I became the master of the alien world

Chapter 226 Strange Friends

There is no doubt that this is a New Orlando man, but before going through the transformation, he must have come from a different race from Mordred, at least he is definitely not an Essite with pure blood.

The best proof of the curse is the man's abnormal skin - gray spots all over his body.

A few uninfected areas appear beige instead of the usual pale complexion.

Facing this possible enemy, Mordred immediately tensed up his nerves.

But when I thought about it carefully, I realized that the man in front of me did not show any primitive wildness, nor did he look decadent and depressed. He was completely different from the guys I met before.

Mordred also noticed the most obvious difference: the strange man's frame was tall and strong, with a pair of broad palms, and a pair of sharp eyes embedded in a pale face.

And although the other party's tone was gentle, he was also looking at Mordred carefully with a cautious attitude.

After a stalemate for about a minute, Mordred finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank God, no matter who you are, I'm so happy to meet you.

At first I almost thought that the people here were either in a dying state or completely crazy."

"Haha, we are not just dying." The man replied with a contemptuous snort.

"Why do you say that?" Mordred's eyes remained on the other person's hair.

"Because we are already dead."

Mordred did not continue to speak, he was thinking about how to get close to the big man in front of him.

The weird word "Oakley" felt inexplicably familiar to him, just like a man's hair that makes people laugh or cry.

"You must not be from Esit, right?"

The man shook his head. "My name is Edward, and I come from the Tulip Principality. I have just arrived in New Orlando, a place of depravity and madness - more precisely, a hell where evil thrives. By the way, it's also a pleasure to meet you."

"

"Tulip Principality?" Mordred expressed some doubts. "According to the rumors of God's blessing, the curse should only affect the people of Esit." Mordred stood up as he spoke, shaking off the decay from his body.

Sawdust, but couldn't help but frown because of the stinging pain in his toes.

Now he was covered in mud and exuded the stomach-churning stench of New Orlando.

"Tulip is a country with many races. You can find Oakleys, Essites, Moebiuses, and Taios. And I..."

"Damn it!" Mordred lowered his head and cursed, interrupting the man.

Edward raised his eyebrows: "What's wrong, Oakley? Did you get stabbed in a painful place?"

However, I think if I stay here for a long time, there is no place that won’t hurt..."

"My toes!" Mordred said as he limped across the smooth bluestone road.

"It's a weird thing. I just got kicked when I fell, but the pain didn't subside at all."

Edward shook his head sadly and said: "Welcome to New Orlando, Oakley. Now you are a dead man, and of course your body can no longer recover on its own as it did before."

"What?!" Mordred fell down at Edward's feet, and the sharp pain in his toes continued to reach his tense nerves.

"Every pain, Oakley," Edward whispered. "Every cut, every bump, every bruise, every pain will be with you forever, until you go crazy because it's unbearable.

…

Like I said, welcome to hell."

"How can you bear all this?" Mordred asked, massaging his toes, but it did not relieve the pain at all.

This was originally just an insignificant little collision, but now he had to work hard to restrain himself from crying.

"This is an unsolvable problem. Unless you are careful enough to avoid any unnecessary harm, you will end up like those bastards you met in the square."

"Those in the square... that's right!" Mordred seemed to remember something, struggled to stand up, turned around and staggered toward the square.

Sure enough, the young beggar was still lying at the entrance of the alley.

He's alive, well... in a sense.

The boy's empty eyes were looking at nowhere, and his lips kept trembling, but he couldn't make any sound.

The boy's neck had been completely split, with a huge wound on the side. His spine and throat were all exposed to the air, but the poor guy was still struggling to continue breathing.

Thinking back to the first time he saw this beggar, although the boy was thin, he was still breathing heavily and had a strong desire to survive.

This is why this unlucky guy dared to compete with those lunatics for a small piece of food.

Suddenly, Mordred felt that the pain in his toes was lessened.

"I really can't stand it anymore..." Mordred turned away, his stomach churning for a while. He stretched out his hand to hold on to the wall so that he could stand steady, and he bent his head and tried not to vomit.

Edward knelt down next to the beggar. "This guy looks hopeless." There was a calm tone in his words.

"What...?" Mordred was about to speak, but quickly covered his mouth to prevent his stomach from embarrassing him.

He plopped down into a puddle of mud, and after taking a few deep breaths, he continued: "How long can he live like this?"

"You don't understand anything, Oakley." Edward's accented tone sounded particularly sad.

"He's not really alive at all, and neither are we. That's why we're stuck here forever. This boy will be like this forever, and no one can change that fact."

"What do you mean by continuing like this forever?" Mordred felt a sense of fear in his heart.

"Once you are infected with God's blessing, you will not really die unless your brain is crushed." Edward told it in a calm tone, obviously he had already accepted this ending.

"Is there nothing we can do for him?"

Edward shrugged. "Maybe we could try burning him, assuming we need a fire."

"The bodies of New Orlandoans seem to burn more easily than the average person, and people outside think this way of death is best for us."

"Then..." Mordred started, but still couldn't look directly at the poor guy. "If we really do this, what will happen to him? Will his soul disappear as a result?"

Upon hearing this, Edward showed a complicated expression on his face, clearly disdainful, but also showing a hint of sadness.

"It's a pity, Oakley, that he has no soul at all."

(End of chapter)