Latent Syndrome

Chapter 390 389. Top

Although dawn had broken, the nuclear winter clouds covering the world remained unabated, only to tear apart the dark curtain as the two men fought.

From the gaps in the clouds, streams of light penetrated through the gaps in the sky.

"You're such a monster."

"What on earth has kept you going for so long?"

Half of Arnold's face was burning, and the characters that traced the original pages were aching. Because they were imitations, they did not disappear, but in this blank space of time, they brought him endless pain.

"I should be the one to ask you this question."

Chainsaw's body was even more dilapidated, with the flesh and blood around his waist completely hollowed out, leaving only his somewhat distorted spine bearing his upper body covered in scars.

I don't know why, even though the chain saw was at the pinnacle of Gu refining in the entire wasteland, it couldn't easily defeat the man in front of me.

At first, Chainsaw thought he was a PT-type infected person. Later, some researchers judged that he was fundamentally different from them.

It wasn't until the wheel of fate began to turn that Chainsaw understood that he was indeed an infected person.

It's just a hint of the world.

Drawing power from the abyss of another space, the power that shattered the earth's surface erupted from Chainsaw's body.

Although the chain saw was constantly fighting for his life, Arnold never showed any ability from the beginning to the end. He always used the terrifying body of a sandbag, which was painless, unaware of life and death, and so weird that all attacks were like mud and cattle sinking into the sea, to withstand all attacks, as if with All the infected people in the world are not of the same magnitude. Just relying on the extra physical fitness of the hint, they are far superior to everyone.

And he just used a completely ordinary revolver to resolve the chain saw's attacks one by one.

Arnold was disdainful when he saw that the chain saw was still using its old tricks, extracting countless power from different dimensions.

"Don't you have any new tricks?"

"Or you've never tried to figure out the causal logic."

"You're not strong, Chainsaw."

"It's the abyssal syndrome that gives you strength. The abyss connects us all."

"Are you trying to defeat it with the products it gave you?"

Arnold remained unmoved even in the face of the oncoming devastating offensive. The steel chain saw uprooted from the depths of the ground was like a meat grinder hell. There was no way to retreat or escape. The rolling and roaring mountains and rivers were like The constant shaking of the sky thunder shattered the canyon, shook the mountains, and the noisy buzzing caused the space to begin to be deformed by the sound waves.

The rotating curtain of strangulation, as if it were used to slaughter the corpses of the Titans, blocked the beam of light in the sky gap, shrouding Arnold in darkness again.

"This is your famous skill."

“This is how we will gain a foothold in the last days.”

Arnold was unmoved. He had heard the first person in the combat directory lament that the human will is so powerful. The more you resist some people, the longer they will follow you like gangrene in their bones.

Just like humans are afraid of their creations, they are afraid of artificial intelligence. The unparalleled learning ability and a kind of computing power that is incomparable to flesh and blood make humans panic.

The abyss is also afraid of such products.

In the midst of suffering and madness, the person whose willpower rivals the gods is the ultimate madman.

"The extraordinary man who fought his way from the wasteland to the top."

"Let me take a look at your measurements."

The violent sea of ​​strangulation was like a huge wave, marching towards Arnold like the march of death on the ground.

Arnold had to act a little more serious. He took off his fedora hat, revealing his thick medium-length curly hair, a somewhat wrinkled forehead, and his plain, strangely captivating golden eyes.

His hint is the most common, ordinary, and even the most useless hint in the Tarot card power system used by scholars in the underground world.

All of them, without exception, have this hint. No matter how tough their minds are, they cannot break through the shackles of their essence. C-level infected people who meet the standards of the Countermeasures Bureau are already at their limit.

But Arnold arrived anyway, surpassing all the infected people on the combat catalog, surpassing Hugo, White, and Ogu, Heinrich, these terrifying and extraordinary people.

He also surpassed Luka and surpassed Hagi, standing at the top of the entire pyramid of infected people.

control.

The messenger of God holds the material Holy Grail in his left hand and the spiritual Holy Grail in his right hand. He keeps pouring water from the Holy Grail to each other, trying to find a balance point.

Arnold has found it.

Integrate the entire ancient history of mankind into yourself, and plunge into the infinitely violent future, and then into countless present.

Formless and formless.

Through destiny.

Annihilation of reality.

Embodied fantasy.

The strongest infected person, bar none.

Click...

The crisp sound of the revolver turning, bang.

After everything ended, in an instant, the sky was shattered, revealing the magnificent stars in the sky that had gathered together due to the abyss.

There is no sound, no sound and no form, just as far as thoughts can reach.

balanced.

All things return.

No one can resist the entire ancient history and its final outcome.

In this eternal carnival, he can die a happy death.

Chainsaw vomited blood in his mouth and fell to his knees with a plop. The blazing sun that had not been seen all year round burned on the top of his head, and his already dilapidated upper body was dripping with blood.

But he couldn't hear anything anymore, only the endless tinnitus in his ears, and the man walking slowly in the wind and sand on the Gobi desert, wearing a cracked leather windbreaker, the hem of his clothes swaying in the wild sand.

Perhaps Arnold's presence proves a point.

No spirit is lacking and pale.

There are only pale and feeble people.

Or perhaps it proves the inevitable return of all things.

No one knows why he is so powerful. They can only find a balance between false speculations and terrifying cruel reality.

"SCT's winning percentage."

"It seems that it has increased from 99% to 99.3%."

"Do you have any last words?"

The haze of nuclear winter once again enveloped the sky. In order to let the chain saw hear him, Arnold grabbed the back of his neck and tore off his spine. He only lifted half of his body with his head, more than two meters away from him. The magnificent height hovers at a height.

There was some unwillingness in Chainsaw's dying eyes, amidst the torrent of fate.

"It turns out that I only have a value of 0.3%."

"What is the remaining 0.7%?"

Chainsaw asked his last question. He couldn't even spit blood out of his mouth. His mouth was dry and cracked, and his eyes gradually lost focus.

Even the world.

A strict world that is completely full of reason and order cannot resist the so-called return of all things.

For those who are about to die.

Arnold answered his question without hesitation.

"Corresponding to two people respectively."

"As for the final remainder."

"I personally believe in fate."

Arnold stopped talking and pulled the cocking hammer of the revolver.

At this time a voice came.

He had already gone through the sacrifice and knew all the correct steps.

Human beings have unlimited potential.

When he made sacrifices endlessly, even if the infinity was consumed, he only knew the correct steps in the end.

"And I personally think that statistics and probability are useless knowledge created by useless people."

"I don't believe the world is pseudo-random."

"There are only two possibilities."

"Fifty percent."

"Either all the losers get their way, or I send all you freaks on the road."

While the hunched man spoke, Arnold fired.

But under the influence of force.

The revolver jammed miraculously. A revolver would never jam, but the device that allowed the magazine runner to rotate had strange wear and tear.