The Evil God of Hogwarts

"Damn it, Sheikh, if the support you mentioned doesn't come, we will all die here." John shouted, although he knew that this would greatly damage morale, but the front building had been breached, if nothing else Support, it will only be a matter of time before these people die.

The poet used his last magic power to cast a spell and repel an earthworm monster that attacked him. The thing was cut into two pieces, but after twitching on the ground for a while, it resurrected and turned into two brand new ones. monster.

"Ah, that's great, buy one, get one free." The poet sighed, "John, I'm in a bit of trouble here, would you mind helping me out?"

While dodging the attack, John fired several magic counterattacks. He quickly confirmed the poet's situation, took out a wand from his arms and threw it over.

The wand split in the air, and the icy cold wind instantly froze the earthworm in place.

The poet gratefully shouted: "Thank you, my friend."

"Get out of here, Reko," John said. "The defense can't hold for much longer. We have to leave."

"Where to go?" The poet turned his head and looked behind him. There were also monsters there. "The roads in front and back are blocked."

John rolled on the spot in embarrassment, "Then I hope Sheikh can conjure a secret passage." As soon as he finished speaking, a huge mouthpart appeared in front of John's eyes. He didn't notice the amorphous monster hiding on the wall.

At the critical moment, a spear came through the air and penetrated directly through the mouth, and also penetrated several monsters behind.

"The party started early?"

The poet heard a rough voice ringing in his ears, followed immediately by a tall, muscular man walking past him.

He glanced at the person in confusion, and then looked behind him. The monster that was originally behind him had now become pieces of flesh and corpses all over the ground.

"Hey, wizard, don't you want to evacuate? The road behind is safe." The speaker was a man with light blond hair, and he winked at the poet.

"The support has arrived?" Reko asked doubtfully, and two more people passed by him.

John looked at those people with the same confusion. One of them was wearing a monk's robe, which represented the identity of the person coming.

These four people quickly joined the battlefield, and the originally one-sided situation suddenly turned around. The monsters were as fragile as paper in front of these four people.

"You're late!" Sheikh complained after escaping from trouble. "That's not what we agreed to do."

"Don't be angry, Mr. Mendez. We encountered some trouble on the way here." The man in monk's robes stepped forward and explained, and he took out a large gold cup from his robes.

Sheik lowered his head and glanced. It was filled with the so-called blessings of God from the Sabbat Order, just like the ones in his glass vessel.

"You killed a lot of them."

"Come all the way, kill all the way." The blond man interjected. The large-caliber revolver in his hand blew off a monster's head, and then he pulled out another gun like a magic trick.

The shape of the gun was very strange. The outside of the gun body was covered with brass gears. As the gears rotated rapidly, bullets were fired from the barrel, and their power was even more powerful than that of the revolver.

Sheikh did not stop, but started to organize rescue with his men who were still able to move. John and the poet gave up their plan to evacuate and went forward to help together.

"Who are those guys?" John asked the Sheikh.

"Apostles," Sheikh said, "or it would be more appropriate to call them witch hunters. They are all under Nathanael and are the strongest fighting force in the church."

Thinking of Nathanael who was behaving strangely, and then looking at the strong man who was shooting wildly with a heavy machine gun, John suddenly figured it out.

Recco opened a corpse and saw the dying Mark. "Here, there's one alive here," he shouted.

The wizard closest to him immediately ran over, and with him was the man with the sword among the four members of the church.

In this era, it was quite novel that some people still carried swords, but thinking about the things and people he met along the way, the poet felt relieved.

"Come, let's carry him out together." Reko motioned to the wizard to help, but the wizard was stopped by the man with the sword.

"He's hopeless." The man said and drew his sword from his waist.

"Wait!" Reko stretched out his hand to stop him, but the sword was so fast that as soon as he stretched out his hand, the sword pierced Mark's heart.

Then, under Reko's shocked expression, the man coldly drew his sword.

Everything happened so fast, Sheikh reacted and cursed, "Fuck you, what have you done?"

He was about to go to argue with the man, but his hand was held by the monk in robes. The monk raised his head, and John saw his eyes dim.

He cannot see. John thought.

"He was contaminated. George just did what he should do." The monk said calmly.

"I fucking know he's contaminated," Sheikh said, glaring. "But it's not your turn to end his life."

George withdrew his sword, not caring about the angry Sheikh at all. He turned to look out the window and said, "I'm going to find the commander."

"Come on, hell, I'm going to run out of ammunition." The strong man replied, "Hey, Danny, help me get the spear."

The blond man waved his hand and agreed readily: "Of course, my friend."

Recco noticed that the man was speaking French. George? Danny? Coincidence? The poet thought about it in his heart, and finally gave up and continued to think deeply.

"A bunch of lunatics." Sheikh cursed and walked towards his right-hand man, "Do me a favor, he deserves a funeral."

"Mr. Mendez, I want to remind you..."

"After cremation!" Sheikh emphasized.

John, the poet and Sheikh carried Mark's body to the school building. They cleared several classrooms for stacking the body.

After putting down Mark's body, John took out the wine bottle and took a sip. The long battle with the dream things made him physically and mentally exhausted. His spirit was constantly being impacted. In this case, it was really a task to cast spells continuously. test.

He looked at the poet and then at the Sheikh. The situation of these two people was much better than his, which made him feel doubtful.

"Reko, how do you feel?" he asked.

"Very bad. I just experienced a life and death battle, and this emotion can make me write a poem, well, maybe two."

"That's not what I meant, but..." John tapped his brain with his finger.

"Oh, you mean this?" The poet then reacted, "I studied occult science at Miskatonic University in Arkham, and there is a way to temporarily close my brain.

"In this way, the pollution of dreams can be reduced. Of course, this is not some Occlumency. You know, the brain..."

"Enough, enough." John waved his hand and turned to look at Sheikh.

The latter prepared a death prayer for his deputy, "May Avalon guide your path, my friend." He said the last sentence of the prayer, then stood up and took out a bottle of black potion from his pocket and threw it to John.

"Drink it, it will make you feel better," said the Shaikh.

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