

At the end of the road, he saw a huge snake's mouth, parallel to its body.

The feathered serpent was so large that even with its head tilted up at a ninety-degree angle, its true form could not be clearly seen.

He leaped into the feathered serpent's gaping maw. After a brief period of darkness, the sensation of his feet treading on stiff scales disappeared, replaced by a hard, stone-like feeling.

A towering, cone-shaped pyramid, hundreds of meters high, suddenly appeared before our eyes.

The pyramid is made up of nine trapezoidal platforms, each layer narrower than the one above, like steps that have been flattened.

The tower is built of grayish-white rock, and its surface is covered with a layer of moss and dark brown sediment that has been washed away by rain for countless years. The crevices are filled with tenacious ferns and vines.

The platform at the top of the pyramid was half-shrouded in the morning mist, revealing a black rectangular entrance—the opening of the temple, like the only place in the entire building that seemed to breathe.

Around the base, several broken stone pillars are scattered, their bodies engraved with spiral patterns, some of which have been swallowed by lichen.

The ground between the stone pillars was paved with small pieces of obsidian, which shimmered with a cold light in the setting sun.

Marcus gripped the obsidian dagger at his waist, the bleak sunset still lingering.

They remain in that "apocalyptic" world.

The dark brown sediment beneath the pyramid moss is dried blood...