Chapter 7 Welcome
"I am not a mortal." Perturabo's stubbornness may not change even when Olympia is destroyed. "I'm different from them, it's just that you took away part of my extraordinary abilities."
"And the talent for cooking?"
Perturabo immediately stuffed the grilled fish into his mouth. Chew it twice, hold your neck and swallow it. "You don't have enough taste to appreciate my works."
He was afraid that Morse would use this matter to irritate him again, so he quickly lowered his hand, twisted his wrist, and carried the grilled fish behind his back, away from the other person's sight.
"Yes, yes." Morse agreed casually. "You are not a mortal, you are just a magical child who knows nothing. You may not even have the courage to face a group of harmless guards. Perturabo, go face your fate. The Lokos Guards are looking for you." It’s been a long time for you.”
The tremors on the ice shaped by psychic energy were getting closer and closer, and Perturabo also turned to look in the direction of the forest.
The corridor-like trees and the ice-covered ground formed a natural echo corridor. The friction between the metal armor and the leather was amplified by the natural airflow, and rolled towards Perturabo very quickly. If he were a pale leaf that had fallen from the branch, he would have been torn apart by the force and swept away.
But his feet still stepped directly on the dry hard soil, which was heavier than high-density steel. He shouted "This is a last resort" while saving his face and drifting away in the wind. imagination.
But he is obviously no longer steel, he would rather be a reed.
Perturabo grasped the only thing in his hand tightly, feeling the slender warm metal embedded in the lines of his palm, and then he suddenly realized that he had prepared something fierce to challenge Maul. Sri Lanka's grilled fish.
He immediately turned his head back and saw Morse dissipating in the air relying on his nameless powerful ability.
That abominable man is fading rapidly, and the eye-catching black clothes are fading as if they were wiped away by detergent, allowing the gorgeous and messy painted murals on the house behind him to replace his position in this cross-section of the world.
His head with shaggy black hair remained for the longest time, perhaps specially reserved for him; the thin lips raised in the pale skin made Perturabo feel a rush of hot blood rushing up his spine. The pulse and blood vessels are all stretched open.
"Morse——" He rushed forward to catch the opponent, waving his fingers and grabbing nothingness in the air.
"Come out! Give me back my ability, my wisdom and talent. I have a unique mission, and I should not dedicate my life to a city-state limited to a planet..."
I can't So fragile.
His heart beat powerfully in his body. For a mortal heart, even the smallest stimulation made him dizzy. The illusion of coldness came from all directions, wrapping around his skin, invading from every small wound he had accumulated in recent days, and going against the lines of blood vessels and nerves.
"Morse——" he shouted, he couldn't face a group of mortals like this!
“Click.”
The toe of the iron boot knocked over a scrap of semi-finished stone carving outside the house, and the weight at the end of the long blunt spear broke a weed outside the fence of the house.
More breaths gathered around Morse's territory.
Perturabo's heart suddenly fell into a blank. Under the gathering panic, his brain almost restored its previous functions for a brief moment. Countless information flowed through like a majestic waterfall. The first The first is that these people heard him calling Morse, the second is that these people must have heard him calling Morse loudly, and the third is that he was just a passerby who accidentally fell into danger and no one knew him. Mortal child.
The great Perturabo? Who is that? There is absolutely no way it could be this frail, useless body.
Absolutely not! Absolutely not! No resemblance at all!
Then his legs and feet drove his upper body to rotate, which was stiffer than a mechanical tower clock in disrepair and hollower than a set of soulless faceless armor.
He held the long metal stick across his chest without any knowledge to show his strength and danger.
At the end of the long stick, the long-tortured charred grilled fish kept vibrating. The two half-moon-shaped gaps that were bitten off were particularly eye-catching, and the torn fish skin hung on the edge, giving off a fierce reflection. Perturabo stared at the face of the officer at the front, which was less than half covered by the helmet, and tried hard to look into the shadowed eyes.
The officer's hand passed over the grooved gold and silver barrel on his waist. From the man's body language, Perturabo read a subtle pretense. Calm.
He hoped that he was not so in the eyes of the other party, and at the same time selectively hinted that he was ignoring the grilled fish on the long sign in his hand.
"Who are you?" Perturabo broke the silence, brushing aside the desire to escape at the end of his words, "Helmed men, what are you doing here?"
The leader stepped forward. Step forward, bow your head and salute.
"By the order of our lord Damex, he came to look for the boy of Qadisiya. He killed Yepidae with the body of a boy, and killed the plague of disaster with a club and a hammer. Snake. Son of God from the mountains, my lord invites you to visit Lokos."
"I don't remember anything you mentioned," said Perturabo, holding on to his imagination. Pull out the decorative sword flower, take the opportunity to throw away the burnt grilled fish, and then pierce the end of the long stick into the soil, as if holding a sword standing upright.
"I am not the son of God, and there are no gods in the world. Please leave here."
The knowledge in his mind was indeed blocked by some extremely hateful weirdo, but Perturabo could still be sure of this There is no god in this world.
This information was born at the bottom of his thinking model. He discovered it, cherished it, and was always ready to demonstrate it.
There was a small commotion among the soldiers on the opposite side, like a gust of wind caressing the water, causing cascading ripples. The feathers on their helmets trembled, the golden leather wrapping their skirts and armor swayed back and forth, and the arm armor reflected the turbulent light. Perturabo clearly saw someone shaking his head at the back of the line.
The leader of this team stepped forward again, took off his platinum helmet with colorful patterns, and faced Perturabo with his true appearance.
"We have been able to witness the great achievements of the Son of God along the way." He said solemnly. "There are rumors in the countryside that you beheaded the serpent. The shepherds saw you climbing the towering cliffs of Phylgia. When we walked towards your residence When we come, the frost and the dense forest will grant us a path. My lord Damex sincerely invites you to come, and Lokos will do his best."
Perturabo looked at the team in front of him silently, pointing his finger. Rub it on the metal skewer. The warm metal rubbed against the scabbed scar on his fingertip, and he remembered what caused the wound - the wooden handle of Morse's stone hammer, a disastrous wooden thorn that escaped his absent-minded observation at the time.
A wooden thorn is enough to penetrate the flaw and pierce the shield of words.
Just like the "miracle" that this team witnessed with their own eyes, Morse messed up, making it impossible for him to prove that he was just a mortal.
Just like the opportunity Morse left for him before, he found a crack to break the deadlock.
Perturabo looked up. His voice became lighter.
"I am not the lord of this place, nor am I the son of a god. You are looking for someone else, a craftsman ahead of his time, a wise man who lives in isolation. It is not me that Damex is looking for, But he——"
He raised his long stick and pointed at the empty wicker chair behind him, while gritting his teeth and mouthing: "Morse, you still owe me one condition!"< br>
Morse's messy black hair appeared on the top of the empty wicker chair facing away from everyone, and then there was a hand raised upward, lazily wrapped in black cloth.
"I'm here." He said weakly.
(End of this chapter)