"Is it planning to commit suicide by slashing its wrists?"
Beyond the crisscrossing spell light, a mocking laugh from a hunting team could be heard, but no one took such words seriously. Any wizard with a little knowledge of black magic knew the close connection between blood and curses.
For a moment, everyone was on high alert, staring intently at the slashed wrists, the blood flowing from the intersecting wounds, and every subtle movement of Walter's raised hand.
"In the long wait, the pain first disappears, and then reappears..."
Hundreds of crimson eyeballs opened and closed uncertainly, exuding a chilling glow. The black wizard's gray-white long hair spread down, writhing like long snakes extending into the void. Under the night sky, which covered nearly half the battlefield, came the cold and sharp chant of the old man:
"... We open our eyes wide, wipe away the tears
And then see the truth..."
