Chapter 231 First, there was no blood
He hurriedly ran through the dark streets with the goods his master needed. A long animal skin coat wrapped his partially shed skin and helped him protect the things in his hands. goods. He did not wonder what the contents of the goods obtained from the church were, but simply muttered that he could not lose it.
No, the master will let those who displease him die without value, he has seen many times, those miserable creatures weakly decayed without worth, and will not be paid from The price of resurgence among the bloody conclave scattered deep within Commorragh.
He can't be stupid enough to let himself experience that fate, not to mention he still has a message to deliver - a fresh, wet message, not popular enough, but enough to prove that he is the best and most trusted by his master of servants. He must return to the mansion before any other servant to deliver the big news into the hands of his master.
Thinking of the meaning behind this message made him feel uneasy in his guts. This was a daring challenge, the start and declaration of war of an absurd game of change, but the city's fragile peace did exist because of this. Threatened with collapse.
He even thought about running away, because maybe it was too late, and then he felt deeply proud that he made the right choice to try his best to rush back. If the master is willing to believe that he is a good servant who dares to face the consequences, he may even get a reward that is enough to support him to continue to live happily in this meaningless and boring life.
He jumped down from the ramp lightly, passed through the floral decorations composed of stone, metal and glass, and ran on the beautifully carved black and green stone steps, hoping that the two interested nightmares on the roadside had not really Notice him.
The wastewater on the roadside is filled with hallucinogenic gases composed of pure and fragrant medicines and waste chemicals. If he had not had to protect the goods in his hands, he would have been willing to temporarily immerse himself in it and find it on the edge of numbness. A moment of madness that is enough to make you forget all your words.
He is approaching the corridor of flesh and blood and the luxurious hall where the master is. This is the territory of the Wyatt family. His master has lived here for several generations, experienced many duels between famous families, survived orgies and murders, and informal non-contractual love affairs. So proud of this.
When he approached the pale green stone door of the hall and the gleaming morbid border, he suddenly heard a scream, high enough to penetrate the protective shield that blurred the mansion. He licked his lips, wanting to know what new tricks his master was playing that would break the stimulation threshold.
He waited at the door for the samurai to allow him to return to the mansion. After ten minutes of ineffective waiting and seeing the reflection of a Talos engine's sharp knife on the street corner, he finally pushed the door open and entered on his own initiative. It made him feel uncomfortable, like being hung on a nail from the roof by his master and ignored: he weighed the situation himself, which was the wrong kind of arrogance.
He walked through the dark front hall as quietly as possible, moving quietly among the corpses with their necks broken, wondering why the owner played so cleanly this time. He smelled so little pain in the dead, these rare and precious elements of life being sadly wasted, that somehow he felt a deep uneasiness.
Bang. The door was knocked against the wall by the wind. The valve leaked due to being left unattended, and he angrily mentally scolded his colleagues who had neglected their duties, cursing them for losing the favor of their master.
In the shadow without light, he followed the footsteps of his memory until his footsteps were blocked by a strange distortion. This made him almost drop the goods in his arms to the ground.
He hurriedly hugged something more important than his soul, groping to confirm the current shape of the twisted corridor - it was like a ruin pushed away by some kind of impact wave, or a drop of it was enough to The surgical solvent is dropped into the diluted emulsion, and the entire reality is tampered with and deformed by unknown forces.
He climbed over the collapsed porch, the illusion of his master fading like mist. He was wary of traps, hoping that the debris blocking the stairs wouldn't trip him up. He skirted around the sloping pillars and crept under the sagging roofs until he came close to the silver ring carved with rosettes and crescent barbs that hung from the cellar door.
At this moment, he hesitated whether he should enter. But there came a strange voice, with an intolerable accent and a most ugly and strange accent. Unfortunately, however, the roughness and brutality in the voice captured him, causing him to instantly fall into the pain that this moment brought him.
"Come in, Eldar," said the voice, worth more than the finest narcotic flowers.
He carefully pressed a rosette next to the silver ring, knowing that anyone who touched the silver ring itself would be instantly pierced by long arrows seven times. The master likes Yin Huan very much, and his agreement guarantees that he can be resurrected from the palace of flesh and blood at any time, but a servant does not have such enviable conditions.
Metal, crystal, and polished bone make up the incredibly delicate structures in the cellar; simple pagoda-like cages made of gilded bars are contrasted with giant wire spheres, leaded glass cubes, and intertwined ossuaries; brought down Thorned blades and lighted candlesticks squeezed against each other, forming a jagged and racing bridge as dizzying as the skyline of Commorragh.
In the middle of these complex structures, he saw an unimaginable giant sitting on the ground against the flattest wall in the room.
The giant may have just stood up from the operating stone and left. The epidermis in many places still hangs out of its normal position. However, there are no tendons under the cut and torn skin. There were no exposed pale bones, and not even a drop of sweet blood leaked out.
He could smell a familiar smell, that was the breath of his master. In every precious approach, rare reward and punishment that needed to be remembered, he could smell the fragrant and rotten smell. smell. Now, this smell is coming from a pool of flesh and blood that has been crushed by some unknown reality-distorting power.
The giant's broken face was illuminated by the candlelight. There was no pain on it, and it even seemed to have no real consciousness. Under the missing cheek is a shadow of pure nothingness, and a golden steel structure hidden within the shadow. This brings out a unique charm beyond flesh-and-blood art.
The syringes or tubes used to inject the anesthetic and neurotoxin solution had just been removed one by one. Each priceless injection was broken and discarded without mercy, but for some reason, more than ten frosted black needles were left on the scalp. pipeline.
A pile of various indulgence books, murder manuals, dark torture and a small number of cultural reading books that the owner once collected are scattered at the feet of the giant, and have just been browsed at high speed. Somehow, he guessed that the giant had temporarily learned their noble and ancient language from these books.
After he reached the giant's feet, the giant finally gave up and put a severed finger back into his palm. He temporarily placed his fingers on his knees, and the dark gold metal that replaced his broken finger bones flickered in the candlelight.
The giant stared at him, tearing off a piece of skin that could not be removed from his cheek, and then tore off a piece of neck flesh hanging down from his shoulders. More steel and metal are exposed.
"Where is this, Eldar?" he asked. "And the current year and month?"
(End of this chapter)