Chapter 788: Never Forgotten City (Part 2)

But Diego was disappointed, and there was only reverberation here.
The ghost once walked on these streets, and the phantom of the wind and dust swirled, swaying in the wind of the call sign.
They only existed at the boundary of Diego's vision, and whenever he wanted to see more real, they were shattered by the wind again.
Over there, the figure flashed by, and the eyes fell into the wind in an instant.
There seemed to be three girls pulling and screaming, and when he turned his head to look, there was only dust in the air.
He clasped the scorpion chain saw in his hand.
Go deeper, go deeper, and there is a slight whine of pain-something, weakened, trapped, and almost ancient is unimaginable what is dying.
The desolate reverberation rumbled in his mind, depicting him as if it was a cruel thing imprisoned, and that thing had gone to death long and long ago.
On the dusty gravel, the slender figure carefully walked through the bones of the old city, and the wind of the gravel continuously brought the sound in the distance-inhuman voices, desperate screams.
Perhaps it was the big wind that played the trick, so even if he learned most of the Ling language, he could not hear any words in the storm.
Efforts to try to understand a single word will only make the rest of the noise more noisy, erasing all focused efforts.
As he went deeper into this impoverished city, Diego had given up his gaze on each fleeting ghost image, and turned to an unfocused glance, allowing the wanton wind to fabricate the shape of the ghost image.
In the turbulent gusts, the darkened spires flashed in the corners of his field of vision, and the towers pierced the hostile sky with incredible grace.
Suddenly, he looked back and tried to find Allied, but saw nothing.
"Ared?"
He exudes his rigid psionic induction, but he is not confident whether he can pass through the call of the wild wind.
"Demon, where are you?"
The resulting echo is just a tighter wind.
He didn't even notice when it left, or did it never exist from the beginning?
As Ahrid said before, this is a field that contains infinite possibilities, and concepts and cognition are meaningless here.
Even time seems to have lost control.
Diego's throat grew thirsty, but he was not slowed down by fatigue.
It was not until this time that he noticed that he had walked for more than seventy hours in the endless dusk. The only thing that could tell the time was the chronograph symbol on the inner screen of his helmet.
And this number began to become unreliable in the seventieth hour.
It began to pop up numbers randomly, as if it eventually succumbed to the supernatural laws of this place.
Diago recalled the shadow of Gerte's former face, so haggard and withered
He claimed that he had been traveling in Hananli for more than ten years, but for the apprentices around him, it took only a few heartbeats for the warlock to leave and reappear.
Diego suddenly thought, when he stayed here, pacing on the shore of hell, how much time has reality gone through?
The battle of Witrel was not extinguished, and he had no more time to waste. If he did not find what he was expecting in this place and could reverse the situation, then he had to leave quickly.
With such a heavy thought in mind, he continued to walk.
The scars of the craft world above the surface have all been reduced to the victims of rust and wind. He walked through another slow-dusty street, and his boots ran over ancient rocks.
It used to be a farm dome, where the plant community was carefully treated with fertilizers.
Or maybe it was just a domed public hall.
Diego tried hard to regain his imagination, resisting the illusion that he would not let himself think about the wind and dust.
After traversing hundreds of meters in the useless dust, he felt some curious and nausea tingling from the ground under his feet, pulsating slightly.
But looking left and right, only the ruined tower of the lost civilization was seen.
He crouched down and grabbed a handful of clay. As before, he watched it slip away from his fingers, torn away by the wind.
Nowadays, as seen, it is constantly polished and worn away, losing the pulsation of the past.
Diago took a breath and released a faint pulse of psionic energy below. He didn't feel any response, even a little shock and intuition.
This may only extend to one meter below the surface, or it may hit the core all the way. In any case, there was a weak, abnormal thing under his feet; it seemed impossible to touch, and there was only a trace of life echoing.
There must be some consciousness hiding below, but it doesn't feel like living creatures.
This caused him extreme curiosity.
So he increased his psionic powers, digging down, and searching, but only the deeply buried nothingness resisted his detection.
With a reluctant reluctance, Diago withdrew his psionic exploration in one fell swoop and recovered all his consciousness into his head.
There was a reaction now.
Boom Boom Boom~~~~~~
Even though he cursed his unreliable talents, Diego immediately sensed the agitation below, something digging upwards, which swallowed the sand all the way up, like a cold hound, sniffing the aftermath of the spiritual energy. Here.
In the moment of fear, Diago turned to stand firm, shuddering in front of the twisting despair that was approaching.
Clenching his teeth, he forced himself to release a wave of resistance to the existence of the claw below-like the smashing of the finger of the drowning person's survival to fight like a psionic punch~EbookFREE.me~ and the existence is only After declining for a while, after reuniting the forces, he pushed again.
Its shell pierced the ground, and fierce emotions poured into Diago's consciousness in an instant, full of cold and cruel feelings, and any other emotions were nowhere to be found.
And there is an incomparable sense of familiarity.
"Well!"
Diago stumbled in the face of this rising consciousness fountain, trying to maintain himself in the face of the urgency of its bite.
By the time the first giant hand was lifted from the sand, he had firmed his heels, and the scorpion on his shoulders was ready to emit light.
"this is--"
While protecting his consciousness in front of the splashing invisible hate, he watched and watched a statue struggling to rise from the scarlet soil.
But it cannot stand.
While struggling to stand up, the creature crawled closer, turning its hands in the sand to find the focus.
But it really seems unable to stand up.
Diego watched its crawl, and no more signs of damage could be found on its broken plate armor.
Suddenly, his long, mane-like hair, like smoke rising, fluttered beside its roaring death mask.
The wind swept, and the hair spread out on all sides, like a slave shackled by the storm.
Diago stepped back carefully, his boots running over the gravel, and he was already filled with curiosity.
No matter what the limp thing is in front of it, its anger spews like a halo of psionic energy.
Diego took another step back and continued to examine carefully.
Suddenly, he noticed the symbol on the chest of the giant, the symbol was so familiar that he had seen it countless times in ancient books.
"Blood Hand Kane! My God of War!"