The reincarnated devil was blessed by the goddess

At that moment, Akzhan's sword went out.

Everyone's attention was unconsciously attracted to the flaming sword. The moment Akzan raised it above his head, the flames on it completely subsided, like a cooling iron.

But the next second, they understood.

That was not extinction, but the final silence before the furnace was sharpened.

Just like every day and night that Akcan spent honing his skills with old man Tidarson.

The hammer is struck a thousand times, the charcoal fire is quenched a hundred times, just to find the only melting point at the moment when the metal is the hottest.

This is the easiest moment and also the hardest moment.

If it is not handled properly, all efforts will be in vain.

"dawn......"

Not a flame, not a ray of light, but a line of incandescent white purer than the dawn.

It was as if the darkness was torn open and the light from the sky poured down.

They seemed to have really seen the dawn, seen the horizon at the end of the night pierced by the morning light, and saw a world where filth dissipated and darkness retreated.

That is why Akjan is called Dawn.

It's not because of how gorgeous the flames he can cut out are, but because.

His sword always splits the first ray of light in the darkest moment.

No matter how deep the darkness is, a ray of light is enough.

But the fleeting light can never illuminate the eternal night.

Akzhan's sword hovered at the highest point, with a blazing white edge condensed at the tip of the sword, like a morning star about to fall.

The muscles in his arms were tense and the veins were bulging, but it was not for the purpose of striking with the sword.

But to send it out.

"Girl——!"

He roared, exerted force with both arms, and threw the long sword burning with the light of dawn directly out!

The long sword spun and cut through the filthy stream, leaving a blazing white trail, like a meteor tearing through the night sky.

It flew across the battlefield, past the chaotic fighting, heading straight for the golden glimmer that was still in the filth.

A wild smile appeared at the corner of Akzhan's mouth.

"Don't you want to save her?" He roared at Black Hand, "Then answer it—!"

This is not a sword to kill the enemy, but a sword to bring the dawn.

The darkness must be pierced, the night must be torn apart.

And he wanted to deliver this light to that stubborn girl personally.

Black Hand's huge body suddenly froze.

On this battlefield filled with murderous intent and despair, it felt the purest human emotions so clearly for the first time.

What that man threw out was not just a sword, but also his unreserved trust and expectation.

Three heads drooped at the same time, and the six turbid dragon pupils reflected the dawn light that cut through the sky.

Live, everyone wants to live.

Isn't this also the wish of the mastermind?

It wants to travel to see the northern lights, taste delicacies from all over the world, and stand at the end of the world to listen to the ebb and flow of the tide.

But reality is like cold chains. The moment filth corrodes the soul, it is destined to bid farewell to these ordinary beauties forever.

There are many people in this world who love my sister.

When the Sword of Dawn pierced the crack in the abdomen, countless fiery emotions surged in the filthy vision.

Akzan's almost obsessive protection, Strelitzia's desperate trust, and Snow Lotus's decisiveness on the frozen battlefield.

The emotions of everyone on the battlefield burned its soul like lava.

is it wrong?

No...how could it be wrong!

"Roar--!!"

The deafening roar of the dragon stirred up a storm of filth, but this time its attacks were no longer frenzied.

Six dragon pupils accurately locked onto every corner of the battlefield, and their tentacles swept through the crowd like whips of judgment.

Flames and shadows intertwined into a web of death, sweeping away one tiny human being after another.

The dragon head in the center looked down at the weaponless Akjan, watching him tear a bloody path through the tide of filth with his bare hands.

The man was covered in wounds, but he still stubbornly rushed towards the dragon's belly.

Filth was born from human despair of the world, but at this moment it is forcing humans to show the most extreme hope.

The knights that were blown away by the tentacles, the mages that were burned by the flames, and every figure that struggled to get up, all bloomed into brilliant spots of light in its filthy vision.

Another wave of tentacles burst out of the ground, this time knocking Akjan over directly.

Filthy matter wrapped around his limbs, and corrosive black mist began to devour his skin.

Want hope?

Then face the collection of all the despair in this world!

Akzan gritted his teeth and grabbed the tentacles wrapped around his neck with both hands.

Countless distorted human faces emerged from the surface of those filthy substances.

The wails of the dead, the curses of the martyrs, the hideous grins of the fallen, all the negative emotions seep into the blood vessels through the skin like venom.

"Depend on......"

Veins popped out on his forehead and flames ignited on his palms.

"How come it woke him up?"

Every time a tentacle is torn off, more negative emotions affect the mind.

"Just show me some fucking awful stuff!"

Akzhan suddenly roared, and flames like a furnace exploding erupted from his body.

The entangled tentacles curled up and carbonized in the flames, turning into black ash and falling down.

"you......"

Akzhan looked back and found that everyone on the battlefield had knelt down.

Everyone still fighting began to stagnate to varying degrees, some even dropping their weapons and kneeling to vomit.

They are experiencing the darkest parts of the filth, the whole sorrow that makes up this monster.

Black Hand had experienced things like this countless times.

"Haha..." Akzan grinned with the corners of his bloodstained mouth, his laughter hoarse and broken, "You...are you selecting people?"

He pinched his bloody left arm hard, his nails digging deep into the wound.

The severe pain was like a sharp knife piercing into the chaotic consciousness, temporarily dispelling the surging negative memories.

Scarlet blood dripped from between his fingers, emitting hissing white smoke on the scorched earth.

The situation on the battlefield gradually became clear. The Sword of Dawn was still stuck in the crack in the dragon's belly, but the light on the sword was strangely suppressed by some force.

Theresa's soul fire was clearly just a few feet away, yet it still maintained a faint pulsation.

As if...waiting for something.

"Ha... I see..." Akzan suddenly laughed out loud, panting and propping himself up on his knees. "That girl... could have woken up a long time ago, right?"

He looked around.

Xuelian was kneeling on one knee to catch her breath, and Strelitzia's silver hair fluttered like a battle flag.

Further away, two bishops of the church and a dozen or so scattered figures were struggling to get up.

Those who were still able to stand had the same fire burning in their eyes.

It was not a rage of revenge, but something purer and more stubborn.

"Hey! Three-headed lizard!" Akzan suddenly raised his middle finger to the sky, "Your test..."

He spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva.

“That’s so old-fashioned!”

Akzhan's fists clenched until they crackled. He suddenly understood the essence of this battle: it wasn't a showdown of force, but a brutal qualification test.

It questions every participant: Why are you worthy of her sacrifice?

Why is this world worth saving?

This massacre has long deviated from its original intention of revenge and has become the most cruel qualification certification.

It wants to witness with its own eyes whether this world that has pushed them into a desperate situation still has the consciousness worth saving.

"Stop being so self-righteous..."

He tore off his tattered cloak, revealing his back covered with old scars.

"Some things can only be explained in person."