stjorthotic Chapter 254 Dangerous People
Chapter 254 Dangerous People
Chapter 254 Dangerous People
Klein withdrew his gaze and looked down at his feet, where the tranquil gray mist flowed silently and slowly.
Judging from its appearance alone, it looks exactly like the gray-white mist behind the "hole" in the mirror world.
"Could that eerie mirror world really be beneath my feet?"
He muttered something under his breath, then gathered his thoughts and looked again through the prayer light that represented Sirion.
Cyril turned his gaze away from the eerie mirror world.
...It seems there's really no danger here; we can explore it.
The thought had barely formed in his mind when a rickshaw pulled by a headless corpse suddenly stopped in front of him.
On the rickshaw, a beautiful young woman in a brightly colored cheongsam, holding a round fan, looked at him with a seductive smile that could arouse desire.
The two stared at each other in silence, as if they were in different dimensions that were intersecting yet somewhat overlapping.
After a long silence, Cyril suddenly muttered under his breath:
"So, here, the headless body is the lowest level of society, the head, which is just a spine, represents the elite class, and those with intact bodies are at the top?"
"You can understand it that way."
He looked at the swollen woman in the rickshaw with surprise:
"Huh? You can talk?"
"Um, I mean you can see me and communicate with me normally?"
The young woman in the cheongsam on the rickshaw suddenly smiled with captivating charm:
"We're face to face, why can't you see me?"
Cyril didn't listen to her answer carefully; for a moment, he was completely captivated by her "beauty."
When he came to his senses, his expression froze.
...It seems that this is not simply a projection affected by the "City of Calamity".
Besides, "Charm" is such a troublesome ability.
After gathering his thoughts and suppressing the surging lust within him, he looked at the beautiful young woman in the rickshaw and asked earnestly:
"It must be quite difficult for you to communicate with me through this projection, so why don't we just communicate more directly?"
The beautiful young girl's face showed a bewildered and innocent expression:
"I'm thinking."
Cyril's lips twitched slightly, feeling as if rows of black lines and question marks were appearing above his head.
The room fell silent again.
A few breaths later, a series of cracking sounds suddenly came from all around, and fine, spiderweb-like cracks extended out from the dark mist again, quickly covering the entire mirror world.
The young woman in the cheongsam, gently waving a round fan, raised her delicate eyebrows and mumbled something:
"What a restless fellow..."
Cyril didn't listen carefully to what she said next. The moment those dense cracks appeared, he opened the "Gone" key to leave this mirror world.
In reality, the site where the abandoned wooden house once stood is now just a charred, burned area.
puff!
The charred fragments and ashes, still warm from the heat, were pushed aside, and Cyril emerged from them, covered in soot.
The group of black-robed figures who were rebuilding the altar paused, then all turned to look at him.
Cyril calmly looked back, his dark eyes suddenly turning completely white.
The next second, an extremely bright and dazzling light illuminated the surroundings, and all the "Weather God" followers who had their eyes open were temporarily blinded.
"what!"
"My eyes!"
Amid the chaos, Sirion flung out a piece of drawing paper and pulled out the "Peacekeeper" from it.
Without the slightest hesitation, he pulled the trigger directly towards the densest part of the crowd.
Bang! Bang! Bang...:
He stopped firing only after the magazine was emptied, and then a phantom book filled with pages turning appeared in his eyes.
"I came, I saw, I recorded."
As the incantation appeared, a thick black mist suddenly surged out from behind him, condensing into a pair of illusory bat wings.
With the black magic from the "vampire" boosting his speed, he suddenly darted forward, leaving a trail of fading afterimages behind him.
The "Peacekeeper" gun in his hand was filled with a large amount of pure and holy silver-white dawn light, making it look like a "Dawn Sword" with only the hilt remaining.
His figure swiftly moved among the cultists who hadn't been affected by the weakened "storm of light" formed by the barrage of bullets, his silver "sword hilt" slashing at their necks, backs of heads, and chests.
In less than half a minute, all the followers of the "weather god" collapsed.
Cyril was not surprised by this; the sudden burst of power earlier was clearly from the power shared by the "Weather God".
These believers are mostly ordinary people and cannot withstand such strong supernatural power for long.
After an outbreak like the one just now, they need to rest for at least a day or two, otherwise the flames they ignite will probably burn them up before they even reach the enemy.
鸣~
Suddenly, the wind around them intensified, and a burst of white and red flames, a mixture of gale and fire, descended from the sky.
The scorching heatwave pounded against his body, and Sirion's figure suddenly twisted, turning into a crudely cut paper doll.
A wave of scorching heat swept in, and the paper figure quickly turned to ash.
A dozen meters away in another direction, as soon as Sirion's figure appeared, several wind blades wrapped in blazing white flames materialized out of thin air and attacked him.
Cyril stood there expressionless, with pairs of transparent, dragonfly-wing-like membranes extending from behind him.
Then his body suddenly became transparent and ethereal, as if he had entered another dimension.
boom!
Flame-infused wind blades pierced his body, exploding into brilliant bursts of fire on the open ground behind him.
Looking back at the pits, each about two or three meters wide, Sirion raised an eyebrow slightly, then looked at the firelight where the wind and flames intertwined.
As the flames whipped by the gale rapidly contracted, they eventually solidified into tiny, white fireballs, each no larger than a basketball, which swirled around the figure in the gale.
Bathed in the firelight, the bishop, floating in mid-air, exuded an air of immense pressure amidst the fluttering of his long robes in the deep blue church.
In those azure eyes, an emotion called anger was surging intensely:
"Damn heretics!"
One after another, bright white fireballs, no bigger than basketballs, were propelled by the wind at incredible speeds toward Sirion, piercing right through his body before exploding.
Boom! Boom!
Under the blazing firelight, Cyril's already transparent and ethereal figure appeared even more ethereal, as if he might disappear at any moment.
When the firelight disappeared, the "wings" on his back flapped gently, and he floated into the air as if weightless, towering a head taller than the deep blue church bishop who was being lifted by the wind.
"You're the damned heretic who abandons the perfectly good 'Lord of Storms' to worship a 'Weather God' you've never even heard of!"
call out!call out!
Countless wind blades sliced across his body, but did not cause any real damage.
Cyril gave the other person a mocking smile, then continued:
"That 'Weather God' could kill me with just a lightning bolt or a fireball, so why does he always have to use you useless people to do it?"
"Is it because you're currently in a difficult situation and have lost control of yourself?"
"Can a god who can't even save himself really give you power or status?"
"Strictly speaking, he can't even be considered a god."
boom!
One after another, bursts of blazing white flames exploded around him, densely packed, like a frenzied outburst of anger.
Cyril floated quietly in mid-air, his expression somber.
In that brief moment, he vaguely sensed the will of the "God of Weather" from the bishop of the deep blue church across the way, felt his anger, and also felt a sense of familiarity.
...It's a bit like the feeling I get from that "city of disaster" permeating the polluted world in the mirror. He's hiding in the "mirror world."
It's also possible that they are trapped in a mirror world, and their continued bloody sacrifices are a way to save themselves.
As my thoughts drifted, wisps of dark, ethereal mist seeped from the soil of the forest below and from the charred tree trunks.
They rapidly intertwined into an expanding, slowly rotating vortex that encompassed both Cyril and the bishop of the Deep Blue Cathedral.
Then Cyril saw that the bishop's original dark blue robes had turned red as if they had been soaked in blood, flames were rising in his azure eyes, his exposed skin and hair were radiating a metallic sheen, and his aura had undergone a dramatic change.
His immediate impression of the other party became that they were violent and dangerous.
It was as if it was no longer a person, but a powerful, all-powerful, and invincible weapon.