Jessica Jones's physical condition was very bad at this time. There were already a lot of wounds on her body, and her coat was torn into a puddle of rags by the zombies.
The numerous wounds made her look like a character from a horror movie.
A few hazy rays of light penetrated the dark lower labyrinth, and the hand ax left several marks on the wall during the constant fighting.
And the light has arrived, but it is not a symbol of hope.
Now she had no retreat, with the hard wall behind her. She had walked through every corner of the maze. The corpses on the ground were also spread over every inch of the maze.
Now there is only one way left to go.
Jessica's attack gave the airtight maze a ventilated place, but this supplement of air was not of much help to her tired body.
At most, it calmed her down a bit.
There was still a dense group of zombies in front of her, but she could already see the end of the team.
But the number of zombies in front of her still made her despair.
The ground was covered with disgusting corpses, and Jessica Jones felt a strong sense of panic mixed with the stench, as if she was being manipulated to attack innocent people.
The iron fist that was unable to stop her broke her heart.
Her feet were covered in sticky paste, and every move seemed to consume all her strength.
At this moment, she finally realized the despair the attacker felt before facing death.
He waved his hand a little weakly, exposing his arm bones, and the ax in his palm also had some small cracks.
"Is this what it feels like?"
Jessica said in a weak voice, too much flesh and blood was torn off from her body under the attack of the zombies.
The legs had lost a lot of weight and were covered with uneven bite marks, like a roasted leg of lamb that had been chewed by mistake. The fibers of the meat bounced around, making it a little disgusting.
The pelvis can already be seen from the buttocks, and the rest of the meat has been scattered on the ground along with the fallen zombies.
Even a piece of long hair had fallen off a lot from her head at this time. It was pulled off by the zombies along with part of her scalp.
At this time, she looked like she had alopecia areata.
"come!"
Jessica yelled at the walking corpses that were approaching in front of her. It was a little difficult for those guys to move on the corpses of the same kind.
From time to time, he would fall to the ground and be crushed to pieces by the guys behind him, turning into corpses.
There are still many walking corpses.
Jessica swung the ax in her hand hard, but she lost her forearm muscles and let the weapon fall away!
On the holy mountain of Harrogath, Luke was absentmindedly dealing with Madoc's training, his eyes fixed on the projection above his head.
Jessica's miserable situation fell in his eyes, making his body tense.
Madoc just looked at him without saying a word, as if he didn't intend to remind him to focus on training.
"Ancestor Madoc, does she still have a chance to come out alive?"
Luke's small voice was almost lost in the wind.
"I don't know, and neither does Orak. Now only she knows whether she can come out or not."
Madoc wanted to hand Luke a bottle of wine, but there were no more treasures in this place that he knew of.
"You never say such convoluted words, so she is going to die?"
A smile appeared on Luke's face, and he said in despair.
And Bruce Wayne, who was observing everything on the Holy Mountain, also became nervous. Life should not pass by easily.
He is struggling.
On the mountain peak not far away, Orak sat cross-legged on the ground, and a cow leg was slowly roasting in the fire in front of him.
Orak didn't like Jessica Jones as the heir, even though it was entrusted to him by Bulcasso.
Just watching a life gradually pass away in a secret realm will make this God of War feel lost.
“Do sinners deserve to live?”
Orac always said this sentence, and he never quite understood this issue.
Especially after he died, he had a long time to think about this problem, but as he thought about it, he became more and more confused.
"What level of sinner is he? The kind who actively commits evil deeds and deserves to die? Or the kind who has to commit himself to darkness in order to survive?"
Banal looked at Orak in front of him with red eyes.
"Come on, Orak! People have to die. No matter why? You have never done any evil, so you still die? And the death is very miserable. Do you think you deserve to die?
"
Banal opened his mouth, revealing a mouth of teeth that were a bit too sharp.
His dark red beard undulated as he spoke.
"Trials are always like this. Those recruits also died in my secret realm, but I have never been lost."
Orak did not turn around to look at Banal behind him, but lowered his head to make his body look smaller.
"I really don't understand why you keep nagging about what has happened? Aren't you on good terms with fate? He hasn't taught you to adapt yet?"
Banal pulled out a pair of machetes and waved them around randomly.
"Destiny always observes silently and never changes."
Orak spoke quietly as if he was paraphrasing someone else's words.
These are the words of Israel, the Archangel of Fate and Balance.
Israel always stands in a neutral position and tries to find solutions to problems.
But he is not involved in change and rarely 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, then what's the point of everything he says?
If everything he said was destined, then it would be meaningless.
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 is just seeking 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 Blade in one hand and guided the two knives to the ground beside him.
"I won't 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 recruits who wanted to be his heirs at that time, 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 has long been accustomed to the two of them, and it happens every time someone is about to die in Orac's trial.
This conversation has been going on for hundreds of years.
To be continued...