Silent Crown Chapter 833: Funeral (2)

I dreamed of a beautiful scene for the first time.

It's like a fairy tale.

Amidst the layers of halo, he saw that the white-haired young man lowered his head and smiled and put a ring on the girl, dispelling misfortune and suffering.

That looks... so happy as if I can get free.

Then, the dream woke up.

Charles opened his eyes and heard the kettle boiling, and the firewood in the stove crackled.

Someone is sitting in front of the stove with their backs to him, watching the fire.

"Morning?"

Charle raised his head blankly.

"No, it's midnight."

The man in front of the stove picked up the kettle, got up, grabbed a large handful of broken pieces from the tea pot on the table, and threw it into the broken iron pot.

Boiling hot water was poured into the broken iron pot, the crumbs were surging, and the color became faint.

After shaking it a few times, the not fragrant tea soup was poured into two broken wooden cups and placed on the head of the bed.

It's like being in your own home.

Paganini dragged a broken chair and sat in front of Shire.

"I'm sorry, I disturbed your dream." Although he said sorry, there was no apology on his face, just a palpable peace.

"What's the matter?" Charles was blank, "Suddenly..."

The conversation was interrupted, and Paganini held up the teacup: "Drink tea?"

"Ah, thank you."

Charle took the teacup subconsciously.

He lowered his head and sniffed it. It still smelled like rotten tea leaves, but the water temperature was just right, not at all like it had just been boiling.

The cheap scraps float in the hot water, rising upwards or sinking downwards.

For a moment, in a trance, the turbid dark red seemed to turn into a flame, soaring and spreading on the ground, suddenly rising and disappearing.

A phantom flashed from the teacup, the burning earth and buildings flashed away, and the flames flooded the corpses and bones.

With the whine of deja vu.

There are children crying.

Slap!

Charle's hands trembled, and the teacup fell to the ground.

The tea soup was spilled, and the unrealistic illusion disappeared.

Charle was stunned.

Paganini's eyes drooped, as if he hadn't seen anything, deaf, just drank a sip of tea as usual, and then put the teacup back on the table.

The look in Shire's eyes became disappointed and complicated.

"No matter how you think about it, I can't understand why the gods love someone like you?"

"Sorry."

Charle awkwardly picked up the teacup tumbling on the ground.

"No need to apologize, this is not a mistake, no, for you...maybe it is."

Paganini took the tea cup from Charles's hand and looked down at the tea at the bottom of the cup, as if he was a fortuneteller. Through the remaining shape of the tea dregs, he could see the future.

"Let's go, Charles."

He lowered his head and suddenly said: "The tea has been drunk, you should go, walk from the back of the village, someone by the river will pick you up and take you to Anglu."

In the silence.

Charl suddenly felt a deep pain coming from his skull sticking out.

Suddenly come, and suddenly go.

Only the phantom pain that remains after a thread of steel wire is passed through.

He subconsciously pressed his forehead, and again heard the screams from afar, the cry of children, the sound of burning, the sound of the ground breaking...

But those sounds quickly disappeared again.

No, they haven't happened at all.

But the line of phantom pain spread, spreading in the spinal cord, making Shire suddenly feel cold, as if being plunged into a glacier.

The cold current washes away, bringing the roar of iceberg collision.

The intricate thoughts were suddenly cut off.

Paganini has given enough hints.

The idea flashed by.

He has suddenly realized.

"Is that so?"

Charle raised his head and looked at him blankly, "Mr. Constantine, is he... finally ready to kill me?"

The corners of his mouth twitched.

I smiled as if trying to laugh at myself, but his expression was ugly.

No matter what, I can’t laugh.

"Can you tell me...why?"

"Will you ask such a stupid question now, Charles?"

Paganini looked at him pityingly: "From beginning to end, Constantine is just a phantom in your eyes. Your eyes can see all the truth, but why can't you see the essence of man?

He is that kind of person, he is full of things he can't ask for, he has a lot of obsessions, and he has a lot of sins. He will kill anyone who gets in the way.

Charle, you are in the way. "

"Sorry."

Charle lowered his head and apologized, as if he was used to it, "Sorry, I just want..."

"You just want to get off the altar, don't you?"

Paganini interrupted his words: "You want to change the world and follow your own mind-no, anyone would think that way, but you alone, it is so easy to change... you will destroy All the hard work of Gaius.

This is easy for you. "

In the silence, there was a sharp whistle in the distance.

"You should go now."

Paganini repeated it a second time, urging blankly.

Charle looked at him desperately.

It seems that I can't understand him.

Paganini frowned, finally, sighed helplessly, and then stretched out his hand... He moved quickly, like electricity, and slapped it in the face.

Slap!

Then another one.

The eye mask was knocked down, revealing the empty eye sockets, the wounds in the eye sockets cracked, and a trace of blood dripped from the cheeks.

The remaining eye finally lifted up and looked at him.

The eyes are empty.

Like another eye.

"It's really shameful, don't you even have the backbone of a musician."

Paganini retracted his palm in disgust and threw a box into his arms: "Take your things and get out! Don't let me say it again!"

The box was opened during the tumbling, revealing a gap, and a pure glow spread out like water.

Inside is a sealed eye. The eyeball seems to be heterogeneous, turning into a crystal, and countless reflections are refracted on the crystal, as if it contains all the secrets and power.

Those are Charles's eyes.

The power of God is sealed here.

Unique in the world.

"Why help me?"

Charle asked softly, "If I die, won't you get what you want?"

"Don't take yourself too seriously, Charles."

Paganini glanced at him indifferently: "I want to see the death of a god, not yours."

"——You are too far behind."

Charles froze, and quickly shook his eyes and laughed bitterly.

"Yeah, being an ordinary person is such a failure... What kind of world do you want to change by dreaming?"

He put on his shoes and coat.

Bloated and ugly, like a ball.

I put on my hat.

Push the door open.

Finally, look back and say goodbye:

"Goodbye."

"No, goodbye."

Paganini turned his back to him, and his voice was cold: "When you come to Anglo, give up those unrealistic dreams. Just be an ordinary person and grow old with mediocrity. That's more suitable for you."

The sound of footsteps is gone.

Stumbled.

It is snowing in the sky, and when stepping on the snowy ground, the thick voice gradually fades away.

He did not stay after all.

Disappointing.

But it seems there is nothing wrong with it.

So, just like that, live as an ineffective human being for the rest of your life.

This is the only thing you can accomplish.

Paganini closed his eyes.

The fire went out in the cold wind outside the door.

"I did something indifferent, Paganini." Jiukan Chinese website first published

The wolf flute leaned on the door frame and lowered his head to smoke a cigarette: "What's wrong, has my conscience discovered it?"

"This is probably obsessive-compulsive disorder as a musician."

Paganini's voice was calm, "I just thought that instead of being unable to complete it, it would be better to destroy him completely."

If only Charles could really become a god.

It's not that he didn't think about this idea.

But if the gods that you have pursued for a lifetime are such ridiculous things, it's better to destroy them?

Having that kind of power is definitely not a good thing for humans.

Let Shire completely disappointed in the power of the gods.

Refusing to be such a thing...

From the embryonic form of a **** to a mediocre ordinary person.

"The flesh and blood cannot bear the kingdom of God, the mortal cannot bear the immortal——"

Paganini recites the scriptures from the holy scriptures, eyes drooping:

"I don't deserve it, neither is he."

So, let him die anywhere as an ordinary person.

If there is fate, this is the most merciful end to him.

In the silence, the wolf flute who failed the mission did not catch up, nor did it become angry with Paganini.

Just bowed his head and trampled the cigarette out.

"It would be great if so."

He said, "It's a pity..."

-

-

The village is quiet late at night.

There is no sound.

Only the sound of footsteps echoed in the snow.

It looks like mud feet are sinking deep.

Charle tried to run, staggered, and finally fell into the snow, crawling forward hurriedly, looking back behind him.

Behind is empty.

No one is chasing.

There seemed to be a roaring sound from a distance, but he couldn't hear clearly.

Only he was gasping.

Obviously such a short distance, but so tired, so tired that he fell into the melting snow, and didn't want to get up again.

Maybe that's it, just sleep like this.

Dead quietly.

It won't hurt.

But hallucination-like pain spread in the skull, dispelling sleepiness, urging him to get up, forward, continue running, fall, get up, and run again.

Stagger, stagger, stagger, stagger.

The melting snow took away the body temperature, and the icy hallucinations spread in his mind, showing him the burning earth, the snow melted, and flames filled the village.

Everything is burning.

Children cry in the fire, just like adults.

Soon, they are all dead.

Because of myself.

Because of myself...

He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and roared hoarsely, dispelling those **** hallucinations, and continued to run forward. Finally, he got down on the ground by the muffled noise coming from behind his head.

Fell to the ground.

Someone grabbed his hair, pressed him to the ground rudely, and laughed excitedly: "I caught you!"

"Good luck, you can catch a big fish with a single pee." The person who left the team grinned, showing yellow teeth, and shouted into the distance: "Hey! Come here, he is here! I am! Catch him!"

He took off his gloves and stiffly took off the rope around his waist with his fingers, trying to tie Shire, but he heard the sound of the man stepped in the mud.

"Why..."

It's the Shire.

He lowered his head, buried his head in the snow mud, but couldn't help but choked in a low voice: "Why..."

He shed tears and snot cowardly, and wanted to cry, but he felt anxious in his lungs like swallowing charcoal, and it was difficult to breathe.

The pain spreads in the internal organs.

It was anger, urging him to struggle, twisting his body frantically, even if his arm broke. He got up from the ground, and then threw the man down to the ground with all his might.

Like a child fighting, grabbing a stone groped from the snow, and smashing that person's face hard.

"Tell me--"

He roared and screamed, but he could only make a sharp and distorted voice, like crying: "What did I do wrong! What did I do wrong!"

"Who will tell me why?"

"Why do I have to die!"

He snarled, his hideous expression covered in snot and tears, and became funny.

The astonished face was shattered, hit by a rock, twisted, and one eye came out of the broken eye socket, and then it was smashed into mud again.

"I just want to make this world better..."

Charles choked, hard to suppress his sorrow: "I'm just...I'm just...I want to save you!"

The blood-stained stone fell on the ground.

That person is silent anymore.

There was a fire light in the distance, and the sound of shouting was approaching. A few people faintly ran towards here, and the signal arrow rose up into the sky~IndoMTL.com~ Then, it burst into a hot light, slowly from the air fall.

The light illuminates Shire's face.

He got up from the ground, ran numbly, got into the woods, fell, and climbed up again, as if he didn't feel any pain.

Run in the direction of the ferry.

At least get out of here.

"Go here! Here!"

At the ferry, on a small boat about to leave the shore, someone waved to him: "Hurry up! They won't last long!"

The rope was untied, and the man sat on the side of the ship, reaching out in the ice water, calling for the rapids to come.

Charles ran wildly, ignoring his breathing or listening to the strange noise behind him.

Then he saw it.

The cold river water was stained red with blood.

A head detached from the neck and fell into the water.

On the side of the ship, the headless body followed closely behind.

Only a recurve knife nailed into the ship's board was left.

The cold light of a whirlpool burst at that moment, and it cut off the head of the man neatly, almost cutting through the hull, and the remaining blade screamed and buzzed.

Immediately afterwards, the note on the knife lit up, the power in the alchemy matrix burst out, and the terrifying shock spread. The entire hull, along with the knife, collapsed like a grain of sand in the shock.

It fell into the river, melted into a mass of slurry, rolled downstream, and quickly disappeared.

Leave Charles alone standing in the knee-deep cold water on the shore, turning his head blankly and looking behind him.

In the deep woods, two dark purple lights lit up silently.

That is the eye of something.

Like a gem in the Hades, without any warmth and temperature, it is ten thousand times colder than ice currents and cold winds.

With the sound of low footsteps, dead leaves and branches were crushed.

The purple-eyed griffin stands under the moonlight.

Look at him. List of Silent Crown Chapters