CHRONICLE GODSFALL
Death Night
Cloudhawk's sleep is no longer good. In his dream, he once again returned to the tunnel leading to hell. The surrounding area was scattered on the severed parts of the body and limbs, and the blood-soaked body on the ground were all twitching. All the slaughtered scavengers started to rise up. Some of them had acid-eaten faces that had been made unrecognizable, while others partially collapsed their heads due to the blows of the stone war hammer. The other one had actually been split in two! They all slowly began to gather and huddle around Cloudhawk like angry and vengeful ghosts.
No no! Cloudhawk frantically tried to escape, but his legs seemed to be fixated in place. It was as if he was clinging to the viscous blood and freezing on the ground.
Right at this moment, a scavenger wielding a short sword limped in an extremely awkward manner. His right leg had been cut off, while a terrible gaping wound was on his neck. The wound was so deep that his head half fell from his neck, and his eyes were filled with fierce hatred. "Why didn't you save me!"
The scavenger's voice was more terrifying than the lamentation of all the ghosts of hell, and he raised his short sword and dealt a slashing blow. Frightened, Cloudhawk leaned sideways to dodge. And just at that moment, a spear suddenly flew from somewhere and pierced through his chest!
The second attacker was a mutant who looked quite young. One of his eyes had been pierced, leaving only one good eye left on his smiling, savage, and frightening face.
Cloudhawk fell to the ground, completely unable to move as blood flowed out from him like a geyser, draining his strength with it.
The scavengers and sweepers all disappeared. Moments later, a fat white man and a muscular black man led a group of mercenaries who were chatting and laughing. They did not seem to even see the young man who was fighting for his life on the ground.
Cloudhawk reached out to them. "Save me!"
Their eyes were filled with contempt. "A useless empty tooth."
A mercenary peddled and spat, a look of disgust on his face. It was as if he had stepped into a pile of dirt and wanted to vent his frustration. All the mercenaries cursed as they moved around Cloudhawk.
Cloudhawk just lay on the ground, helpless. His eyes slowly started to become empty as he felt his body getting colder. He wants to reach out and reach for something, anything, but his determination and will are both away from him. It was a terrifying feeling, an overwhelming feeling of despair.
His body became ice-cold, then began to rot and emit an aura of dirtiness. Countless insects and worms began to gnaw at his corpse, which eventually became a feast for rats.
But even when there was nothing left of Cloudhawk other than the skeleton, his desires and thoughts remained intact. Endless despair and sadness filled every bone, surrounding his corpse as he sank deeper and deeper into the endless darkness ...
Crunch! The kreaak!
Cloudhawk could suddenly let out a faint sound. It was like a bucket of cold water had been poured onto it, and he immediately jolted awake from that terrible nightmare.
His entire body was covered in cold sweat. He had died a very miserable, meaningless death. A feeling of despair, slipping into that eternal darkness, a feeling of sadness that was completely helpless. What a scary nightmare!
It was not dawn yet. The night was so dark, everything seemed to run away together. The entire outpost had been securely locked, and everything was so quiet that he felt as if he could barely breathe.
Crunched. The kreaak!
The voice sounded again. It was a small, almost invisible voice that remained piercing his soul like a dagger. It was this voice that shocked Cloudhawk, and at this moment goosebumps began to appear all over his body once again. He could sense that danger was enveloping him!
Something had appeared in the cracks of the locked door, something glittering with a cold metallic light within the darkness. It was the thin edge of the knife!
The knife slowly, quietly protruding through the stitching of the door, then slid upward until it hit the wooden bolt. The blade remained there for two brief seconds, then slowly started to climb upwards once more and lift the bolts upwards.
Is that one of the mercenaries? No way! Why would one of them come at a time like this and use a stealthy method to open the door?
Cloudhawk's heart was pounding very fast, he felt as if it was about to burst out from his chest. He hurriedly gripped the short sword lying beside the bed, his hands still slippery from the cold sweat of the nightmare. He hid the short sword under him, then curled up around him.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. But his muscles remained tight, ready for action at that very moment.
This midnight intruder is clearly quite well trained in his movements. The knife easily lifted the wooden bolt without causing much noise at all. He pushed the door open with just a crack, but did not immediately go inside.
This is a very experienced predator! Without a doubt, he was currently scanning the interior of the room to assess the situation.
Cloudhawk did not want to reveal the fact that he was awake, so he simply lay on the bed motionless, maintaining the same breathing pattern as if he was still sleeping.
After four or five moments of silence, a long sword pierced through the gap and pushed the door open, letting the moonlight in from outside. This midnight offender was quite tall and muscular, and his head was full of disheveled hair. He held the knife in his left hand while he gripped the long machete in his right hand. The machete blade seemed to be covered with many deep red patches, and it emitted a faint but sickening smell of blood. The tip of the machete was extremely sharp, and it emitted a cold light that warned of impending danger and death.
He's here to kill me! Cloudhawk's mind is in a state of chaos right now. He was filled with horror, fear, anger, but mostly confusion. Gosh darn. Who is this guy? This is my first day in the post. Why would someone choose to attack me like this?
Cloudhawk's sharp feeling of danger shouted to him that this midnight intruder was a dangerous person. If he tried to fight the man head-on, he would probably fail. He had to take the opportunity to fight back and kill the man.
The midnight offender walked silently like a cat, making no sound at all as he slowly, steadily inched forward. He slowly, steadily raised his right arm up high, then brought his machete down with a ferocious slash that flashed in the darkness of the night. All this time, he had not shown the slightest hint of anger or hatred. It was as if he was cutting down a wooden puppet rather than a human.
Whooshing sound! Cloudhawk instantly rolled to the side, letting the machete almost tear his face when it was hacked into his bed. If he was only a second slower, it would be his head! Cloudhawk then launched himself from his bed with both feet, exploding with all his strength!
Faced with the sudden attack of the Cloudhawk spring, the man did not hesitate for a second. He decisively removed his machete, then managed to dodge Cloudhawk's surprise attack with an almost supernatural agility. At the exact same time as he dodged, he sent the blade in his right hand towards Cloudhawk, flashing like a beam of cold light.
He's too fast! Not only was he an experienced hunter, he was also an experienced assassin. His strength, his speed, his agility, his response time, his combat experience, his mental toughness. How could a half-grown child growing up in the rubble on top of the trash be a match for him? Cloudhawk knew from the moment he missed his attack that he was done.
That line of cold light moved straight towards Cloudhawk's throat. There was no wasted movement, no blossoming flowers; it was a swift and ferocious attack, and it was also extremely accurate. The blade was sharp enough to easily tear through the skin and flesh, then piercing through the artery was as easy as sawing noodles.
Cloudhawk felt as if everything started moving in slow motion!
Although he had faced death on many occasions in the past, every time he was in a state of overwhelming fear and panic. He had never faced death with such vigilance and mental clarity as now. He could actually see death coming for him but could do nothing about it.
He was finally able to escape his status as a lowly scavenger and a wreckage. He has not had the opportunity to grow strong, to gain freedom and independence, to control his own destiny. Will it be like a dream? Was he really going to die a meaningless and desperate death?
No. gabe. He can't die! Not like this!
Cloudhawk let out a beast growl, a growl filled with wild wild wildness and fury. A strong desire to stay alive burst out from his chest, and that moment seemed to form a resonance with something else in his chest. Instantly, waves of fiery strength and burning determination filled his entire body, almost as if there was an invisible force helping Cloudhawk. With that, Cloudhawk dodged the incoming blade with incredible agility, suffering only a slight scratch on the skin that left only the smallest marks.
The offender was silent. How did the target, this kid, suddenly seem to turn into someone else entirely? However, he remained a calm, calm, and very experienced hunter; he was able to box out his shock and prevent it from affecting his movements. The knife did not stop at all, and in his hand it looked like a living creature as it curved backwards and unleashed a beautiful but deadly butterfly attack that flashed across the dark night.
No matter how agile or agile the prey is. In the end, it was nothing more than a weak little boy! These few short conversations immediately told the intruder how weak Cloudhawk was, and he did not care about the child at all. He decided to settle things with his next attack just by cutting the boy's throat, and his movements grew faster and faster.
Just as the sharp knife was about to kiss the boy's throat! A clear voice rang out, and the dancing blade light suddenly disappeared. A deceptive delicate hand had been stretched out at lightning speed, then clamped the violator's wrist with a speed and power far greater than it should have. The offender felt as if his wrist had been stuck in a metal vise. He really could not escape the clutches of those skinny little hands.
"You want to kill me?" The child's iris was completely red, making it look like a devil's eye. He seemed to be completely possessed, and there was not the slightest bit that could be described as the rational thought seen in his gaze!
The offender suddenly started to feel a hint of fear. This is not a weak young man. This is a raging animal!
"You want to kill me!?" The first time the young man said these words, it was in the form of a question. This time, it came in the form of an angry declarative shout. The young man's handsome face was already twisted into a hideous mask of anger, and he suddenly tightened his grip. THE CRACK! The young man broke the visitor's wrist.
The offender howled in pain, but it only lasted for half a second. At the same time Cloudhawk broke the violator's wrist, he pierced with his short sword several times his previous speed and with ten times his previous savagery. The blade of the short sword tore through the skin of the offender then pierced his lungs. It felt as if a block of ice had pierced through the violator's body, causing it to instantly become ice-cold.
Cloudhawk immediately took out his short sword, and as he did so, he tore through the throbbing and throbbing organs. When the sword came out, with it came the blood, vitality, and strength of the hunter. Cloudhawk's face was bathed in the blood of the gushing violator, and his blood was warm and foul-smelling. However, Cloudhawk was not nauseous at all; in fact, he actually felt excitement more than anything. One wild and frenzied thought filled every corner of his mind.
Kill her! Kill her! KILL HER!
The short word is of fairly low quality. As a result, at Cloudhawk's fifth stab, he was no longer able to withstand the violent force that his master applied, and he exploded inside the target's body. As for the hilt, it fell directly onto the ground.
Cloudhawk's entire body felt extremely hot, like it was being burned alive. It was like a volcanic eruption that had been dormant for a million years. His mind was filled with nothing but the desire to kill and destroy. He was completely unable to suppress that feeling in his heart. He wanted to scream, howl, destroy and destroy everything he could see!
What the hell is going on? What's wrong with me? Cloudhawk knew that he was on the verge of insanity. With the last bit of clarity left to him, he tore the strange stone apart and threw it to one side. As soon as the stone left him, he immediately regained his normal abilities.
There really is something wrong with that stone!
Right now, Cloudhawk had a rough idea of what was going on. Inside the stone, there seemed to be an ancient mind or ancient will, which had most likely been abandoned by its previous master. Through methods that Cloudhawk could not understand or even imagine, the former stone master had instilled his own desires, thoughts, and even energy within the stone. The reason he did so was to ensure that, under certain special circumstances, the stone would have a major impact on Cloudhawk's life.
This is what happened the night before. That's what just happened.
The ordinary-looking stone once again returned to its usual and dull appearance. It did not seem to have any outstanding attributes at all and looked as clear as possible. Cloudhawk picked up the stone, focusing on it several times but still did not know how he should use it.
Where exactly did it come from? What exactly is that? And what kind of person leaves that brutal, terrifying, and powerful desire in the rock?
This stone is definitely an extraordinary one. Perhaps, in the future, it would help him once more. In the end, Cloudhawk decided to keep it but also decided that he could not let anyone learn it at all.
