The Amber Sword

“Praise killing, praise death, praise war, praise the bloody land. ”

“Thy name, which thou hast written in the name of blood, spreadeth in the depths of hell, and the north wind whistles with thy sword, and the sickness and old age with thy spear, and thou shalt not fail, nor die, nor die. And when We recite thy name, thou shalt return again unto this land. ”

“Great Friedrich, you are the Lord of all things, the end of all things! ”

The buzzing sounds in the square converged like the moans of a dying patient haunting everyone's ears, and a ray of blood flowed between the mud and the gap between the slabs, like a red snake, spreading and dyeing red under the feet of everyone.

High and low above the rooftops, the fire reflected the night, a column of smoke was rising under the night, and Mars floated along the rising hot air over the emperor, like a river of light dotted with stars.

Far outside the square, the bishop raised his head and opened his thick cloak with his hands covered in geriatric spots, watching the scene with piety. He said in a low, dull voice:

“Thirty years ago, when I was in Metz, I dreamed of all this today, and I saw with my own eyes the black flames coming out of the ground, turning this rotten empire into ashes. ”

Young worshippers looked at the Archbishop with admiration, and for those living in the darkness, the great clearance of 30 years ago was memorable on either side, with countless witches, wizards practising dark magic and those declared heathen being dragged out of their houses every day in any rural East Mets village, either by hanging them or by putting them on a fire rack.

It was the darkest period in the whole of East Mets, which, while severely attacking the forces of evil, also stagnated local production. After all, no one could prevent dissatisfied people from attacking dissidents in the name of the Temple, with the end result that the entire East Mets countryside was ten rooms and nine empty, until now it has not been able to regain its vitality.

Ironically, the relentless killing did not stop the spread of darkness, but rather provided the ground for the survival of pagan beliefs, a fact that, in the decades following the end of the temple, the temple's control over the East Mets countryside had become weaker.

Most of these young people were followers who had developed since then, and they had not seen that cruel age, but had a good understanding of the horrors of that era through the mouths of sects, and admiration was added to the hearts of those of the older generations who could survive that era.

But the flames of vengeance in the hearts of these young people are no less pronounced than those of an elderly man such as the bishop, as if the desire to destroy everything in their hearts could only be satisfied by turning this millennium emperor into ruins.

Everyone's eyes are full of fanaticism.

Below the square, the secret Christians in black robes walked in rows, holding a bright blade of snow in their hands. Every time they approached a row of citizens lying on their knees, they pressed his neck and stabbed the latter's heart with a knife.

The bitter pain of death awakens from delusion, turning the deceased into a struggle to see the murderer of his own, like a slaughtered animal, blood bubbles gushing out of their mouths, a little darkening in the eyes, and the Christian smoothly flattens the corpse that has lost its breath of life, leaving blood blending in the dirt and flowing in the square.

But most people didn't even have a chance to resist, twitching and falling to the ground, rows after rows, as if they were sheep massacred collectively, and the Christians moved quickly, and less than a moment later in the square, there were only rows of corpses intertwined with each other.

The air was filled with a rich, bloody smell, the blood flowing towards the center of the square like it had been summoned, the statue of the knight standing in the center of the square, with an engine sword, watching the scene indifferently.

The light of the surrounding torch cast a huge shadow on its face, looking like this past hero was under dusk.

But it seemed that the followers of the front row were blind to what was happening, and they chanted in piety and piety, that the blood had not crossed the knees of those in front of them, and that they still worshipped with their heads and fears. As if there were a voice in their hearts announcing to them that I am your Lord, and that I will give you everything - whether vengeance or eternity.

The bishop looked at the scene with satisfaction.

The rioting people are gathering in the inner city at the instigation of the shepherds, who light everything that can be seen. In a fanatical atmosphere, people gradually lose their mind and they carefully protect their property on a weekday basis, but there is only one thought left in their minds:

Rob, burn, destroy everything!

And the scene in front of us is just a picture of one of the corners of Rusta at the moment, where there are dozens of ceremonies going on in different places, big and small, within the Emperor's capital, where, with one third of the success, they can successfully summon the "gift" they've been preparing for.

It is a gift to this dying empire.

It was once so immortal that no one thought that the empire founded by Gilt, the king of flames of one of the four worlds, would one day come to an end, even if countless kingdoms and principalities had fallen and disappeared for centuries, but the four empires had always stood at the top of the peak of civilization, without even fading a bit.

But a chance to bring all the coincidences together, to give them a moment of control and destiny over this enormous thing.

He could not help but recall the experience in Metz decades ago, the proud gesture of the knights and nobles of the Temple, and the empire did not look at them at all, let them grow and wait until at some point brutally repressed them.

As if it were wheat in the ground, but it was not the time to harvest it.

When the nobles watched his colleagues go on the gallows, that gaze was no different than watching the wheat cut down, it was the same understatement, and it was a bit of an ornamental nature.

It was that look that deeply stabbed him.

The bishop finally looked in the direction of the square, and he saw the blood pool converging in the center of the square, sticky as a mirror, a redhead, a twisted monster with wings struggling in the pool, thick blood covering them, connected to the silk of the blood pool, as if it were an embryo conceived in the womb, ugly and disgusting.

He knows that the Son of the Evil God has come.

Everywhere in Warnde, the Black Firemen and the Shepherds are shadowed, and they worship the power of distortion - not chaos and demons, but evil gods. And on the question of whether evil gods are gods, scholars have argued for thousands of years, but these horrible and ugly beings are indeed a part of God - they were born out of divine blood, and no one knows who, or with what intent, made them, but these horribly distorted monsters have been cursed since the day they were born, as if they were cursed by all the malice and hatred in the world, insane and irrational, worshipping killing and ruthless death, powerful, strange, as if mere existence had disturbed the world.

Therefore, from the day the evil gods were born, they were deeply sealed by the people of God, and only a few of their sons were left on the earth and called the Messengers of God.

The most famous of these are the gods born of the blood of the Gaia god, the demon tree Fenridos, whose children, the golden demon tree, spread throughout the world with the intent of the shepherd, and the name of the shepherd.

The followers of the shepherds, the Black Firemen, worship the powerful powers of these strange creatures, but for a long time they are far from gaining them. The weak god makes it seem like the limit of human power, and no one has been so close to a true god since the Battle of the Saints.

Even the evil gods.

The scholars' argument seems to be over at this moment in the Krutz Emperor Rusta.

He pulled down the cape again, some nervously muttering to himself.

“Please forgive me, but I won't give you a chance. ”

There is nothing more pleasant than watching a formerly powerful and fearful enemy fall moaning in front of himself. He needs to see what the faces of those who can't live and dream of dying in the inner city will look like when death is near.

He turned around casually and said to the people around him, "Are the people we sent to the Cat and Beard Inn back? ”

Young believers kept asking each other questions and quickly received negative answers.

The answer made the bishop frown, as if at this time their power was so powerful, even the empire would kneel before him, the district a small thing came to make him difficult?

He was very dissatisfied with that feeling.

“What, you haven't even heard from me?” His tone slowly rises and contains intense dissatisfaction.

The Christians shook their heads again.

“The city is in a mess, maybe they're in trouble on their way back.” Reasonable explanations were given in the crowd.

The bishop thought about it and endorsed the explanation that there was no chance that the adult's plan would fail after he wanted to come to the dragon, and he carefully investigated the people in the hotel, knowing that the fiancée of the little aristocrat was simply incapable.

Of course, White Mist is not a factor in his mind that is not expected by ordinary people.

He decided to drop the question first and said: "The rituals in the city must be accelerated, and now the main rituals are almost complete, big and small dozens of rituals, can't those idiots finish even a third of the rituals within the time I set? ”

Young believers face each other, wondering why the Bishop, who seemed to speak well on weekdays, suddenly had such a big temper.

But these people are not really strawberries, and soon someone said, "Perhaps we can contact them? ”

The bishop thought, nodded, they did not communicate privately during the week because they were afraid of being spotted by the ubiquitous witch, but there was no such fear tonight, only that at this time His Majesty, the self-righteous Queen, could not help himself.

Young believers immediately took out a communication crystal, carefully connected it, and handed it over to the bishop respectfully.

“Whose crystal is this? ”

The bishop turned back and asked, the light of the torch cast the shadow of the hood on his face as if there was a dark ink stain hidden beneath each wrinkle.

“Looks like Dennis's. ”

“That was the ceremony on Ninth Avenue. ”

The bishop held the crystal in his hand and asked softly: "Is it Dennis? Do you hear me? ”

Crystal silenced for a moment.

Then it lit up slightly, and a voice came from above.

“Yes, but I'm not Dennis. ”

The bishop was almost stunned for a moment.

Everyone on the scene was silent for a moment.

Then the former said with some impatience, "I don't care who you are, you let Dennis talk to me right away. ”

“It's a bit difficult, I'm afraid.” The sound of the crystal is somewhat difficult to answer.

“What's so hard about it, where is he? ”

The crystal came over for a while, and then I said, "Well, I didn't know the body at my feet was the one you were talking about, so why don't I send them over and you guys can identify them? ”

The bishop held the communication crystal in his hand and the needle was almost smelly.

“You… who are you? ”

“Oh, by the way, forget to introduce yourself," the voice on the crystal replied, "My name is Brando, and whether you know me or not, you better wash your necks and wait for me to kill you. ”

Tap.

Crystal fell to the ground.

In the eyes of all, the bishop felt only a raging rage gathering rapidly in his chest and the bear burning. That feeling was as if he had just gained incomparable power. If the Empire did not dare to wipe its rays, he would have to bow down in front of him, but a bunch of clowns had to jump out to test the knife.

He didn't give a shit about each other's names, but subconsciously thought that it was just a group of people who wanted to show themselves in front of Her Majesty's Majesty and have lost heart for the noble children of the Empire.

He couldn't help but laugh back: “These people really want to be famous and go crazy, so I washed my neck and saw how they killed me. ”

But unfortunately, this bunch of heartbroken lunatics seemed to take it as a joke and didn't really intend to kill him.

But what they did next made the Bishop feel worse than he had been killed.

In less than a minute, the communication crystals on the ground lit up continuously, and every time they lit up, there was a strange voice at home.

Then tell them: "Your Excellency, your men have unfortunately died in my hands, but I assure you that there will definitely be another time. ”

The bishop's complexion ranged from angry red to angry blue iron, but a few times later, the faces of the people present began to show some signs of turning from black to white.

Because they discovered that in less than half an hour, more than seven ceremonial sites had been attacked, and from the crystal response, there was nothing left alive.

It was not until this moment that the bishop reacted that the other side was in no way a young man who had lost his mind.

This is definitely the retaliation of the organization after the reaction of one of its forces. Unfortunately, this retaliation was so fast and heavy that he almost shivered, he couldn't help but ask a little trembling:

“How many people have we lost? ”

In fact, he was concerned about how many more ceremonial venues were still in operation, and at that moment he almost thought the organization's careful planning would fail on his own.

……