Orc Tyrant

Everyone immediately jumped out of the car, Silas threw away the pistol that had no bullets in his hand, then stopped, turned around and pulled out his rifle and bullet belt from the dead rebel's hands. The guy was basically twisted. The front of the car is integrated, and there is not much left below the waist.

The air was filled with the stench of overheated metal and burnt bone marrow.

"Kill them!!"

The first wave of rebels rushed in through the big hole opened by the car, and Nutans killed two people and swept light holes in the wall.

They began to gradually retreat along the messy ground in the warehouse, arguing fiercely with the rebels who had penetrated through the large holes in the walls.

The bullets flew back and forth, Silas hit a shot, but he was not sure whether he killed the opponent, the opponent's sheer number advantage was very detrimental to them.

He had been waiting for the Flesh Messenger to knock down a wall and rush into the warehouse to hunt them down. He could already hear the rumbling roar.

"We have to find a way!"

"Maybe from..."

Suddenly, there was an ear-splitting explosion. In an instant, a bright light passed through every gap, every bullet hole and every window penetrated into the warehouse.

The whole building trembled, and ultra-high temperature mechanical debris and debris penetrated the walls and flew around.

Nutans and Silas got up, and the rebels who followed them into the warehouse also stood up. They tried to find these surviving resisters again, but they were confused.

What happened to the explosion just now?

Before they turned around, the fiery plasma beam cut through the darkness, cutting them into pieces, and those twinkling beams pierced their bodies, causing their helmets to burst like a balloon.

The survivors hid in the bunker and raised their weapons.

More than twenty figures wearing enclosed black metal carapace poured into the warehouse. They were armed with steaming plasma weapons and ruthlessly executed any rebels that were not killed on the spot. They had standards similar to the Kaimon Church, Nutan. Si recognized this standard, an ancient mysterious organization.

"Citizen Temple!?"

"The secret guard of the Purple Palace and the Scarab Guard of the Three Witches."

One of them said in a cold tone.

"Show up, hurry up, time is our enemy."

Nutans stood up first, and the others followed him to their feet. They all raised their hands to indicate that they were not hostile.

"Nutans, Royal Secret Guard."

The commander of the hunting squad stepped up to him and raised his mechanical mask and six visual sensors. He was a tall veteran with interlaced scars on his firm face.

"MacArthur, Kill Squad One."

He answered briefly, hesitated when speaking, as if he was not used to introducing himself.

"We just arrived in this city, are you alone?"

"Yes. We thank you for your salvation."

"If we stay here too long, everything is meaningless, Secret Guard."

MacArthur's words made Nutans a little uneasy, as if the other party was suggesting something.

"The firepower we have can counter a small force, plus some armor, but the reserve energy is very limited, and we cannot fight against a large group of enemies."

"Can you take us out of here?"

Nutans asked carefully.

"Of course, what we are going to and what you are going to should be the same place."

At this moment, Nutans understood the implication contained in the other party's language that the Purple Palace was not safe, and it was even the most dangerous place now.

"We hope to coordinate the resistance."

Nutans nodded, and took the weapon MacArthur handed over. A black pistol, not a rotary pistol, but a weird black pistol using a magazine, seemed very advanced.

Silas noticed the great sword in Samuel's hand.

"That's cumbersome."

He said so, shaking the fresh weapon he had just obtained.

"There is no need to bring it."

"necessary."

Samuel shook his head, then said nothing.

17 10th 6:55:46

"what!"

Jamila slammed into the bulkhead and collapsed in a slippery sound, smearing blood under her body.

After taking a few breaths, she lowered her head and glanced at her abdomen.

The wound was very serious and contained a certain toxin, which defeated the clotting potion in the temple. She could feel her body fighting a high fever.

He could feel his will fighting against fear.

That is not the fear of failure, not even the fear of death or pain.

It was heartbreaking, uneasy about the unknown.

It is the human beings who overcome it to get out of the cave and set sail from their homeland. It is the human beings who have conquered it to face all kinds of beasts and the evils hidden in the ancient night.

She thought that she was already more knowledgeable than most people, and there shouldn’t be anything unexpected. All possible horrors must be explored. She must grasp every new possibility, and she must be immune. .

It's like the slogan chanted during training-unwavering and fearless.

"Damn it!"

Sweat dripped from her forehead and blood dripped across her chin. She struggled to get up, but couldn't do it.

This is a lesson, she thought.

This thing, and that thing.

So much blood.

There was soreness in her throat, tears in her eyes, and sharp pain in the wound left by that thing in her abdomen and ribs.

Yamila nearly fainted just now, and the ferocious toxin made her lose consciousness for a short time and fell into a cloud of scarlet mist.

She was panting, and every expansion of her lungs ignited flames in her nerves. She worked hard for a while and finally managed to stand up and look into the distance.

The air was filled with smoke and dust, and under the breeze, it surged along the ground like a river.

She saw a dead soldier about five meters away, whose head was twisted into a strange angle.

In the distance, the three soldiers sat slumped with their backs against the fallen wreckage, like a few sailors returning from drinking all night, all of them were scarlet, except for their dull eyes.

Farther away was a **** chest cavity with half of his arm attached.

Beside there was another soldier, and Jamila recognized him, the squad leader of the fifth squad, but now torn apart like a broken porcelain doll.

After that, she saw the thing again.

For that thing, for the thing that killed many people, Jamila wasn't sure that it was a thing.

It has a rough human shape, more than twice that of a normal human. Its limb ratio is close to that of a scorpion. However, its true outline is difficult to determine. Reality seems to be distorted around it. The air is smelly and pungent. The mist surges, and it flows like a dark nightmare from a deep crypt.

It is like a giant scorpion, crawling with thick metal limbs like a tree trunk. Its body is covered with sutured incisions and entangled pipelines, and the flesh and blood under it are changing with iridescent light.

It has no eyes, and there is almost nothing else on its head but a huge mouth. Its face is like a piece of shriveled skin tightly on the distorted human skull, and its empty eye sockets are like craters.

Its two jaws were packed with knife-like fangs and giant yellowing teeth, and the gums without lips covered with cyan venom, like sticky syrup.

It seemed to be sniffing something, it smelled of acid and saltpeter.

The third is 20 o'clock