Abnormal creatures' communication group

"They possess something more powerful than strength. That's rules, or perhaps it's faith. No, no, no, no, no, it's something indescribable and doesn't even have a concrete form. Before the rules they rely on for survival are erased, they are immortal, endlessly reborn."

"Perhaps they will continue to exist until the end of time, even when the humans who created them are destroyed."

"They are truly monsters, a... in a sense, perfect creation."

The supervisor finished his last few words with a smile, but only he knew how much bitterness and falsehood were hidden in that smile.

"Let's go." The supervisor extended his hand to Little Red Riding Hood, an invitation. "Instead of wasting time here, we should go find them as soon as possible."

Little Red Riding Hood didn't respond, but just looked at the other person without saying a word.

The manager paused, then immediately reacted. "Sorry, I almost forgot. This isn't my company. I should have explained that clearly."

"That was my fault."

"There are too many monsters over there. If we don't hold hands and use some abilities, we'll probably be separated and even scattered in the crowd."

"Of course, if you have any special means and think your disappearance is insignificant, then there's no need for that."

The other party spoke frankly, laying out all the interests clearly, and they were the people in the group.

Little Red Riding Hood seemed to have no reason not to believe it.

So she took someone's hand.

The two men pushed their way into the surging herd of pig spirits without using any of the strange abilities in their hands.

It's not that it can't be used, but there's no need. Those piglins are neither blocking Little Red Riding Hood's way nor are they locked up in a holding cell. It doesn't seem right to use it.

[World Manipulator] Fanatical Master Architect: Wow, two more in just a short while! Where are they? Why didn't I see them?

[Card Master] Little Red Riding Hood: I'm not sure. The people here, uh, anyway, there are too many strange creatures, and it's impossible to find anyone else.

[World Manipulator] Fanatical Architect: Then you guys squeeze to the end of the team. I'll be at the end of the team. We can find each other and take care of each other when the time comes.

In order to avoid being squeezed in there pitifully, Steve chose to stay at the back and move slowly with the people in front.

Anyway, he was not in a hurry. There was no point in being anxious. Just looking at the mission proved that there must be danger, but he didn't know what the danger was. It would be better to squeeze in at the back and deal with all the difficulties with the same attitude.

After all, they had agreed not to ask about ghosts, and he couldn't use this ability, so he just squeezed forward. If he squeezed forward and something happened, given how protective the guys inside were, he didn't know if the skin on his face could protect him.

At this moment, the cell man had found a high place and a comfortable position. He leaned there, holding a bottle of red something that looked like a drink in his hand, shaking it in his hand and drinking it slowly.

At first, when he had nothing to do and couldn't help but take a bite, he thought it tasted quite strange, but later he felt a little bit drunk.

Of course, the current situation is special, so he dares to do this. If it were in the past, he would have been in the coffin long ago.

When will the show start? If you wait too long, you will lose interest.

He held up his face, and even though he was leaning against the red bricks in an unremarkable place, he still looked like a real aristocrat.

The expected explosion had not yet come, and the piglins breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps it was really just some damn thief who stole the entrance door and did nothing.

The pig guard who was nervous and calling for help at the beginning also breathed a sigh of relief and couldn't help wiping his nose.

After all, he was the one guarding the door when it was lost. If something really happened, he would never be able to raise his head and face his compatriots in his life.

Until they smelled a hint of rotting wood starting to drift upwards, which was neither bad nor pleasant.

They all took a step back in fear, and some of the timid ones even fell to the ground.

If it weren't for the quick eyes and hands of their companions who grabbed those who had fallen to the ground, there would have been several people who were seriously injured in the previous round of crowding.

As the smell became stronger, they retreated faster and faster. Little Red Riding Hood and the supervisor, who were trapped inside, lost control of themselves and could only follow the crowd to avoid being trampled.

Even if they have some strengthening abilities, they are of no use in this situation. After all, they are not specialized in physical strengthening. If the Doctor came here, I'm afraid that if he wanted to stand there motionless, no one would be able to push him away.

451 An unexpected beginning

Doesn’t the title of Doctor mean chess player?

It means controlling everything that can be used on the battlefield as your own chess pieces to win the game.

...Although most people in the group now define a doctor as a muscular battlefield commander who personally beats the opponent down.

It doesn’t matter. It’s all about winning the game. There’s no difference. It’s not a big deal.

Withering squeezed through the narrow door. He originally wanted to blow up the entrance and announce the coming terror to those guys in the ruins.

But he couldn't, because the idiot below strictly forbade him to destroy anything. He didn't know whether his destruction would prompt that guy to stand against him. In that case, his revenge would really be hopeless.

So he could only squeeze out from the entrance in frustration. Fortunately, the door of the entrance was removed by someone, otherwise he would have to use his ribs to squeeze the narrow button on the door with great difficulty.

If he chooses to use his sacrum to press the button, should he still say something politely when opening the door?

I am here to kill you for revenge, please run away.

Hell, he's a thug! What thug would politely knock on his target's door and politely ask if he can kill him? If the other party disagrees, does he have to go back to his cell in disgrace to show his politeness?

If that were to happen, both this revenge and Withering itself would be a complete joke.

But that's enough of a joke.

He looked at the fearless pig spirits who were gathered in a circle, their fearless appearance, their funny faces filled with smiles. All this pushed his anger to the extreme, and his three heads were ignited at the same time.

If he couldn't use explosions and fireworks to announce his revenge, he would use the withering death to loudly publicize his existence and tell these treacherous guys that their nightmare was coming.

A cannonball like his head was generated inside his sacrum. All the piglins wanted to disperse reflexively, but there were too many companions around, so they stopped struggling, picked up crossbows, and did not hesitate to use their arrows.

The same goes for their companions. Since the worst thing has happened, don't regret it anymore, just solve it.

Dense arrows are about to pass through the center of the cannonball. Soon, the two attacks will intersect and continue to head straight for the destination, which looks like a lose-lose situation.

The Piglin's face bore the look of a senseless sacrifice, while the Wither was filled with only vengeful rage, completely oblivious to normal thought.

Until a purple-black wall suddenly stood in the center of the battlefield, blocking the vision of both sides. The wall was not very high, only slightly higher than Withering, and he could pass through it by floating.

But now this obsidian, which is not very strong, has become a life-saving medicine.

Withering attacks fell on it, and countless arrows also fell on it, creating the effect of a hedgehog.

Steve was lying on his side at the highest point of the wall, with his cheek propped up on one side, one leg hanging down, swaying on the wall. The pig spirit's face, which was completely unrecognizable and could not be found in the crowd, was now filled with an unforgettable, annoying smile.

But paired with that pig face with fangs and eyes that were almost as small as a dot, this smile that should have been sinister became a little too honest.

So much so that Val below almost couldn't hold back his laughter, and he had to press the corners of his lips with difficulty to prevent himself from laughing out loud and being caught by the other party, which would then become an insurmountable hurdle.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your savior, Shi... cough cough cough, has arrived. Why don't you follow me into battle and kill the enemy to show your might? Let the glory of the Lord shine upon hell, and let that idiot across the way, ah, no, wither and convert to Buddhism."

Steve spoke very quickly but with clear pronunciation, and the battlefield, which should have been in full swing, stopped at the same time as his arrival.

Because it's just too confusing.

After he said this, he suddenly stood up from lying on his side. He stood straight on the high wall with his arms outstretched, looking intoxicated, as if waiting for a warm hug or satisfying feedback.

But he didn't hear the expected cheers, and there was no movement from below. Steve couldn't help but feel frustrated for a moment, but who was he? He was Steve, and this momentary setback couldn't possibly have any impact on him. He would only face what happened next with an even more arrogant attitude.

He just stood there awkwardly for a while, then continued complaining as if nothing had happened.

"Don't wait until my precious golden boot kicks you in the ass before you move."

Then Steve was rarely completely embarrassed. He stared at the people below and the scene below. He only remembered opening his mouth but didn't remember making any sound. It took him a long time to utter a single sentence.

“…Not this one, move.”

The pig spirits below rushed to grab the arrows stuck in the wall. No one paid attention to his speech. They were all calculating how much gold the arrows they shot were worth. If they didn't get them, there would be no quarrel or fight. I'm afraid that before the battle even started, their own people would be beaten to death.

The most outrageous thing is that when some of the shots missed the target, were not in the right position, or did not hit the wall, he just gave up trying to grab them. How gentlemanly of him!

"...What a mess of a fight?" The cell man who was watching the fun on the rooftop was so depressed that he threw away the mushroom in his hand and couldn't help complaining.

If he had been so relaxed when he was fighting in the war, he would not have suffered so many illnesses, resulting in his physical weakness and collapse being much more severe than that of a normal person.

Not to mention the wandering ghosts who didn't even survive the war and didn't even have a name. When this island was prosperous, the bones of ancestors were buried under every inch of land, and the number of corpses he had handled was countless.

"How boring." He took out his heavy weapon and jumped lightly from the not-so-high floor, landing heavily on the ground.

The door of the building then broke open.

The handles of two huge scythes were carried on his shoulders, but the tips fell to the ground, scraping against the floor. The slightly heavy weight made his shoulders sink slightly, but he just hummed a little tune, looking very relaxed.

It was not until the high, sharp, and penetrating screams of terror pierced everyone's eardrums that the bustling and farcical atmosphere ended.

The withered skeleton shook his skeletal body to shake off the arrows stuck in it. He had fired that special shell before, which condensed and shot out madly from his hollow auxiliary bones.

But Steve's reaction was also quick. Obsidian walls rose from the ground one after another, and then dissipated after blocking an attack.

He didn't bring that much obsidian with him when he came down. These obsidian walls used for blocking were all made by him temporarily and would disappear after a while.

"Are you angry?"

Steve chuckled. "If you don't have any tricks, then forget it. Wouldn't it be better to just be a stone bomber?"

Although Steve has always been a very eccentric person, this does not mean that he is arrogant. The main reason is that the guy opposite is too familiar to him. He has fought with him many times before. After all, the core of the netherworld is still very important. Naturally, he will not be afraid when facing an old acquaintance.

A guy like this who has a single means of attack and can be killed at will as long as the opponent doesn't run away and has some milk, even if he has a brain, there is nothing to be afraid of.

Moreover, he had seen countless instances of the big guys persecuting the other side, such as the fully automatic withering killing machine and the withering brand bomber. They were so brilliant and varied that he felt sympathy for the other side, and then he gloated over the big guys' methods and expressed his approval.

It had been so long since he had met someone familiar that he didn't notice that at the end of the piglin group, a withered skeleton struggled to pick up a crossbow, and the slightly broken crosshairs were tremblingly aimed at him who was arrogantly on the wall.

The wither skeleton's possessed and uncontrollable posture really scared the blaze man. If he hadn't become more accepting of all kinds of strange things recently, and his brain made of only flames hadn't become a little smarter, he might not have realized for a long time that the other party was losing control.

All the blaze rod-like things on his body expanded and clamped the wither skeleton like chopsticks.

"Black Coal, wake up!"

He shook the other person hard, but the other person tried to shake him off without any desire to communicate.

The Blaze was so angry that he laughed.

"Damn it, damn it, I knew it would be like this. I knew if I didn't stay away from them, it would be like this!"

He became furious and tried to take the other person away by force.

"Go, go quickly, get away from them! Let them die, I don't care. It's better than being humiliated and being played with in vain, and then being unable to escape the fate of death."

Flames ignited on his body, making the already scorching space around him even more unbearable.

For the first time, he hated himself so much because he had a domineering appearance but no muscles. His output was entirely dependent on fire. It was not necessarily true that a withered skeleton with no muscles and only a skeleton was strong.

However, this did not prevent him from showing his determination.

"Now! Act normal!"

He made the Wither Skeleton stagger, but the other party had already taken aim and pulled the trigger.

The angle of the arrow was too tricky, and Steve was on guard against Withering the whole time, and he never thought that someone would attack him there.

He trusted this race he had never seen before so much that he did not expect an attack from behind.

The arrow hit Steve accurately. The intense pain almost broke his ability to think. His eyes went black and he fell from the wall.

The smile that had unconsciously appeared on Val's face froze at this moment. He just watched as the man, out of trust, fell from the wall and fell into the attack range of Wither. Because of the wall, he couldn't even see what was happening.

He only knew that the other party fell down, and then what?

He took a deep breath, restrained himself from rushing forward, and clenched his fists in worry and helplessness.

Everyone took Steve's resurrection for granted, but not him.

In this world, villagers didn't know how to laugh, think, cheer, or hold banquets.

In this world, monsters should not be able to break free from the constraints of instinct and become organized and disciplined.

This world should have been made up of independent blocks, each of which could not be split, but now the grass on the lawn can be pulled out, and some holes can be dug in the soil and sand.

Everything is changing, and even changing so fast that many people can't react.

In this case, how could Val dare to bet that Steve's resurrection would always be effective? You know, the last time he saw the other party die was during the war, and it has been a long time since that time, so long that everything can change. What's more, there is no bed in hell, so he can't even be sure.

So he took up the weapon without hesitation.

In the past, when Village Two fought alongside Steve, he always had to restrain his hands and feet because he was a general and had to consider the consequences when charging into battle. It didn't matter if he died, but he always had to bring those villagers back.

Now he is no longer a village fool, he is Val, and it is time for him to be a little willful like Steve.

452 Friction and Communication

As Yuval expected, Steve's wall disappeared so quickly that before he rushed to it, the front of him was bright.

He leaped into the air, gravity pulling him down, but with no fulcrum in the air, he should have been like a clumsy, short-legged crocodile that jumped up, tumbling miserably in the air, even though it was meaningless.

But Val didn't. Instead, he was as agile as a goat climbing, walking and jumping on a cliff. He adjusted his posture neatly, and a dazzling weapon that was eye-catching enough appeared in his hand, looking extremely high-profile.