Vanguard of the Eternal Night (BL)(Complete)

Chapter 130

Tyron was amused, "You're not even speaking anymore?"

Victor flipped the sign over. The words on the back said, "The domestic cold war starts from small things."

Tyron felt that the sign became funnier the more he looked at it, and his mood inexplicably became even better. Victor continued to be cold and angry, not even concerning himself with breakfast. He sat at the table to deal with his own affairs; Tyron whistled and went into the kitchen to bake something to eat for once.

When it came to mealtime, Victor filled up a plate for himself, ran off to the furthest corner of the table, and turned away from Tyron as he ate. His entire back seemed to say, 'I don't talk to old rascals'.

Tyron looked at this back. This old rascal's inner heart was already thoroughly black, and it was unsalvageable. Instead of feeling guilty, he was very happy. He felt that Victor was very cute and wanted to bully him more.

After a while, Tyron patted Victor on the back and handed him two bandages.

Victor: "??"

Tyron: "There are two teeth marks behind your ear."

Victor couldn't feel them. After looking in the mirror, he discovered the two red dots that had been made by the old rascal's sharp teeth. It looked like he'd been bitten by a vampire.

The vampire, Lord Four, was very aggrieved, "You wanted to have a cold war with me, so I wanted to try fighting violence with violence."

Victor: "......"

Ten minutes later.

Tyron packed up and prepared to go out but noticed Victor sulking in the corner furthest from him with all his figurative fur puffed up and a cross-shaped bandage behind his ear.

Tyron knew that he should feel a little guilty, but...

However, it was a bandage--that was being used to cover up a kiss!

Ah, it was like a flag that had been placed on the highest peak after a siege; it was like the unsteady legs of a bed partner at the end of the night while they wore an oversized shirt on their body; it was like the triumph at the end of the battle, a song of conquest that could be heard along the way!

The old rascal's mood instantly maxed out! He felt that he was embarking on a new journey, and flowers were blooming at his feet!

......

Two hours later, everyone from the host to the audience all looked on as Lord Four walked briskly onto the stage.

On the public screen, the audience with penetrating insight expressed, "It definitely isn't an illusion! Lord Four's pace is at least 50% faster!"

"Who is it!? Who is impersonating our old antique!?"

While they were still in the midst of their doubt, they saw Odin lift up two fingers and greet them.

"Yeahhh--"

After a wave of deafening screams, they sat down firmly on their previous doubts, "Today's great demon king must be in a very good mood! I haven't seen him so happy even when he had won the provincial competition championship!"

"Last time he greeted us like this was last year, right? It had even made my hair white... Who else dares to do this? It's really like relying on his beauty to commit murder. Really."

"I'm begging to know what happened! I really want to know!"

These curious darlings began to anxiously ask questions while the screen to the side showed a shot of Odin's relatives and family seating area.

The angry Victor had still come to watch the match.

However, he was reluctant and wore a high collar and sunglasses. He also held a white cat that he'd gotten from who knew where--and he'd placed Tyron's temporarily unused holographic viewing device on the cat.

Victor expressionlessly petted the cat twice, then carried it to Tyron's seat beside him. He unpacked all the drinks and snacks he'd prepared and fed it to the cat.

The cat tasted them one by one, then turned her head away haughtily.

Victor was very skilled though and set about coaxing the cat.

Tyron felt that the cat was really an eyesore, especially with that pair of shiny little fangs.

As a result, when he looked back at his opponent, there was still a hint of obvious dislike in his eyes.

Today's opponent's ID was 'Green Dumpling'. He couldn't help but look towards the famous great demon king, 'Odin', across from him and wonder if he'd offended him somehow?

In fact, the commentators were also thinking about this: It really seemed that Odin didn't like Green Dumpling. After all, their styles clashed, and it was quite normal...

There were reasons for why the commentators thought this way.

The player, 'Green Dumpling' was a druid, and his rankings were quite good. His highest rank was third place in the National Championships, and even at his worst, he was stable in the top 20. From a ranking point of view, he should be firmly ranked as 'the first druid in the league', because druids were really not suited for the PVP individual competition arena. Other than him, there were basically no other outstanding druids.

However, very few people gave him this honor, because Green Dumpling's play style was quite controversial.

He was a druid who specialized in transformation, movement, and healing.

These three specializations added together meant that he had a supremely abnormal ability for self-protection, and for his opponent, it meant that they were faced with supremely disgusting guerrilla tactics.

Guerrilla tactics sounded very high and mighty, but it was really like, 'When the enemy advances, we retreat; when the enemy is settled in, we disturb them; when the enemy is tired, we attack; when the enemy retreats, we pursue'. However, this kind of competition wasn't very fun to watch. One match would often last for a dozen or several dozens of minutes, and it was endless. Every time Green Dumpling seemed to be at a disadvantage, he would immediately transform (a druid's transformation could remove most negative states), leave battle, and then run away to heal himself. It wasn't until the system would warn him about 'negative performance' that he would go back to fight again.

Over time, although Green Dumpling had continued with these tactics and almost made it to a championship trophy, the audience didn't like to watch his games, and some people even said that this wasn't really a druid. It was more 'muddling along and stealing some benefits'.

Even the commentator circle had already experienced having to deal with this kind of competition. At the moment, both commentators were holding a large cup of tea and a pack of throat lozenges in their hands. They were prepared for a long, drawn-out fight.

Then, they saw the system randomly assign a relatively rare map: Storm Temple.

This map was composed mostly of a dilapidated shrine beneath the sea.

At the start, there was no water in the temple. There were two rows of eight pillars, each holding a lamp. Additionally, the statue of the sea god in the innermost part of the temple also held a lamp, adding up to nine lights in total. As time went on, the temple would become more and more worn down, and the lights would go out from the outside in. When the lamp held by the sea god was extinguished, the temple would collapse completely, and sea water would pour in from outside, turning the map into a seafloor map--there was no breathing mechanism though, and at that time, all players on the map would lose health together until one side died.

The light-extinguishing mechanism was random, and there was a chance that a light would go out every 10 seconds. Once upon a time, the Emperor of Europe (Goddess) had created a miracle by having only four lamps go out by the 20-minute mark; there had also been an extremely unlucky team in the team competition who had set a record for having the sea water pour in and exterminate the team within less than two minutes.

Both commentators: "......"

They felt that the rainy day cult would start to chant strip, strip, strip again and pray to the rainy day dolls at any time.