The silent Arctic Snowfield, with cold winds howling.
A few hundred meters in front of a cliff, dozens of terrifying green eyes swayed.
The Ghost Demons were letting out strange, spine-chilling roars. The four individuals surrounded by them were trapped in a desperate situation.
Two were injured, and the other two exhausted, almost incapable of resistance.
Is this really the end? Is death inevitable?
Bertha fought desperately to protect Basil Jaak, even at the cost of her own injuries.
Whether she would kill Basil or not was irrelevant now; Basil might die, and so might she.
If time reversed, would I still try to kill him?
Bertha asked herself this question in her heart, but at this point, it no longer mattered.
BOOM!
The ground began to tremble. In the distance, streaks of bright light shot into the sky, followed by waves and waves of glowing radiance tumbling over the hills, emerging across the snowfield.
"Yo-yo-yo!"
"Shoo-shoo-shoo!"
