Chapter 622: survivor

"This one is alive."
The voice awakened him from a coma, but it seemed too low for an Oak.
Something was shaking his head, pulling his helmet.
At the moment when the helmet was removed, a bright light squeezed from the edge of the pupil, and Kundera opened her eyes.
After taking off the bright blood red that stained the sky during the fierce battle, at this time his world became a thick gray, and the air was full of the smell of burnt and smoke... sour.
I am still alive.
Exhausted, but still alive, this was his first thought.
"Come on, buddy."
After the voice was finished, he moved him a little, and this time it sounded familiar, but it was still too low.
"Can you stand up?"
The figure moved in front of Kundrak and stretched out a big hand covered with armor to him.
The guard grabbed his wrist, but at this time every movement of his body spread a dull and annoying twitching feeling all over his body, but it was nothing.
The first thing that came into view was the white skull mark on the opponent’s breastplate, which is a very common sign for the guards, and the brace bracket that was burned in the back of the battle. Kundera also recognized the opponent’s helmet. The three silver horns on the top and the battle axe slung diagonally behind.
"Davari..."
Kundera spoke hard, because her mouth was dry, and she had to swallow constantly.
"Dawari the Decapitator."
"Yes."
With his armor broken, he nodded and said:
"It's a fake replacement."
"I thought you were dead."
"I almost thought I was dead, but the axe was still on fire."
He pointed to his neck. A deep wound in the bone was bleeding out. Such a fatal injury was terrible even for an Ok, but at this time he looked like he was describing a cut on a finger .
Davali Headbreaker, also a guard, is a good gambler with Kundera.
At this point, just standing up became a test for him.
His legs were trembling with an unprecedented sense of weakness, and the guard who had escaped blinked constantly, trying to make his eyes clearer, but to no avail.
"Wang Tingwei."
Suddenly, another voice came from nearby, and Kundera turned around and saw another strange guard searching among the dead.
He seemed to be aware of his gaze, turning his head and grinning at Kundera.
"It's great to see you alive, Wang Tingwei."
Davari laughed hoarsely, his voice cold and cold like an avalanche.
"This is a name worth drinking, do you think you can live to that time, buddy? You look like a jump and eat you and pull it out."
He felt the same, and the surviving guard pointed to his scorched, blood-stained armor.
"You look much better than me."
"That is."
The headbreakers agreed.
Kundela's vision gradually became clear, but what appeared before me was a lonely and desolate scene.
The rebels had long disappeared, and there was nothing but the dead bodies left on the ground, but the bodies in silver armor were everywhere.
"Damn..."
Kundera stood firm with a shake.
"Mao Mao, this group of damn..."
Kundera first recognized the scar face.
He fell 20 meters away from him. His arm and thigh were all gone. The fatal wound was obviously on his chest. From the shape of the wound, it was probably caused by a pistol.
The guard dragged his inflexible leg and staggered to him step by step.
"Hey?"
Kundera tried to shake him, knowing it was futile and useless, and could not feel anything from him.
The remaining memory told him a lot.
His gun was stuck, he shouldn't throw the axe out, he now desperately needs it.
The bullet hit him from the side, even when the traitor pushed him to the ground, he could hold back the painful wailing. When the machete pierced his breastplate, he was surprised and gave a relief sigh, such as The picture is normal when puncturing a pustule.
But he didn't stop fighting, chopping with that broken weapon...
he……
Kundera shook his head, the memory was really deep for him, and the corpses of enemies scattered around him told him the rest of the story.
"How long have I lost consciousness"
"How do I know? I have been in the arsenal below, busy chopping the group of farts into pieces, what is the last thing you remember?"
"They... they are gone."
Davari took off his helmet, revealing a face dotted with old scars. His skin may have been blackish, and now the top of his head and chin are covered with white iron gray.
But he seemed to take off his helmet purely for spitting.
"If that was the last time you remember, you slept for almost a day, and even if the rebels have been defeated, the battle continues."
Then, he stared at each other with almost curious eyes.
"what happened?"
"How did you stand up?"
"No one can withstand it."
He took a step and continued to search among the dead.
"How many are still alive in the guard?"
"Are you and me surprised by this answer?"
"No."
After looking for a while, Kundera turned to her old friend and asked.
"Blood Throat Boss? You should be with him..."
The headbreaker shook his head.
"He died very vigorously, and I will never forget that scene."
Bloodthroat died.
Kundera’s mood is very complicated. He doesn’t know much about him~EbookFREE.me~ As a guard, he is too cruel and xenophobic, but his fighting power has surpassed most of his garrisons. Blackstone's guard, which is enough for the latecomers to treat him as a legend.
He limped through the darkened palace, looking for other boys.
"Tell me what happened."
"Behind? The overlord brought reinforcements. There were so many carts that they could collapse this. The rebels were crushed like bugs. It's that simple."
"It's really detailed."
Kundera looked at him over his shoulder.
"Your storytelling level is as bad as ever."
The headbreaker snorted, his rough and low voice almost turned that into a low growl.
"You asked me, I told you, what else do I want."
He was stretching his arms, trying to make the scarred arm more comfortable.
The corpses are all over the place, and Kundera Ka in the battle did not care about it. His spirit was completely focused on slaughtering the enemy.
How much did they kill?
Soon, he found Ensodi, a brave guy, not far away, but not long ago he was just an unassuming feeding kid who could only deal with bouncing all day long.
He fell to the ground helplessly, his head down against his chest, a group of dead enemies scattered around his body, each with a gunhole or a rift on his body, his battle axe inserted in the same as a battle flag On the chest of a dead rebel.
Enzodis put his hands on his knees as if he were praying-apart from the spear that was deeply inserted into his chest, he looked so calm.
He subconsciously wanted to pull out the spear, but suddenly felt he didn't want to touch it at all.
Then he fell down, and there was only an echo in his ear...