Orc Tyrant

Alan followed the flow of people through the underground bunker. People walked past him, bumped into him, and pushed him away when they were on their way.

But no one looked at him, at most, glanced at him, thinking about who this guy is who hasn't bathed in a long time, has a beard and is blocking their way.

He doesn't mind, in fact he enjoys it very much—just walking, don't need to go wherever he wants, let his heart flutter at will.

Sometimes he even felt it was like walking through chaotic streets when he was young, listening to the cries of vendors and bargaining quarrels.

He smiled.

But when an officer wearing a sky blue field hat saw him, he must think that Alan was laughing at himself, because Alan frowned when he saw him, so he was about to speak.

Alan saluted, shook her head respectfully, and continued to move forward.

He doesn't know where he is going, but it doesn't matter. Now this is the best situation he can crave.

Everyone was trapped in the underground fortifications of Mount Mihir, and the radio broadcasted the news of the victory of XX and the "good news" that reinforcements were about to arrive soon.

But no one believes it anymore.

The food ration has changed from a pound of bread to a slap-wide moldy flour dough. Although drinking water is sufficient, due to lack of fuel, diarrhea caused by drinking a lot of raw water has become an even more deadly enemy.

Let everyone stick to it until now, only because they are facing Ouke.

Fight, or die.

There is no third way, but Alan knew that morale had already collapsed. Everyone just wanted to continue fighting by instinct like walking corpses, and hope was already shattered.

"Tirmat Alan."

In the first time, he didn't hear this sentence very clearly, and didn't bother to look back.

Tirmat Alan is now just an unknown person—just a machine gunner, an ordinary man who has devoted himself to the battle of Witlier.

The world with the special meaning of the name has disappeared. This call must have been misheard. It was a somewhat similar syllable separated from dozens of voices and hurried footsteps.

"You are Tirmat Alan."

This time the voice came from behind him, and he felt a hand on his shoulder.

At this moment, he can reach for the dagger he still carries.

"No, no, my friend,"

The voice said, this time it was in his ear, it was a soft voice, with a grunt, it was the southern accent of Gramatia.

At the same time he felt the tip of a sword against the skin above his right kidney.

"I don't want to hurt you, apostate, but you must come with me."

Alan felt a crack opened deep in his mind.

Apostate.

No one has called him that since the night the bombing started.

"who are you?"

Alan asked in a low voice. Around him, soldiers, miners and militiamen hurried past without noticing or caring about it.

"Your friend's servant, he wants to see you again."

Alan felt the pressure of Jianfeng moved to the bottom of his left arm, and at the same time the hand holding his shoulder was released, and a person walked behind him, close to his left side.

The man put a hand on his shoulder, as if they were old friends, and no one else could see the sword.

When Alan looked at the man, he unconsciously showed a shocked expression.

The man was wearing a dark uniform with black cross decorations and a silver rank stick.

Under the pointed hat, a broad, shaved face was smiling at him.

"I'm sorry to use the sword against you, but I serve our mutual friends, and I can't let you refuse this invitation."

The accent of the man suddenly changed: simply powerful, with no sign of southern accent.

Alan could smell a faint smell of wine and a strong smell of smoke from his breath, as if he had just stepped off the officer's card table.

His mind is running at high speed, fatigue and shock are mixed and become blurred.

During the months in the army, what I saw on the battlefield, killed, and tried to forget...all this fell with him.

In his memory, he saw a huge shadow when night fell on Irvine City for the last time (readers who don’t remember can look back at the previous volume), standing with him on the balcony, standing on his Beside.

The figure told him a lot, but he didn't remember it clearly.

"I understand-"

Alan recalled what he said at the last moment, and turned around to face the huge beast.

"What do you want me to do?"

The memory faded, but the ugly face still lingered when he looked at the man in the black officer's uniform.

"Green friend."

Alan whispered, seemingly scrupulous.

The man who looked like an officer nodded with a smile.

"follow me."

For some reason, he just kept up with the other party. After walking for ten minutes and detouring a lot of roads that he is not familiar with, he came there...

The room is small, which is equivalent to a box hidden behind a small door, located at the end of a quiet corridor, as if it has been forgotten.

A light bulb was tied with a wire on the ceiling, spilling dim light, and on the floor were three crates with a little worn-out edges and a thick layer of dust on them.

The room was also full of dust—dust and dirty air.

Alan glanced at the room and turned to face the man in the black officer's uniform.

"Wait here."

The man said, reaching out and closing the monotonous metal door.

Alan took a deep breath and pressed his fingers to his eyes.

His hands trembled on his eyelids, and he tried to calm his thoughts, thinking about what to do next.

"Hello my friend."

When the sound rang, Alan opened his eyes suddenly.

The person standing inside the door smiled friendly and bowed slightly.

He is tall and looks middle-aged, but those green eyes reveal that his age is far more than what he seems to be on the surface.

Wearing a set of greasy and poorly made work clothes on his thin body, his sleeves were rolled up, revealing thin but muscular arms, he smiled and took a step forward.

"what's your name?"

Alan raised the first question.

"Varus, you just call me Varus."

"Varus..."

"Nice to meet you."

The captain of the 007 team laughed, his voice was loud, calm and unhurried.

"Sorry, this must be a bit shocking. I apologize. I've been here...I've been here for a while, but I think it would be the best if the fate of the two of us had never met. After all, things are Changes."

Alan just stared at Varus.

He remembered the last time the sun shining on the buildings in Irvine City, and the sky in the distance slowly turned into a deep blue like midnight.

Varus nodded, as if he was thinking about the same moment.

"A lot of things have changed, but we are both here."

Varus said that as he spoke, a certain pattern appeared on his skin, spreading like ivy on the wall under the sun's rays.

The emerald green Ouke's smiling face covered his neck and face without a trace. Varus's smile seemed to have opened a crack in the jungle of tattoos on his face.

Then these tattoos faded in an instant.