That's right, that's what adventure is like!

He wore a clean, almost white linen robe, but his face was covered in grime, and his hair was matted and tangled from not being washed for a long time, looking like a mess of weeds.

The flames were still burning, but they slid across the robe like grease floating on water, and were swallowed in wisps with each breath.

He wore a smile, but it wasn't one of sympathy or pity; rather, it was a strange... fanaticism.

This fanaticism reminded Roland of some madmen from his past life, except that those madmen in his past life were often confined to hospitals, while this one truly possessed the power bestowed by faith.

"Praise the sun."

The barefoot man prayed again, consuming the last embers of flame, a satisfied smile appearing on his face, and a faint golden light beginning to emanate from his eyes.

The light grew brighter and brighter, as if it were about to condense into liquid and flow from the eye sockets.

So he took a step forward.

The guards took a step back.

"Sunrise, can you smell it!?"

He spoke softly, his tone filled with unbelievable madness, yet also mixed with an indescribable joy.

With just one sentence, the guards were on high alert, gripping their weapons tightly, but no one responded.

This made him laugh again, revealing his yellowed, uneven teeth and the thick, golden liquid deep in his throat.

The fanatic looked up at the full moon in the sky.

"The taste of blood, the taste of sin..." He licked his lips with ecstasy, his eyes still gleaming with a terrifying golden light. "God says, you people..."

The fanatic abruptly turned his head, staring at the armed guards with a greedy smile.

"They should all be burned to ashes."

The moment the last word was uttered, countless cracks appeared on the ground, and a faint golden light shone between the cracks, beginning to flow silently like lava.

The guards took a step back, barely maintaining their formation, but their arms had begun to tremble.

They had never seen this man, but they had heard of the fanatics of the Sun Church.

--madman.

This barefoot man lived up to his reputation.

"Don't run," he whispered, his tone as gentle as if coaxing his own child, "The true sun needs to be watered with your blood."

He raised his hands, spread his fingers, and then slowly closed them.

The golden lava from the cracks in the ground floated up and transformed into clusters of dazzling golden flowers. The intense heat caused the guards to retreat once more.

"Do you know?" the fanatic asked in a low voice, as if interrogating his inner faith, "The flames of the sun do not burn flesh and blood, but sin."

With a gentle push of both hands forward, two golden flowers formed from blazing flames began to move slowly, rushing towards the two nearest guards, drawing beautiful arcs in the air.

"No--"

The two guards turned and fled, but Jinhua followed them unhurriedly until she finally landed lightly on their heads.

A golden light flashed.

The guards stopped in their tracks. They didn't scream, and there were no burn marks on their backs, but gold began to seep from their eye sockets as well.

A phantom emerged from behind them, its face exactly the same as theirs.

The phantom clenched its fist around its own head, then gently exerted its strength, chanting loudly, "Blessed Sun!!!"

boom--

Both of their heads were crushed simultaneously, and the splattered blood was evaporated by the scalding golden flowers. The phantom turned around, bowed to the barefoot man, and then disappeared.

The remaining guards remained silent until someone shouted "Run!" before their stiff bodies regained control and they fled towards the outside of the cemetery.

They are not afraid of death, but they don't want to die like this.

The barefoot man smiled contentedly, and the remaining gold flowers began to flutter, following in the footsteps of the guards.

He didn't look, but instead closed his eyes, savoring the lingering burning scent of blood in the air, as if he wanted to swallow it into his body, and his body began to tremble slightly.

"Praise the sun."

He chanted softly, his prayer filled with devotion.

……

……

From the moment that man appeared and repeatedly prayed aloud, Roland knew that the situation on the other side was stable.

A fanatical follower of the Church of the Sun, whose actions essentially represent the will of the local church, and who also possesses the power to change the course of a battle.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one aware of this situation.

Hector is attacking.

He raised his greatsword again and swept it across Roland with even more force, clearly intending to finish Roland off as quickly as possible and then deal with the fanatic.

when!!!

Roland barely managed to block the attack, but the powerful force sent him staggering back five steps, his blood surging and his arms feeling sore and numb.

To make matters worse, the longsword in his hand, which had accompanied him on many adventures and was left behind by his great-uncle, finally broke after being struck once again.

laugh--

The blade was stuck in the soil, and the rest of the sword was full of dents.

Roland looked down at the broken sword in his hand and was momentarily stunned.

This sword accompanied him as he killed his first goblin, traversed the dungeon, explored the secret realm, dealt with the burrowing worm, and just now, he even slew Austin.

It's over just like that.

But now, he had no time to deal with his complicated emotions, because Hector's next sword was already coming!

boom--

The imposing greatsword whistled through the air as Roland tumbled about, sparks flying as the blade scraped against his scales, followed by several more slashes.

Horizontal sweep! Diagonal slash! Vertical chop!

Under the relentless onslaught, the greatsword was wielded with impenetrable force, each strike carrying the determination to kill.

Roland kept dodging, seizing an opening to sheath his broken sword, and then drew his Blazing Pulse Javelin with a backhand motion. Fiery red runes flashed, repelling the chill in the air.

"The item is good, but it's not good for close combat!"

Hector glanced at the javelin, then leaned forward and brought his greatsword down in a vertical slash!

Roland parried with the javelin held horizontally in front of his chest!

when!!!

A violent tremor came from the gun, causing him to stagger backward again. A metallic taste rose in his throat, and his back slammed into a small mound of earth, nearly landing on the exposed skull!

Before he could adjust his stance, Hector's figure slid in like a ghost, and his greatsword came crashing down!

This sword strike is unstoppable!

Just as Roland was struggling to raise his gun again, attempting to gamble on a parry and counterattack, something unexpected happened!

boom--

A pale flame suddenly rose up, attacking from the side and forcing Hector back half a step.

The splashing flames exploded at his feet, emitting a foul stench. Hector's gaze shifted to a figure not far away, and the figure that came into view made him squint slightly, letting out a hoarse voice.

"Are you looking to die?"

It's Luca.

He had quietly crept onto the battlefield without anyone noticing, one hand still in a spellcasting posture, the other holding several dark gold blood cores.

"Crack—"

After swallowing another blood core, Luca was enveloped in pale flames. He twisted his neck, making a crisp cracking sound, and smiled.

Roland's expression changed slightly.

He looked toward the wooden house.

The figures inside lay scattered on the ground, each with a bloody hole in their chest, as if the undeveloped blood core inside had been forcibly removed.

Judging from the golden slime covering the blood hole and their slightly heaving chests, it must have been done by that fanatic.

Miscalculated.

“Some people are about to conceive successfully,” Luca smiled, pointing to his chest, where the flesh was still faintly writhing, proving that his own blood core had also been removed. “That fanatic won’t just stand by and watch him die.”

Roland didn't speak, he just watched coldly.

"He thought this would save them," Luca said softly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Unfortunately, he knew too little about the blood core."

"This thing is not just blood and qi, but also contains the essence of life and imprisons magic power... That's why it's so valuable."

"Keeping something like this is the best reward for me."

"You've finally found your chance," Roland finally spoke, a cold glint in his eyes.

From the very beginning, this necromancer was looking for an opportunity to escape, but he never expected that this opportunity would ultimately be brought about by the fanatical followers of the Church of the True God.

To his surprise, the next second, Luca extended his palm towards him.

"Give it to me," he said with a smile. "This is your chance. If it weren't for me, you would be dead."

Roland paused for a moment, his hand gripping the javelin hesitating, before making his decision.

For now, their enemies are all "black sheep".

You can try.

call out--

Austin's blood core was flung through the air by the javelin, tracing a graceful arc before landing steadily in Luca's hand, where he gazed at it greedily.

Before the dark golden light had faded, countless faces twisted and gnawed wildly; these were Austin's resentment, attempting to devour his former mentor once more.

But there's no chance anymore.

Snap—

The fist-sized blood core was swallowed in one gulp, causing Luca's entire mouth to bulge and his cheeks to deform, with dark golden light shining through his flesh.

The juice dripped down his jawline, corroding small pits in the scarlet clay and making a sizzling sound.

Hector made his move the instant the blood core was thrown, his greatsword aimed straight at Luca's face, but he was still a second too slow.

boom!!!

Pale flames exploded!

Hector was forced to retreat!

Luca was covered in blood, his tattered robes clung to his skin, a ghostly green flame flickered in his eye sockets, and his breath caused the nearby vegetation to wither.

This is what a necromancer should be like!

Although not at its peak, it was enough.

He raised his finger, and the pale flame automatically transformed into a bone staff, which he held in his hand. Then, he gently tapped it into the air.

A dozen skeletons covered in rotten clothes crawled out of the ground, most of them with only a few wisps of withered flesh remaining, yet they charged toward Hector fearlessly!

The pale flames transformed into a surging tide, crashing onto the plate armor and leaving charred marks. The edges of the shoulder guards began to melt, and even the greatsword developed small cracks.

More numerous were dark red flocks of crows, appearing from nowhere, circling under the moonlight, with chains extending from their feet, trapping Hector within them.

At the same time, Roland also made a move!

The crimson runes lit up, leaving a long streak of light in the night, accompanied by a shrill whistling sound as they tore through the air, heading straight for the wound on Hector's ribs!

when--

Hector swept his greatsword across, deflecting the javelin, and simultaneously elbowed a skeleton behind him, then ripped apart the falling bone lock with his sword!

But there are too many!

The skull shatters and then reforms itself.

Even if the bone lock is broken, it will keep regenerating.

Even worse, Roland constantly attacked and harassed him from the side, targeting Hector when he was busy dealing with necromancy, forcing him to take several hits.

With such an offensive, another opportunity has finally arrived!

call out--

Three bone spikes shot out at bizarre angles, embedding themselves in Hector's leg armor, corroding it and emitting faint white smoke, causing him to let out a muffled groan.

Roland could see clearly that his leg was already showing signs of being mangled and bloody, and his movements had slowed down for a moment, which was the perfect opportunity to strike!

*Pfft!*

The runes lit up, and the swirling patterns carried the spearhead, piercing flesh and blood, embedding itself in fascia, and then... fiercely pressing against the bone!

Hector whirled around and swung his sword in a sweeping motion!

boom.

Roland raised his arm to block, his head spinning for a moment, but he still held on tightly to the spear, letting the runes continue to devour his blood energy!

Another sword strike!

This time, Roland didn't try to fight back; he drew his gun!

The three blood grooves on the spearhead gleamed with a bright dark red luster, and the splattered blood was incredibly thick, bringing a scalding sensation as it landed on him.

"interesting."

Hector wiped the blood splattered on his face and looked down at the red stains on his hands.

His gaze swept over Roland in front of him.

The sword strike did miss; Roland's greed ultimately came at a price. The blade grazed his neck, and blood was now gushing out.

Roland was also looking at him.

The Blazing Pulse Javelin, having absorbed the blood of a powerful being, now shone exceptionally brightly with runes, and he believed it now possessed the power to pierce plate armor.

Just one more step.

Just then, a loud prayer came from afar.

"Praise the sun!!!"

boom--

Almost the instant the sound came, Luca turned into pale flames and fled into the distance!

The situation was very similar to the last time at the cemetery, except that the opponents they faced were completely different!

"God says, what He has given you, He will return to you."

The fanatic's voice was filled with intense pleasure, and golden light shone in the forest, transforming into a rising sun that chased after Luca!

He did it on purpose; he deliberately gave Luca the blood core!

All for the sake of enjoying even greater evil!

Roland suddenly realized this, but there was no time to think about it further.

Hector moved!

He seized upon Roland's momentary lapse in concentration, raised his greatsword, and cleaved it straight for Roland's head!

The sword tore through the air, revealing a faint white light, and the resulting wind pressure caused countless tiny wounds to appear on Roland's face.

It is a certain combat technique.

Roland suddenly realized this.

It was too late. Although it was extremely brief, a pause in thought is fatal in a life-or-death struggle.

Hector's sword drew ever closer, and in a very short time, it had crossed the last barrier between the two, coming within three inches of his head.

Time seemed to stand still at that moment.

He could see his own reflection in Hector's cloudy eyes, the nick on the blade, and his own blood stained the edge.

Time slot.

In extremely dangerous situations, this ability is passively triggered, greatly enhancing his perception and reaction speed.

Roland saw the only way out.

It's something akin to intuition.

This instinct made him raise his left arm, twist his body with all his might, and try to keep the sword light away from his head and towards the scales covering his shoulders and neck.

That was the hardest part of his body.

Time flies by.

puff.

The greatsword struck the scales, shattering them after a brief pause, and then continued its downward trajectory at an unimaginable speed.

The blade sliced ​​into flesh and blood, lodging in the collarbone with a muffled thud. Blood gushed out, carrying a faint smell of rust, and splattered onto Roland's face.

The effects of the berserk potion had long worn off, and intense pain surged through Roland like a tidal wave, nearly causing him to faint.

But he didn't.

The runes on his right javelin flickered, and the moment the greatsword was stuck in his collarbone, he thrust it upwards.

There was no technique involved; he simply used all his strength to aim at the wound on his ribs, piercing through the gap between the ribs and into his internal organs.

The runes flickered wildly, absorbing all the blood energy.

Hector looked down at the javelin that had pierced him, then at Roland whose right shoulder was almost broken, and a rare smile appeared on his lips.

"That's ruthless."

"Unfortunately, it's not stable enough."

Then, he raised his greatsword and slashed down again!

This time Roland was too weak to block anymore. The sword landed on his right shoulder, continuing along the previous cut, severing his collarbone and pinning him to the ground.

boom--

Everything before my eyes was blood-red, with only a sliver of moonlight filtering in. The sound of wind filled my ears, and my vision began to blur.

Roland felt he was going to die.

It wasn't because of the gushing blood, but because the sword strike carried a strange energy that burrowed into his body through the wound, frantically destroying his organs.

But Hector was not dead yet.

He knelt beside Roland, supporting himself with his greatsword, panting heavily. His face was pale from blood loss, but he still had a sliver of strength left.

So he raised his sword and slowly moved the tip toward Roland's throat.

"……goodbye."

A whispered sound rang out, and the sharp blade was already close to Roland's throat, but suddenly stopped.

—Pfft.

Roland heard the sound of metal piercing flesh, but felt no pain. He looked up, trying to make out what was happening.

He saw a thin figure straddling Hector's shoulders, plunging a gleaming silver dagger into his eye socket and twisting it around.

Blood flowed down his cheeks and landed on Roland's face, slightly warm.

Hector’s throat bobbed, and he struggled to lift his head, his cloudy eyes reflecting another pair of eyes.

Blackish-blue vertical pupils.

His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out, and the last glimmer of light disappeared from his eyes.

He embraced death.

Aletta climbed off Hector, struggled to move the greatsword away, and then groped her way to open Roland's bag, taking out the items one by one.

Roland saw something familiar.

So he spoke softly, with his last bit of strength.

"You can only kill if you're full."