The pace of the undead army has never slowed down, and they will never feel fatigue again after losing their lives. At the same time, they will always be accompanied by sleepless pain and jealousy and hatred for all life that is still alive.

The undead would never pay much attention to those elven warriors who had turned into corpses. Whether they were vampires or ghosts, they all drifted past those battle lines silently and continued to advance along the direction of the river in Erutalon. Although going straight to the Holy Mountain of Heather can save more distance, the undead don't seem to care about wasting that little time. For them, time is as unquestionable as mercy and conscience.

However, Vincent believed that flying over the Erutalon River was a good choice in order to avoid the layers of resistance from the elven archers in the forest. Even if you have enough cover, you won't fall into an ambush in the woods because your line of sight is blocked.

Due to the emergence of the undead banshees, many areas have failed. The fragile bodies of the elves are vulnerable to this powerful curse. The early warning horn sounded, and the archers on the front line immediately retreated. They didn't expect to be able to block the undead attacks on the front line.

In the Elf Forest, many tall wooden towers have been built, which are made of local materials and branches of willow, poplar, beech or other tall trees. When the wizard Vincent asked the elves to put down their flutes and pick up their axes, no one objected.

"This is not just cutting down our trees, but cutting down our lives!" the elves said, "This is simply a crime."

The meaning of the word crime in Elvish is very terrible. It almost means "unforgivable fault". The mage Vincent had already thought of this. He calmly said to the elves who were on the verge of anger:

"All we need are some strong branches, not a complete cutting of the trees," he said. "I share your opinion on that."

The elves were finally convinced by him (among them, the Elf Queen's trust and support for Vincent played an important role). After all, the threat of the undead has not dissipated. Compared with the land being forever polluted by the black power of death, the loss of incomplete trees that can be restored to its original state in a few years is still an acceptable loss. However, the construction process of these towers is very slow, and almost no elves will volunteer to participate in such "work".

It wasn't until the Archdruid said something that the work accelerated: "Since these trees have contributed their bodies to our holy soil, do we have to look at those trees that have been blocking the wind and rain in the past, present and future? Are the branches and leaves rotting on the ground? Are you going to let down the hard work of these trees and refuse to even allow them to build a guard tower for us?"

Therefore, in the Elf Forest, these towers were like solid nails, piercing the path of the undead army. After hearing the sound of the horn, the elven archers immediately moved towards the tower closest to their defensive position. There, they will receive the best care.

Because the priests of the elves and the moon goddess are all distributed in these "small fortresses". They are recharging their energy, and have already prepared healing potions in their hands, as well as a large amount of holy water and magical scrolls specifically designed to deal with the undead.

As long as the Elven God has not abandoned his followers, then everything is under Vincent's consideration - at least in the plan before it goes out of control. So when the undead rush into these towers, hymns will ring in the sky above the elven forest.

The priests loudly chanted the name of the Moon God in praise of life and kindness. At that moment, their bodies were emitting silver light, like flowing mercury waterfalls swaying to the land below the tower, filling the forest like mist. The bodies of the undead seemed to have been poured with strong corrosive acid, and they were burned before they could react.

"This is how a battle should be!" The elven archers regained their fighting spirit. They took out their arrows and shot the undead monsters in trouble mercilessly, knocking their bodies down into the river of Erutalon. middle.

Waves of white smoke rise from the river, which is the last mark left by ghosts and vampires on this world. The powerful blessing power completely destroyed these things from the world of the dead. No one knows where these souls who have lost their lives will drift to, but what is certain is that they will never return to the world of the dead again. Compared to re-experience that gray and hopeless space, complete destruction may be a better choice.

"Praise the Moonlight God!" The elves will show no mercy to these invaders. Many of the comrades on the front line have not returned, and those elves who have not encountered the banshee do not know how they died. But obviously, those elf warriors have sacrificed their precious lives. The elves have almost unlimited time to experience life, and each individual is a classic that records history. Therefore, the loss of any soul is erasing the past of the entire elven clan.

Vampires have no resistance at all to the silver light road paved by such priests. Once injured, they can only choose to flee backwards as fast as possible, hiding in dark corners and slowly repairing their bodies. Since vampires have self-healing abilities that ghosts do not have, the attacks of elves also take more care of those who are trying to escape.

The ghosts instinctively felt the powerful holy power in front of them, and slowly slowed down their forward speed. Although their master's order to "keep moving forward" could never be violated, slowing down was within their capabilities. When the first wave of undead monsters hit the defensive wall, it was shattered like waves hitting a rock, leaving nothing but a few drops of water vapor.

There wasn't even a sound left. The entire forest became very silent, and the sound of bows and arrows piercing the air disappeared together with the loud music of hymns. The undead suddenly disappeared as if they had never appeared before.

There was no trace of anything moving among the trees, only the white mist was still spreading slowly. Although there was a slight breeze blowing by, not a single leaf could make the "squeaking" sound of the past, and everything was frozen.

Only the fluttering arrow feathers on the tree trunks record what happened here not long ago.

"What's going on?" said an elf bow and arrow. His voice was low and soft, with a hint of trembling hoarseness mixed in it . He stood up straight in surprise, and was also surprised by the sound of his voice.

Uneasiness gradually spreads, and unknown attacks must be yet to come. Those companions who did not return have revealed the cruelty of the battle - they were all sacrificed as a team, and no individual could escape. That only shows that the enemy must be more powerful than ghosts and vampires.

The sound of sobbing gradually floated out from the distance in the woods. The cries full of resentment gradually disintegrated the fighting spirit of the elves, making them constantly think about the dark ending: when they die, how will their relatives use it? He mourns himself with sad songs. Will that kind of emotion be the last relic he leaves to this world?

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

'Run away quickly, before it's too late...' Some elves began to have this idea in their hearts. It was like a black plague emerging from the depths of the soil, breeding and destroying the trees in their souls.

"Are we going to let the enemy's songs ring through the elven forest forever and echo in our homes?" I don't know which elf shouted loudly with all his strength: "Are we elves no longer singing!"

No more words or explanations were needed, and the elves didn't care where the warrior who shouted came from. The elf next to him woke up from his dream, opened his dry lips, and began to sing, his voice rising from low to high. The elves unanimously chose a piece of music praising the Moon Goddess, perhaps because the priest of the Moon God was standing beside them. Starting from the first high tower, other strongholds around it began to follow suit. The song gradually spread in the forest, spreading out like a beacon of hope, completely covering up the cries of the banshees.

Every elf who hears this song knows clearly: Even in this isolated tower, he is not alone. There are his compatriots and relatives fighting with him beside him, not far away. Their fate and bloodline are forever connected with themselves. As a result, even the youngest warrior no longer has fear; even the lowest priest will not tremble when singing because of unfamiliarity. Only this piece of music can replace all hymns, because it is sung with heart.

The elf forest seemed to come to life all of a sudden. The chirping of birds, the chatter of trees and the sound of water flow began again, joining the chorus of elves. All natural elves use their voices to clearly express this idea: Even if their tree of life withers, the singing will never stop, and the battle will never stop.

The sound spread very far, as if there was a magical power pushing them into the sky, reaching the sky. Vincent and Kubert in the Star Swamp also heard this clearly.

They were now hiding behind the trees at the edge of the wetland, lowering their bodies as low as possible. Although Kubert, who was soaking in the puddle, complained that his holy robe was stained with the black mud here, he saw the same stain on Vincent's mage robe next to him, so he quietly tolerated the matter. Come down.

"What on earth are we waiting for here?" The priest heard the voices of the elves and knew that a war had begun over there. He couldn't help but feel a little excited: "It turns out that the war songs of the elves are also so heroic. It is the same as our Holy Greafury 's Paladin Charge. , possessing surging vitality!”

"That's a hymn in praise of the moon god, not a war song." Vincent listened for a while and said, "I think you should learn the Elvish language. This will help you understand their culture."

"I am studying hard." Kubert scratched his head and said, "After leaving Holy Greafury this time , I feel that there are too many things to learn, but my life seems very limited. Now, I admire you mages very much This kind of journey of traveling around for adventure and learning. Returning to Holy Greafury , I will suggest that the Lord Bishop increase the number of times that priest apprentices go out to study."

"Then spread the teachings of Holy Greafury more widely?" Vincent said: "Count on the power of those priest apprentices? I think they even have a problem with self-protection. The outside world in the wild mountains and forests is not as comfortable as the priest temple, the ranger They all have a better chance of survival than priests. Before reaching the level of a formal priest, few apprentices of Greafury can survive. Especially when they have no mana and are bound by such harsh disciplines."

"When mages still walked the world, many people were full of hostility towards them. I think you know this better than me. The priests of Greafury do not have this burden. And our great god of light, Greafury , All His people are being watched and watched. Miracles always happen. I think there is no reason to fear for their safety."

　　Vincent glanced at Kubert and said nothing more. He had no hope of convincing the priest before him. In fact, he didn't expect to convince anyone who talked about miracles all day long.

"Will the enemy really appear here?" After a brief silence, Kubot said.

"That's natural." Vincent had a consistent smile on his lips: "It will be very exciting here."

"Exciting?" Kubert always felt that Vincent's smile had many meanings, too many meanings that he could not figure out, which made him very uncomfortable. "I hope you've planned what's going to happen here, I don't want to..."

"You don't want to lose your life without any doubt, do you?" Vincent said bluntly. At this time, Kubert always felt that the smile on his face was very hateful.

"No!" said the priest of Greafury : "If I lose the ability to fight before sending my enemies to the hell they should go to, that would be the greatest shame in my life."

"Aren't you afraid of death?" Vincent unexpectedly put away his smile and asked him seriously.

"Death? It just allows me to return to the great God of Light, so that my soul can listen to his teachings at close range. What's so scary about that?" Kubert said: "The only thing I worry about is waste. The ability given to me by the God of Light Greafury , if I cannot show its brilliance in this life, that would be the most terrifying thing."

Vincent glanced at the priest, and then returned his gaze to the other end of the Fragmented Star Swamp . Maybe he had expected Kubert's answer, maybe he wanted to get to know the middle-aged man in front of him again. However, the Master did not become silent. He said: "Religious fanatics often answer like this."

"Then what do you think?" Kubert said: "I'm not trying to convince you to start believing in the God of Light. I'm just curious about what are you mages thinking in your minds? Especially when you started a war against God thousands of years ago. that moment.”

"This question is difficult to answer. Maybe the future is the only thing I care about." Vincent's voice was very low: "However, if you ask about the battle between mages and gods, aren't you worried that the Greafury Temple will do something to you ? Judgment? I still remember that all topics related to that line of war are taboo for you."

"I don't think the God of Light has any topics that need to be hidden or taboo. He is always upright." Kubert said: "I have always been very firm about this."

"Based on such remarks, you can be considered a maverick among the priests of Greafury, right?" Vincent said: "Even when you came to the Elf Kingdom, I didn't see any apprentices or followers around you."

"In this regard, there is actually no difference between you and me. We are both individual souls, from different ethnic groups." Kubert said: "Even though we have huge differences in ideas, we are fighting side by side now. One From a mage who once killed gods, and from a priest who supported gods, don’t you think there is a huge symbolic meaning in this?”

"The so-called meaning is just an illusion that people use to deceive themselves and others, Mr. Pastor." Vincent said: "To put it bluntly, I don't actually need you here."

"But you still can't deny the fact that I have a big positive effect here." Kubot said: "If I still have some understanding of the mage, then I have long heard of your extreme respect for facts. . Could it be that the truth is the God you believe in? That is where your souls want to go?"

Vincent sighed. He now hoped that those undead creatures would appear soon. Perhaps only in the fierce battle could Priest Kubert shut his mouth. However, his words did touch upon something Vincent had never thought of.

"Why am I standing here?" He asked himself in his mind: "What is the difference between my soul and other people's souls? When I become a pure ghost, how can I be distinguished from other ghost individuals? ?”

His hand began to tremble involuntarily again, and the mighty staff also whimpered softly, as if there was power urging it. Kubert looked at Vincent strangely, wondering what was wrong with the mage in front of him. He gently patted the young man's shoulder and said, "Wake up, Mr. Mage. Your mind seems to be no longer in your body."

Vincent seemed to wake up from a deep sleep surrounded by nightmares . He took a long breath and focused his eyes on the priest's face.

"I'm fine," Vincent said. "This has happened before. I guess I was too excited ."

"No, I don't think so." Kubert said: "I have seen many examples of former pastors who lost their faith and did not know the meaning of their existence. Like you, their souls tried their best to I want to escape the control of that body and fly to an unknown distance."

"Then do you have any suggestions?" Vincent asked curiously: "How do you treat them?"

"Treatment?" Kubot said: "I don't call it treatment, I just help them find their faith again. The God of Light will never reject those souls who want to seek comfort." After that, he took out something from his chest. He held the silver medal inlaid with gems tightly in his hand, and then patted Vincent on the shoulder with a kind look.

"No, thank you." Vincent's smile returned to his face: "I still don't believe in those beings with divine power."