Chapter 227 The Four Apostles

"Fuck, Sheikh, if the support you said doesn't come, we'll all die here." John shouted. Although he knew that this would hurt morale, the front building had been breached. If there was no other support, it was only a matter of time before these people died.

The poet used his last magic power to cast a spell and repelled an earthworm monster that attacked him. The thing was cut into two pieces, but after twitching on the ground for a while, it revived and turned into two new monsters.

"Ah, that's great, buy one get one free." The poet exclaimed, "John, I'm in trouble here, mind freeing up your hands to help?"

John dodged the attack while shooting several magic counterattacks. He hurriedly confirmed the poet's situation, took out a magic wand from his arms and threw it over.

The magic wand cracked in the air, and the cold wind instantly froze the earthworm in place.

The poet shouted gratefully, "Thank you, friend."

"Leave here, Reko." John said, "The defense line can't hold for much longer, we have to go."

"Where to go?" The poet turned his head and looked behind him, there were monsters there too. "The front and back roads are blocked."

John rolled on the ground in embarrassment, "Then I hope Sheikh can conjure a secret passage." As soon as the voice fell, a huge mouth appeared in front of John. He didn't notice the amorphous monster hiding in the wall.

At the critical moment, a long spear broke through the air and directly penetrated the mouth, and also pierced through several monsters behind.

"The party started early?"

The poet heard a rough voice in his ears, and then a tall, muscular man walked past him.

He looked at the person in confusion, and then looked behind him. The monster behind him had now become a pile of minced meat and corpses.

"Hey, wizard, aren't you going to evacuate? The road behind is safe." The speaker was a man with light golden hair, who winked at the poet.

"Have the support arrived?" Reco asked in confusion, and two more people passed by him.

John also looked at the few people in confusion. One of them was wearing a monk's robe, which represented the identity of the person coming.

The four people quickly joined the battlefield, and the originally one-sided situation suddenly turned around. The monsters were as fragile as paper in front of these four people.

"You are late!" Sheikh complained after escaping from the predicament, "Our agreement is not like this."

"Don't be angry, Mr. Mendes. We encountered some trouble on the way here." The man in the monk's robe stepped forward and explained, and he took out a large golden cup from his robe.

Sheikh looked down and saw that it was full of the so-called God's Blessing of the Demon Feast Cult, just like the one in his glass vessel.

"You killed a lot of them."

"We killed them all the way." The blond man interrupted, and the large-caliber revolver in his hand blew off the head of a monster, and then he took out another gun like a magic trick.

The shape of the gun was very strange, and the outside of the gun was covered with brass gears. As the gears turned rapidly, the bullets shot out of the barrel, and its power was even more powerful than that revolver.

Sheikh did not stop, but took his men who were still able to move to organize rescue. John and the poet gave up the plan to evacuate and went forward to help.

"Who are those guys?" John asked Sheikh.

"Apostles." Sheikh said, "Or it would be more appropriate to call them witch hunters. They are all Nathanael's men, and they are the strongest fighting force of the church."

Thinking of Nathanael's strange behavior, and looking at the strong man who was shooting wildly with a heavy machine gun, John suddenly figured it out.

Reco opened a corpse and saw Mark, who was dying. "Here, there is another one alive here." He shouted.

The wizard closest to him immediately trotted over, along with the sword-carrying man from the four church members.

In this era, it was quite novel that there were still people wearing swords, but when the poet thought about the things and people he had encountered along the way, he let it go.

"Come, lift him out together." Lei Ke signaled the wizard to help, but the wizard was stopped by the sword-carrying man.

"He is hopeless." The man said, and drew a long sword from his waist.

"Wait!" Lei Ke stretched out his hand to stop him, but the sword was so fast that it pierced Mark's heart as soon as he stretched out his hand.

Then, under Lei Ke's shocked expression, the man drew out the long sword indifferently.

Everything happened too quickly, and Sheikh reacted and cursed, "Fuck you, what did you do?"

He was about to go forward to argue with the man, but his hand was pulled by the monk in the robe. The monk raised his head, and John saw that his eyes were dim.

He couldn't see. John thought.

"He's contaminated, George just did what he should do." The monk said calmly.

"I fucking know he's contaminated." Sheikh said with his eyes wide open, "But it's not your turn to end his life."

George retracted his sword, not paying any attention to the angry Sheikh. He turned his head and looked out the window and said, "I'll go find the commander."

"Go, damn it, I'm out of ammunition." The burly man replied, "Hey, Danny, help me get my spear back."

The blond man waved his hand and agreed readily, "Of course, my friend."

Reco noticed that the man was speaking French. George? Danny? Coincidence? The poet pondered in his mind, and finally gave up thinking further.

"A bunch of lunatics." Sheikh cursed and walked towards his right-hand man, "Do a favor, he deserves a funeral."

"Mr. Mendes, I want to remind you..."

"After cremation!" Sheikh emphasized.

John, the poet and Sheikh carried Mark's body to the school building. They cleared out several classrooms to pile up the body.

After putting down Mark's body, John took out the wine pot and drank a sip. The long battle with the dream thing made him physically and mentally exhausted. His spirit was constantly being impacted. It was a test to cast spells continuously in this situation.

He looked at the poet and then at Sheikh. The situation of these two people was much better than his, which made him puzzled.

"Reko, how do you feel?" he asked.

"Very bad. I just experienced a life-and-death battle. This emotion can make me write a poem, well, or maybe two."

"That's not what I mean, but..." John tapped his brain with his finger.

"Oh, you mean this?" The poet finally responded, "I studied mysticism at Miskatonic University in Arkham, and there is a way to temporarily close my brain.

"In this way, the pollution of dreams can be reduced. Of course, this is not some kind of brain closure technique, you know, the brain..."

"Enough, enough." John waved his hand and turned to look at Sheikh.

The latter prepared a death prayer for his deputy, "May Avalon guide your path, my friend." He finished the last sentence of the prayer, then stood up and took out a bottle of black potion from his pocket and threw it to John.

"Drink it, it will make you feel better." Sheikh said.

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