Bab 388: Head Cultist!

Blood swirling all over, cries of disbelief, tiny yelps from players realizing they've wetted themselves…the scene was chaotic!

Blood tornadoes. 

Yes, blood motherfucking tornadoes. 

All of the blood previously sacrificed was now rising in the air, the whole thing looking (and feeling) like the revival cinematic of an evil god.

At that moment, the Head Cultist's laughter resounded as he towered atop the corpses and the destroyed buildings. 

"Get wrecked!" 

The madman lowered a red-glowing fist, the same color as his eyes, and the entire spell came crashing down along with the motion. 

1. Run? Impossible 

2. Defend? What a joke 

3. Destroy it? No damn way! 

4. Error 404, countermeasure missing 

It fell straight toward Gargan.