The reincarnated devil was blessed by the goddess

Although he said so, Akzan could never find a place where he could see her in person.

On the battlefield, the fear brought by filth spread rapidly like a plague, filling every corner and making people shudder.

The people who were already few in number now seemed even more powerless.

They relied solely on their passion to persevere in this terrifying atmosphere.

Such efforts are obviously futile and cannot have any substantial impact on the situation.

At this moment, Akcan not only lost his weapon, but also faced the current dilemma with bare hands.

"Yeah yeah......"

Who would have thought that it was called the sword of dawn.

Instead of waking up Theresa, he woke up the terrifying monster in front of him.

It seems that filth and that girl are indeed two completely different beings.

Akzan staggered to his feet, his knees creaking under the weight.

He subconsciously reached for the cigarette in his pocket, but only touched the empty sleeve.

"what......"

He laughed dryly and looked down at his broken left shoulder. The cloth at the broken end was soaked with blood and had long since dried to a dark brown color.

When did this happen?

The explosions still echoed in the distance, each roar stinging his eardrums.

Akzan shook his head, trying to dispel the tinnitus, but it only made the dizziness worse.

Sweat mixed with blood slid into the corners of his eyes, and his vision was blurred as if there was a layer of blood mist.

"Fuck..."

He cursed under his breath and wiped his face with his only remaining right hand. His fingertips touched only sticky dust and dried blood scabs.

Akzan's vision gradually lost focus, and the roar of the explosion seemed to be pulled very far away.

Memories are like sand blown away by the wind, pieced together bit by bit to form the original picture.

He met Theresa for the first time.

At that time, she was just a clumsy country girl.

Her loose linen skirt was washed white, and her bare feet stepped on the wet pebbles by the river.

In her arms she always held a wooden basin that was almost half her height and filled with old clothes.

She would squat by the river all day, her fingers red from being soaked in the cold water.

If you ask why, it's because you get paid for it.

He observed that every time Theresa received laundry money, the shiny coins would never survive the evening.

Is it to reward yourself?

No, no, no, I'm just greedy.

She couldn't speak, nor did she cover her mouth with her hands when smiling like other girls, but her golden eyes would suddenly light up.

If she could really spend her life in ignorance, perhaps this would be the happiest moment for that girl.

The sudden appearance of the left brain was like a violent storm, destroying the entire village beyond recognition.

Innocent lives vanished in an instant, like smoke, blown away by the wind without a trace.

But she stood up from the ruins and naturally became a hero in everyone's eyes.

But her uniqueness meant that she was destined to be unable to stay in this place.

She became an adventurer, bravely embarking on an unknown journey, and then became a saint, shouldering the responsibility of saving the world.

Finally, she even ran to the border to look for the answer hidden deep inside.

It's really strange that her life seems to have nothing to do with peace and stability.

She is always on the go, experiencing all kinds of adventures and challenges.

Akzan suddenly felt a little guilty. He felt as if he had led Theresa down a completely different path.

But he himself was powerless and unable to give her any substantial help.

If Theresa had not been taken out of the village, what kind of life would she have lived?

Maybe she would live an ordinary and stable life like other villagers, without so many ups and downs.

There is no such thing as "if" in this world. Just like candy that is ruthlessly crushed by fate, under the sweet appearance, it hides endless bitterness and helplessness.

What right did he have to regret for Theresa?

I don't understand what she has been through, and I don't understand her inner pain and struggle.

If he really had such an idea, it would undoubtedly be a denial of all her efforts and a blasphemy against her life value.

That girl is so strong and brave. Even in the face of many hardships of fate, she never gives up hope for life.

Even in such a situation, it is really hard to blame.

But... to be fair, some blame is still needed.

Why is that...because he is no longer a handsome guy.

I'm afraid the girls in the tavern would be scared to tears when they saw his current face.

Seeing the tentacles attacking again, Akjan was no longer able to destroy them.

He struggled to hold on with only one arm, but it was still difficult to block the excruciating pain from the tentacles.

“Heh… huh…”

The weak gasps seemed to indicate that he could no longer hold on for long.

Maybe there is a glimmer of hope.

As far as he knew, filth was the product of the Goddess of Karma Fire, and the fire of infatuation was powered by burning people's emotions.

In essence, there is no difference between these two forces.

He had already learned this from the bishop.

As long as his will can penetrate the filth and act directly on it, perhaps he will succeed.

Akzhan's five fingers dug deep into the tentacle's rotten skin, and dark red sparks suddenly burst out between his fingers.

The embers that had been extinguished suddenly lit up again, leaving scorched marks on the filthy surface like a rekindled fire.

He watched the dark slime climbing up his arm with the last bit of his eye that was not yet covered.

He looked out into the night.

"Just wait and see...the sunrise..."

Before he could finish his words, the filth rushed forward like a herd of hungry beasts.

In the torrent of filth, Akzhan's consciousness continued to sink like a piece of red-hot charcoal.

He felt that his memories, flesh, blood, and even his soul were being broken down, turning into sticky energy and merging into the twisted body of the Three-Headed Dragon King.

However, in the depths of that chaotic darkness, a stubborn spark suddenly lit up.

That was the obsession he held tightly in his hand.

This burning longing turned into a red torrent, rushing through the filthy network of blood vessels.

When it hit the Dragon King's abdomen, the morning light on the sword and the fire of obsession entangled with each other, actually tearing a crack in the depths of the filth.

"Your death was a bit hasty."

Theresa's voice was filled with familiar disdain, but it caused the small spark to suddenly explode into a blaze.