Chapter 1220 The Boy and the Hero (Part 1)
Hearing Octavia mention the original body, Talos did not appear surprised or angry, he just smiled and shook his head.
“Maybe.”
Septimus rubbed his hands uneasily, and then whispered:
“Master, I heard about the Astral Knight’s request. Chapter Leader Shiyang values you very much and regards you as his right-hand man. I think he will find a way to cure you.”
"Did Valier or Dietrian tell you these words? You'd better stay away from Valier. You are by no means ignorant of his behavior on the Blood Oath, not to mention that there are some things that you don't know much about. Miao, I can't protect you forever and don't cause unnecessary trouble for myself. As for me, everyone will have their own destiny to die, and no one can change this, not even the emperor can change it."
At the mention of the word "death", Octavia's body trembled visibly.
Then she turned her head, looked at Septimus, nodded to him, and the pilot turned and walked out the door.
Taros noticed their actions and smiled:
"You brought other people with you? It was like saying goodbye. To be honest, I am not one who would lie in bed waiting for death. Man, there is no need for you to worry about me for now.”
As he spoke, Septimus walked in, surrounded by three children, a girl and two boys. The oldest boy looked to be seven or eight years old.
They surrounded their father, looking at the giant on the bed with timidity and curiosity.
“. After giving birth to little Talos (the number zero that Valier mentioned before, readers who forgot can go back and read Chapter 891) Octavia had already lost her fertility. Thanks to Valier After the operation, we had three more children, the second son is called Macuchen, the third daughter is called Dasha, and the fourth son is named Selion. They are all healthy. "
Talos sat up from the bed and looked at the few. One child had a strange expression.
"Ha, Valier still has this kind of skill. If he goes to the hive city to open a hospital, he will definitely make a lot of money, but then again. If Selion knew that you made him the youngest, he would definitely be furious. .”
At this time, the eldest Markusen suddenly spoke in a childish voice:
“You are. Are you the angel of the God Emperor!”
Taros’s face bloomed with emotion. A smile.
"Yes, I am His angel, the angel representing death."
Marcusen stepped forward cautiously, reaching out his hand to touch Talos's knee. Via quickly reached out her hand.
"Don't be rude."
"It's okay."
Talos waved his hand and asked the boy to come to him, then stretched out his hand and let the other person's delicate palm brush it. of scars.
"So big. So powerful! Uncle Angel, what about your wings? I see that the paintings in the church all have wings."
The boy's eyes widened.
"Mom said that you were sailing in the sea of stars, fighting evil dragons, and were all given a pair of wings by the God Emperor to travel among the stars. Is this true?"
Talos Smiling slightly, this was a smile Octavia had never seen on the face of this "soul hunter", like a child.
"The wings are folded. We only open our wings when we face the enemy."
Ma Kuchen inherited his mother's eyes, and the pupils were brown, but he His hair is light gray like his father's.
Talos' gentle attitude seemed to have dispelled the fear he had when they first met. The boy blinked and asked very seriously.
"People say I am brave. Can I become an angel like you? Is this possible?"
Talos looked down at the child. He looked so far away, not even tall. to his waist.
But he felt something -
Maybe, this was the feeling he was looking for, and he saw his former self in this boy.
Taros then bent down and asked softly.
"Why do you want to be an angel?"
"Because. Because, mother said that angels are all heroes, I want to be a hero!"
Be a hero.
This sentence hit Talos's mind like a heavy hammer, shattering so-and-so's ice wall, allowing those things he tried to forget to emerge from the deep sea of memory again——< br>
He has always been a slow child. At least his mentor would use this word to describe those children who sit separately from others, and he knows that they are where he belongs.
There are four retarded children in the class. The four of them sit by the window. They usually don't pay much attention to the teacher's words, but they have never been punished for it.
The boy, the fourth and youngest of the four, sat with them and looked out the window with the others.
There are cars passing by at night, and the headlights of the cars are very dim. After all, they want to relieve eye fatigue.
The gloomy night sky was obscured by the tower tops, and each spire was decorated with huge illuminated signs selling all the necessary things for adults.
The boy turned back to his tutor, who had listened fitfully to her lecture on language and what she taught other children—those who were not retarded.
Words are still a novelty to them.
The boy didn’t understand at all why these words were so strange to everyone. He had already read it in his mother's book no less than a dozen times.
The tutor noticed that he was looking at her and hesitated for a moment. Normally she would ignore him and pretend to forget his existence with that casual and familiar intimacy.
The boy didn't take his eyes off her, thinking to himself that maybe she would teach him a new word or something.
Sure enough, she did it for him, pointing to a word written on a flickering screen and asking him if he knew what it meant.
The boy didn't answer her. The boy rarely responded to his mentor, and he suspected that was why adults said he was slow.
When the bell rang, announcing the end of tonight's teaching, all the children stood up from their seats. Most of them put away their writing boards, and those who were slow put away their drawings. The scraps of paper with childish drawings were pushed aside.
The boy had nothing to pick up because he had done nothing but stare out the window all night.
The walk home takes more than an hour, and even longer if it rains. The boy walked past the cars stuck in the traffic queue, listening to the drivers shouting at each other.
Only a block or two away from where he was walking, gunshots sounded like popcorn popping. It was obvious that two gangs were fighting. He was curious about who they were and how many people died.
He was not surprised when his friends caught up with him, but the boy had been hoping to be alone tonight.
He smiled at his friend, pretending he wasn't offended, and his friend smiled back.
His friends are not actually his real friends. They call each other friends mainly because their mothers are friends and the two families live in the living cabin next to each other.
"The instructor asked you a question tonight."
said his friend Ciel, as if the boy hadn't noticed him.
“I know.”
“But why don’t you answer? Don’t you know what to say?”
That’s the problem, the boy never knew What to say, even if he knew the right answer.
“I don’t understand why we have to go to tutoring.”
He responded, the city around him moving and breathing as ever, tires whizzing by on the next road.
The voices of accusation, questioning, and pleading were high-pitched and loud, and exciting music sounded from nearby buildings.
"Of course it's to study."
The boy's mother once told him that his friend would grow up to "break a heart one night," but the boy didn't see it.
On the other hand, from the boy's perspective, his friends always look confused, angry, or confused and angry.
"Our tutor is all talking about things that I have known for a long time, so why should we learn? I have never been able to figure it out."
"Because... this is a matter of course."
< br>The friend's look was full of confusion that made the boy laugh.
"Every time you talk, you ask some really stupid questions."
The boy didn't pay attention, his friend just never understood such things.
(End of this chapter)