Chapter 177: 177 [3-34] Bright anger covers the sky.

Everyone who was there was flung away, rolled like a piece of wood, and some were slammed against the wall.

The miasma storm was raging, sometimes reddish-black, sometimes black with the purple color of the night.

The demons are beings distorted by the evil gods through the medium of evil spirits. In other words, they have an affinity for evil spirits.

So how does the evil air affect those who are not demons? Basically, it is poisonous.

If they are affected by the evil spirits, the mechanism of life will be upset.

Just being in a space with a high concentration of evil air is harmful to humans, but the poisonous air that is more aggressive and is designed to actively cause harm is called "miasma.

The elves vomited blood one after another as they were tossed about by the raging miasma.

The vampire was standing in the center of the miasma storm.

Blood spurted from his reddened eyes and from the wounds on his arms and belly, creating a noxious miasma.

Her furry black hair and maid's uniform were fluttering in the wind.

She was laughing.

Even though her voice was drowned out by the storm, she was definitely laughing like a roar.

She was laughing as if she was celebrating this moment.

The crowd of Projections disappeared into the miasma like smoke blown by the wind.

They were not holy air, but they had been formed as "anti-evil air," and the evil air they had been exposed to had cancelled them out, making it impossible for them to retain their forms.

The miasma continued to increase in pressure, and of course it did not stay in the cave.

It became a raging wind that blew out, permeating everything around it.

I'll be back.

The magic-savvy elves noticed the change at the same time as the birds and insects.

There is no way to describe the feeling of excitement in my heart.

Fear, pain, and a sense of doom, as if a knife were being plunged into their hearts right now.

The moment I thought I heard a sickening sound from the sacred tree, the miasma came out of it.

The purple of the night shaded the calm and clear sky, blotting out the sunlight through the trees.

Birds and insects flew away at once, as if driven by the miasma, and not a few of them immediately ran out of energy and crashed due to the miasma.

The nourishing soil turned into a bubbling sludge with a slimy consistency reminiscent of the internal organs of the human body, with the Great Spirit Tree at the center.

The unfortunate elves in the vicinity collapsed before they could feel the danger.

The trees, half exposed to the miasma-laden winds, began to fade and lose their leaves as if they had withered.

But the trees that had been directly hit .

And the Great Spirit Tree, the center of the blast, was not done with it.

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The forest was screaming. It was the sound of creaking and twisting trees.

The trees, which had once been orderly and harmonious, were changing their shape from the edges.

They were twisting and turning, turning black, black, black, black, black, black, black, black, black, black, black, black, black. It was a precious color that the followers of the evil gods called "new moon color.

The Great Spirit Tree spewed out a storm of miasma from the caves at its base and from the gashes that had opened up all over its trunk. It was like the smoke rising from the chimneys of a forge in a human city.

The thick ivy that had wrapped itself around the pathway like a spiral staircase dripped red juice like fresh blood, and grew rapidly, branching out in an absurd manner and entangling the Great Spirit Tree. It's as if it's sucking up evil nutrients from somewhere.

It was certainly horrifying to look at, but it wasn't limited to outward changes.

The blackened, deformed trees had been altered in some essential way.

The order of chaos laid down by the evil gods. Part of it.

A process of pre-arranged destruction.

It had metamorphosed into a cursed forest, slumbering in the dream of an apocalypse where all things will vanish into dust.

The wind stopped.

And then the wind stopped.

In the vast cave, there are elves scattered about.

Even the ...... non-combatants are still alive. The magic had no direct killing power.

But that doesn't mean that they were safe.

"Ugh. ......

"Hahahahaha ......!

"......aahhhh ......aahhhh ......

Groaning, coughing sounds.

Some lost their eyesight, some lost their voices.

Some lost their sight, some lost their voices. The pain that tormented their entire bodies made it impossible for them to even stand up, and they could only slump in their own blood.

The pure glow that had filled the cave of the Great Spirit Tree had vanished, and now a horrible darkness filled the area heavily.

The elves knew that it was essentially poisonous to them.

But they didn't run away because they simply couldn't even move.

≪"The Seventh Possession (Guoshiera Reinael).

Retribution to the world. The cry of the oppressed.

Its absolutely contaminated realm inscribes a brand of curse on the world. The evil that has defiled heaven and earth can only be vanquished by a miracle of equal or greater magnitude, or it will haunt for a thousand and ten thousand years.

It is a magic to prove to oneself that the tragedy that befell you was a mistake that should never have happened to this world.

It was the embodiment of a single person's anger, trampled like a feather.

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