$203 Never Compromise (4,000)

Jessica Jones was in a very bad physical condition at this time. She had a lot of wounds on her body, and her coat was torn into a pile of rags by the zombies.

The dense wounds that were difficult to count made her look like a character from a horror movie.

A few dim lights came through the dark and low maze, and the hand axe left several marks on the wall during the constant fighting.

The light came at this point, but it was not a symbol of hope.

Now she had nowhere to retreat, and behind her was the hard wall. She walked through all the corners of the maze. The corpses on the ground also covered every inch of the maze.

Now there was only one way to go.

Jessica's attack made the closed maze have a ventilated place, but this little air supplement was not much help for her tired body.

At most, it made her mind a little clearer.

In front of her was still a dense group of zombies, but she could see the end of the zombie team.

But the number of zombies in front of her still made her despair.

The ground was covered with disgusting corpses. In the stench, Jessica Jones felt a strong panic, just like when she was manipulated to attack innocent people.

The iron fist that could not be stopped broke her heart.

Her feet were covered with sticky paste, and every action seemed to exhaust all her strength.

At this moment, she finally experienced the despair of the attacked before death.

She waved her hand with exposed arm bones a little weakly, and the axe in her palm also had some narrow cracks.

"Is it like this?"

Jessica said in a weak voice, and too much flesh and blood were torn off her body under the attack of the zombies.

Her legs were much thinner and covered with uneven bite marks, like a roasted lamb leg that was gnawed by mistake, and the fibers of the meat bounced up, which was a bit disgusting.

The pelvis could be seen from the buttocks, and the rest of the meat had been scattered on the ground with the fallen zombies.

Even her long hair had fallen off her head at this time, because the zombies had pulled off part of her scalp.

At this time, she looked like a bald spot.

"Come on!"

Jessica yelled at the zombies that were approaching in front of her. Those guys had some difficulty moving on the corpses of their own kind.

From time to time, they would fall to the ground, and then be crushed on the ground by the guys behind them, turning into corpses.

There were still many zombies.

Jessica swung the axe in her hand hard, but she lost the muscle in her forearm and let the weapon slip out of her hand!

On the Holy Mountain of Harrogath, Luke was absent-mindedly dealing with Maddock's training, his eyes fixed on the projection above his head.

Jessica's miserable condition fell into his eyes, making his body tense.

Maddock just looked at him without saying a word, as if he didn't intend to remind him to focus on training.

"Ancestor Maddock, does she have a chance to come out alive?"

Luke's voice was so small that it was almost covered by the wind.

"I don't know, and neither does Orlak. Now only she knows whether she can come out."

Madoc wanted to hand Luke a bottle of wine, but there was no treasure he knew about in this place.

"You never say such roundabout words, so she is dying?"

Luke forced a smile on his face, and then said disappointedly.

Bruce Wayne, who was observing everything on the Holy Mountain, also became nervous. Life should not pass away easily.

He was struggling.

On a mountain not far away, Orlak sat cross-legged on the ground, and a cow leg was slowly roasting in the fire in front of him.

Orlak didn't like Jessica Jones as the heir, even if it was entrusted to him by Bulkaso.

Just watching a life gradually pass away in the secret realm would make the god of war feel lost.

"Is the sinner worth living?"

Orlak always kept repeating this sentence, and he didn't quite understand this question.

Especially after his death, he had a long time to think about this question, but he became more and more confused as he thought about it.

"What level of sinner is he? The kind who committed evil deeds and deserved to die? Or the kind who had to commit to darkness in order to survive?"

Banar looked at Orak in front of him with red eyes.

"Come on, Orak! People will die anyway. Who cares why? You have never done any evil, but you still died, didn't you? And your death was very miserable. Do you think you deserve to die?"

Banar grinned, revealing a mouthful of teeth that were a little too sharp.

His dark red beard kept rising and falling as he spoke.

"Trials are always like this. Those recruits died in my secret realm in the same way, and I have never lost it."

Orak did not turn around to look at Banar behind him, but just lowered his head to make his body look smaller.

"I really don't understand why you keep nagging about what has already happened? Aren't you on good terms with fate? Hasn't he taught you to adapt?"

Banar pulled out a pair of machetes and waved them around.

"Fate always observes silently and never intervenes to change it."

Orak spoke quietly as if he was repeating someone else's words.

These were the words of the Archangel of Fate and Balance, Isreal.

Israel always stands in a neutral position and tries to find solutions to problems.

But he does not engage in change and seldom takes action.

Even though he has always devoted himself to fighting against demons, he has never told others the final result of the Battle of Evermark.

He is like a puppet on strings, withdrawn and rarely talks.

"Can he really know everything? It's like he already expected Malthael to be a threat."

Balnaar remains skeptical of Israel's power.

Just like a fortune teller, if everything he says can change, what's the point of everything he says?

If everything he said was predestined, then it would be equally pointless for him to say it.

Banal does not believe in such a thing as fate. In his opinion, the value of fate is not as valuable as the stones that can be seen everywhere.

"Israel doesn't understand human nature, he's just looking for balance."

Orak turned the cow leg over on the fire and said casually.

"Fuck Archangel! Orak! I only know what you want to do and just do it. Will you regret fighting Hamelin?"

Banal swung his two swords and slashed at Orak's shoulder.

With a harsh sound of metal friction, Orak held the God of War's Blade in one hand and guided the two knives to the ground beside him.

"I'm not going to be convinced by you, just like I've never been able to convince you."

Orak stood up, and his huge figure completely enveloped Banal.

"But I can defeat you!"

Orak roared, and a shock wave extinguished the pile of flames. The snow on the ground was also blown away, revealing the densely packed recruits' hand axes stuck on the rocks.

These were the weapons of the new recruits who wanted to be his heirs, and each hand ax represented the loss of a life.

These recruits did not die in the fight with the devil, but stayed in his difficult secret realm.

"Then come!"

Banal's roar caused saliva to pop out of his mouth, and he charged towards Orak in a defenseless manner!

This kind of fighting was something the two had long been accustomed to, and it happened every time someone was about to die in Orak's trial.

This conversation has been going on for hundreds of years.

…

In a room at Heising's institution, something is changing.

"Silas Victoria. You are my child now."

Accardo showed a strange smile to the newly awakened Ms. Victoria in front of him.

In other words, Accardo's smile always carries a strange and evil aura.

Even a little crazy.

"What's wrong with me!?"

Miss Victoria, who had just woken up, was trying hard to recall what had happened before.

As an ordinary person, he rashly intervened in the extraordinary world and was taken hostage by a vampire wearing a priest's costume. Then he was asked by Akkad in front of him if he was a virgin.

The moment she answered in the affirmative, she was shot through the chest with a large-caliber pistol.

"Shouldn't I die?"

Silas behaves like an innocent girl, and she is not qualified at all as a police officer.

But perhaps it was this innocence that gave her a new life under Accardo,

Even if she became a pure vampire at this time, she didn't show any merits worthy of attention.

Perhaps beauty counts as one.

"Acardo, guys from SHIELD are here, saying they want to use our power to eliminate vampires."

Integra crossed his right arm and spoke in a cold tone.

It is not difficult to hear her ridicule from her words.

SHIELD's style of always wanting to control everything has long made various organizations around the world dissatisfied.

Helsing is no exception.

"I obey your orders, Master."

Accardo left Silas, who was still in a daze, and spoke to Integra.

The relationship between him and Integura is somewhat subtle, and neither of the two people involved can define it.

Accardo smiled brightly, took off his blood-red hat, placed it on his chest, and bent down to salute.

Several red eyes opened in the shadows on the ground, making the room feel much colder in an instant.

"Deal with the things around you first. Those guys are not worth investing too much energy in. I will mobilize you only if necessary."

Integra turned around, she did not intend to get too involved in Accardo's training of his "daughter".

She could completely trust Accardo, and this trip was just to find someone to relieve her inner emotions.

Vampire events have become more frequent in the UK recently, and Tegula has felt a bit of pressure.

As Helsing's neighbor, she would not rashly intervene in SHIELD's battle.

In other words, she hopes that SHIELD can learn to respect other existences through constant losses. Only respect is the beginning of cooperation.

Coulson's arrival is just the first step in respect, and Nick Fury's respect is never easy to enjoy.

Helsing will not stand idly by, but help will be valuable only when it is truly necessary.

Accardo watched Integra leave with a smile, and then a flash of red light flashed in his eyes.

Silas, who was still groping for the wounds on her body, felt a sudden inspiration, and she felt that she was about to know something terrible.

…

"This place is very abnormal. This door that I can't kick open no matter what, and the car covered with blood.

Even the faint stench coming from this place reminds me to be careful.

Evil is everywhere, and danger can come at any time.

That stench is not the smell of rotting corpses, but it always makes me feel the existence of evil. This contradictory feeling even makes me a little dazed.

I don't understand why this is happening, or maybe there is something being covered up here, but I haven't seen the truth yet."

The homeless man sitting on the bench curled up and wrote carefully in a brown notebook.

There is a big difference between his performance and that of a normal homeless man, but the wooden sign makes these differences less noticeable.

The guy who advocates the doomsday theory is more or less cerebral palsy. How can humans know the trajectory of fate?

Even if someone can really predict the future, those people will not expose themselves.

His body is squeezed in front of him like a curled up, his legs stepping on the stool, his knees blocking the notebook, making the writing action less noticeable.

He saw the agents observing from a distance at the beginning, so he made himself behave more like an ordinary homeless man.

The word "behave" may be a bit problematic, he is a homeless man himself, just not so normal.

So it is not worth noting that a homeless man tried to break into the door and find some chances to survive.

But he couldn't kick the door open.

This blacksmith shop made him feel like he was guided at first, but this feeling shifted with the departure of Bulkatho.

He instantly understood that the feeling that attracted him came from Bulkatho.

On the first day of the long observation, the target was determined.

The homeless man scanned the surrounding environment again, and then walked in the direction he came from with the wooden sign that read "The End of the World" like graffiti.

He carefully avoided the sight of the agents not far away and made himself act like a normal homeless man.

But his steps were a little nervous.

He was just an ordinary human being. Although he had some skills, he couldn't ignore the danger.

Being cautious and concealed was his way of survival.

The ground at the door of the blacksmith shop made him particularly uneasy and even angry.

He was always angry, but more often than not, he was born out of anger with sadness.

Now he was going to follow that attraction to find Bul-Kathos.

He felt that his recent changes could be answered by Bul-Kathos.

Even though he didn't know Bul-Kathos's name yet, he didn't know what Bul-Kathos represented.

But "never compromise", wasn't it?

Nothing could stop him except death.