The crown on top of his head was extremely dull, as though it had been completely corroded by the oxidation of the air. It was impossible to tell what material it was made of. It was shaped like thorns, with countless thorns extending upwards, but it was not messy at all.
A red cloak of an unknown era was draped over his body. The color was distorted, and the edges of the cloak were like rags. It was obvious that the cloak had followed its owner for many years, but it was so tattered because it dragged the floor all year round.
He wore a gorgeous breastplate, but it looked gray under the dim light from the top. The patterns on it were no longer visible, and the armor was covered with scars of all sizes. There were pits made by blunt weapons, and marks made by sharp weapons. In the battles of the Empire, having such scars on one's armor meant that the warrior was brave and extraordinary. If there were no scars on one's body after a battle, one would be laughed at by the other warriors … Obviously, this person sitting on the throne was once a powerful and heroic warrior.
On the most obvious spot on his chest, there was a Chinese redbud ornament.
The dagger in his hand seemed to have been held for a long time, so long that it seemed to have become one with his palm.
The armor that covered his entire body was not very nice. Although there was no dust, the rust on it made the armor look very old. The boots on his feet had already rotted, and even the toes were hilariously exposed. But the toes were segmented bones, and the skin on them had long disappeared.
Leoric, an elder of the Undead Council, a terrifying existence that had once almost overturned the world.
Now, he once again sat up straight from his throne, and sent out a silent mental wave to those old fellows who were somewhere on the continent.
The red light was not dazzling, and it flickered in Leoric's eye sockets. His face looked like a skull, but there was still some flesh on it, which made him look like a thin old man. But the aura he exuded was not thin at all.
Even if the armor on his body looked tattered, even if the crown on his head was dim, no one could ignore its existence as he sat there quietly. It was a feeling that was hard to understand. But if someone really met his red eyes that seemed to be as calm as an ancient well, they would definitely think so!
This feeling was like standing alone on the battlefield, facing the charge of an entire cavalry regiment alone. The sharpness of the attack was simply unbearable.
His decayed skin did not sag like Saville's. Instead, it was tight. His eyebrows were thin and white, but his once handsome face could still be vaguely seen — even if his face now looked terrifying.
His eye sockets were not hollow like Eccleston's. On the contrary, Leoric's eyelids could still function normally. When he blinked, the red light in his eyes was restrained and deep, but at the same time, it was full of endless hostility.
Slaughter, blood.
That red light contained too many past, as well as those countless stories, whether great or despicable.
"The game has begun …"
His voice echoed in the stone chamber in a low voice, but the entire island trembled silently at this moment, as if a suffocating pressure had enveloped the earth in an instant.
※ ※ ※
Many opened his eyes abruptly.
The starry sky was still reflected in his eyes as always. The beautiful Milky Way was like a ribbon, and it looked strangely psychedelic.
But in the next second, Many's eyes immediately turned to both sides.
Carolina's beautiful face entered Many's field of vision. There seemed to be faint traces of tears on her face, and the corners of her mouth were still twitching. Seeing Many's movements, she did not cry out. Instead, she wiped the corners of her eyes and put her hand on Many's forehead. She used her mental strength to test his physical recovery, and then breathed a sigh of relief.
But she did not ask anything, which made Many feel a little strange.
"Lainie …?
I … "Almost at the same time, Many thought of the big guy, Gruul, who carried him out of danger, and the Caucasian troll who almost killed him!
— The question is, where did they go?
He looked around. There was a bonfire burning next to him, and Kuzkaz was throwing firewood into it. Seeing Many, he nodded and said as usual, "Good evening, the guy who escaped death."
"Guy" was a word for closeness in the troll language, similar to "brother," which showed that Kuzkaz's attitude toward him was very friendly.
Many did not rush to answer him, and his eyes were still looking around —
"If you're looking for that big guy with a lisp, he's gone hunting," Kuzkatz replied to himself as he stared at the bonfire in front of him. "Babak bless him to know what a 'prey' is."
"Hunting?"
Many froze. Gruul is okay?
What about the other troll?
Before he could sort out his thoughts, Many felt something leaning on his shoulder — needless to say, this warm and soft feeling must be Carolina.
"I'm sorry …"
For some reason, the Red Dragon Royal Highness opened his mouth and apologized.
"Why did you say that?"
Many was a little stunned, and he did not know what he had done. He felt as if he had lost some memory.
Carolina wanted to say something, but the words did not come out of her mouth. In the end, she just stared at Many's chest, sighed, and remained silent.
Many followed her gaze and looked down, only to find that the leather armor on their chests had split open in the middle. Speaking of which, it seemed to be the work of the Caucasian Troll.
By the way, where is the troll?
He raised his head and looked to the side. Carolina seemed to know what he was thinking and whispered, "I took care of it."
"Oh."
Many did not know what to say. He could see that Carolina was not in a good mood. In the face of this kind of situation, he always did not know how to comfort a woman, especially when the other party was not willing to talk to him. In terms of feelings, Many did not seem to have made any progress.
Of course, how to deal with this feeling was a big problem.
Many panted, and the feeling of weakness was still there, but it was much better in comparison. He was about to stand up, but he found that Carolina handed him something.
It was a fake leg, and it looked like it had just been made.
"Thank you."
Many politely took it and placed it on the broken leg, so that it was much more convenient for him to stand up — but this polite words still made Carolina pout slightly. After all, the place was different, and the dragons were not used to this kind of politeness.