Orc Tyrant

Rubitel walked past Silas and cast his eyes on the witch.

Although the woman was already blind, she flinched in horror when she felt his gaze pass over her body.

In the end, she leaned her back against a wall and tried to escape from him, but he held her arm with the force that seemed to crush her and dragged her to the fire.

"She has great power, I can taste it."

Silas licked his tongue, and the pink tentacles on his left arm were about to move.

"That's why we must choose her."

Rubitel replied simply:

"The representative significance of this is as important as her own strength. If the sacrificer does not cherish his sacrifice, then it cannot be called a sacrifice."

"No, please."

The witch realized the meaning of the other party's words, and she cried, trying to break free of his control.

Silas stepped forward, gently supported the witch's chin, stopped her struggle and forced her to raise her head, letting her blindly stare into her face.

"Don't be afraid, ma'am."

The witch whimpered, her panicked lips making an unrecognizable voice.

She tried to shake her head, but Silas held her tightly and said:

"All of this is meaningless. If you try to resist, the pain of your death will exceed your imagination. You have to embrace Him and enjoy Him."

Rubitel looked at Silas and nodded slowly, as if reluctantly making a difficult decision.

"So, enjoy it."

Silas said joyfully, and withdrew his hand.

Then the tentacles of his left hand flew out like a poisonous snake and pierced straight into her chest. Then the thorns tore through her heart and lungs and pierced her back in a splash of blood.

In this process, the witch did not die immediately. She screamed first, then moaned, then screamed, and then bursts of demented giggles.

It seemed that pain and joy were surging in her body at the same time.

Until three minutes later, with a long cry, she collapsed like a frustrated ball.

Rubitel nodded to the fire, Silas hung the corpse over the fire pit, letting various body fluids drip down the toes into the flames.

The blood hissed in the flames, and the intense emotion of the witch's death was turbulent and hot in the room.

That emotion is so vivid and powerful, full of panic, pain, and fear.

Rubitel knelt on one knee and drew on the ground exactly the same figure as in the book: an eight-pointed star surrounded by three rings, a formal skull, and ancient wedge-shaped runes.

"You better be careful, they are not yet allies."

Silas said, lowering his arms and letting the witch's body slide down from his tentacles.

Rubitel shrugged and began to chant the passage from the book, his gruff, dark voice begging the gods to send their envoys to establish contact between the two distant parties.

It is reasonable to say that practical radio may be more convenient, but considering that radio may be monitored and located, these cult organizations are still more inclined to use ancient witchcraft to communicate.

With only a whirr, the flame rose and then fell again.

Although the flames were still bright, the whole room became gloomy, Silas felt the temperature start to drop, and a biting cold wind was blowing from an unknown corner.

This supernatural breeze carries the ruins of the lost empire and the dust of lost years, as well as the eternity accumulated in countless years.

"Should this happen?"

Rubitaire smiled and nodded without saying a word.

The air became icy, and the invisible whispers panicked in unspeakable fear, because they realized that some ancient and terrifying existence was coming.

Shadows gather in the corners of the room, although there is no additional light source to cast them.

Then, a sharp and venomous laughter echoed in the room.

The amorphous twisting shadow kept turning his body in the hiss, trying to locate the source of the sound, trying to find a focal point in the dark.

At the same time, the flags above their heads began to hang frost.

The shadows in the room started to whisper, and a mixed voice came from everywhere, without any source, but Silas stood still.

An arrogant voice came out.

"Are you the one called the masked prince by your **** and prostitutes?"

Silas glanced at Rubitel, who nodded.

"I am, who am I talking to?"

"I'm Thira."

The voice said with a chuckle.

"The Lord of Blood."

"Or I should call you, the Patriarch of the Blood Sect."

"It's not impossible, but we never knew your name before, Masked Prince."

The unpredictable whispers of the Patriarch of the Blood, Silana, fluttered in the room.

"It is said that you were once the most vicious running dog under Prince Shadow, is it true?"

"maybe."

Silas replied indifferently, apparently the strangeness of this invisible conversation partner made him unmoved.

"Speaking of business, my chief priest Rubitel assured me that you can give me the strength to win victory."

"victory."

The man seemed to be weighing the term.

"A word that is almost meaningless in the vast ocean, but yes, we have great power to give you. If you and your **** swear allegiance to the blood god, there is no ambition for you. Reachable."

"I like you guys who are serious jokes."

Silas snorted.

"Your knowledge of the dark gods disappoints me, otherwise you wouldn't say such a thing."

"Ms. Huanyu must not be compared with the great blood god."

"Then you can come and try. I will open the door to welcome you and show you everything you don't know..."

"We didn't spend a lot of time to argue. I admit that your power is rising very fast, but you still need us, whether it's facing the Kaimon Church, Orke, or... those alien visitors."

"Then show me something practical."

"power."

Sila hissed, his voice coiling around Silas like a poisonous snake.

"We have gathered most of the power in this area. We can control it at will in the political and military circles. The Blood God is about to send its most powerful fighters to this place. The ceremony is about to be completed."

"ceremony?"

Silas nodded thoughtfully, but soon put on a smiley face again.

"You are just a waste of time saying these things. I have no interest, especially your ceremony, so if you have something to say directly, otherwise we will be over."

"Dia brother."

Sila replied, and Rubitaire sensed a trace of discomfort and anger in the words for a moment.

Obviously, that existence was not used to facing a person's provocation, even a powerful person like Silas.