Lord of the Silver Crow

Another place.

There is endless fog all over this area, but compared to other places, the fog here is denser, but also more dead.

It's like a dead ocean.

The spiritual fog here is almost completely still.

And in this dead sea of ​​spiritual fog, a middle-aged man with a beard is looking ahead.

In front of him, is a huge...city? harbor?

Countless seemingly decayed buildings are floating in this dead ocean.

Yes, floating, unlike other areas, this building is floating in this sea of ​​spiritual mist.

However, what is even more noticeable is that this ruin-like, huge city like a harbor is semi-illusory and semi-substantial.

It seems like an illusion, but it does exist here.

The bearded man, with some cold eyes fixed on the floating decaying harbor.

At this moment, a voice came from the side:

"What? Still not used to it?"

The voice is calm and gentle, but it seems to be too peaceful.

There is a kind of ruthless indifference in peace.

The shaggy middle-aged man turned his head and looked at the speaker.

"Immersed in the wonderful world woven by that great being? Can't you wake up?"

The speaker is a gray-robed man who vaguely maintains a human posture.

On the other side's face, there was a broken mask, and there were still broken things like armor on his body.

However, from under the broken armor, some feather-like things appeared. If you look at it in detail, you can see that his body is semi-illusory and semi-substantial. The limbs under the feathers have very little flesh and blood, except for feathers. In addition, there are only bones that are similar to humans but are slightly different from humans. Moreover, under close observation, you can vaguely see the inner cavity under the feather-like body surface.

Hearing the other party's words should be sarcastic or ridiculous, the middle-aged person wants to say something, but the tone is so calm that there is no fluctuation, so the middle-aged person has no way to judge the other party's tone.

He opened his mouth slightly:

"I can't judge how true what you told me is."

"Yes, yes, authenticity."

The gray-robed man looked at the middle-aged man in his hollow, eyeless eye sockets:

"On the contrary, the possibility of us being immersed in the illusion weaved by another great existence is also present. There are not many people who, in turn, doubt the authenticity of what we know, just like you. Combining all kinds of information, it is highly possible that our side is true."

Under the broken mask, the pale, bone-like face that slightly showed some bird characteristics changed slightly as the gray-robed man spit out.

"No one can be sure of'true'."

"There may be an illusion in the ‘reality’ we have that we can’t discern.”

"There may be a lot of "real" that we don't know."

"Distinguishing the truth and sorting out the illusion are the reasons why our dead brigade is constantly wandering in the phantom world."

The gray-robed man looked at the middle-aged man and uttered something like this:

"The drowned in the sea of ​​ignorance can never find peace."

Hearing that, the middle-aged man was just silent and did not immediately respond. Then, he looked at this scholar-like gray-robed man and asked:

"What is the name of my sequence?"

Hearing this, the gray-robed man slowly turned his head:

"name?"

"In the phantom world, do you still want to use that ancient contract?"

"However, I don't know."

The gray-robed man slowly turned around and moved forward as if floating:

"You have reached a fork in the road."

"At the lowest sequence, you have already taken a fork in the road, and it's thorough."

"Cognition."

"The fork in the road you took is cognition."

The gray-robed man slowly flew forward, and his voice became farther and farther away from him.

And the middle-aged man just watched the other side disappear into the thick fog, disappearing into the ruined harbor city.

However, the middle-aged people did not keep up.

In his vision, above this huge and dilapidated harbour, there were groups after groups of gray shadows similar to the gray-robed figure just now, floating around, or standing still.

When every figure looked at him, they had that kind of calm and chilling indifferent gaze.

"Port of the Dead".

This legendary base of the Dead Brigade in the Phantom Realm has a history that is older and more distant than he thought.

The members of the deceased brigade, the weird and evil undead in the church records, gave him a scholarly feeling.

"Either sleep forever in ignorant whispers, or sing at the end of knowledge..."

He unconsciously began to recite this "prayer" silently.

This sentence did not mention the prayer of the old **** of death.

.......

At the same time, the other side of the phantom world.

The woman with long silver hair is standing silently in place.

And beside her, around her, one after another, humanoid or non-human descent, is constantly following instructions to deal with the things in the ruins.

She is in a huge ruined city.

This is a strange looking building.

One building after another I don’t know how long it has been destroyed.

One after another silent and broken streets.

The directions of these streets and buildings all point to the center of the city.

That is, at the end of her vision, at the end of her vision, an extremely magnificent church.

The church looked very magnificent.

With countless towering spires, slender arches, and reliefs, the colleagues who merged this church with the entire city were filled with momentum.

Yes, a church.

Ms. "Tower" looked at this church, her eyes turned a little gloomy.

Surrounded by blood descent.

Surrounded by her body shape gradually fluidized with her emotional changes.

Surrounded by blood like a pool of **** monsters, Ms. "Tower" walked towards the church.

The four-legged monsters that stalked fiercely and staggered with flesh and blood limbs like beast claws, like human beings crawling on the ground, and some kind of reptiles.

Finally, Ms. "Tower" stopped.

In her vision, in this half-collapsed and empty church, one by one relief frescoes appeared on the inner wall.

Her eyes fell on the mural reliefs.

And the first thing that came into her field of vision was a mural of invisible objects that looked like a flame and presented a creeping dynamic.

The whole group of wriggling flames is like an eyeball.

What is even more strange is that the flame-like eyeballs seem to be looking at her.