20demayo Page 285
Page 285
The dark city wall, gradually aging and becoming mottled, revealed the witch within, her face filled with murderous intent.
Simone took a deep breath; she knew she had to take action.
If Blake can break the formation here, the chances of winning will greatly increase, so she must resist all disturbances to Blake!
But... poison gas, curses, resentment, and countless grand or subtle and ruthless spells flowed endlessly, as if telling of the other party's ferocity and indifference.
Like a giant wave, so merciless and vast, it made Simone feel suffocated.
She looked up and suddenly understood why everyone in the Holy Temple was so pessimistic.
The times are not something any one person can stop; all they can do is make their own voices heard.
For example, Blake, she grinned maliciously, roared, and opened her mouth!
"In this shitty era, let me test your so-called prowess. I am a knight who chases death and calamity!"
The white light resembled both dawn and the sorrowful bloom of irises.
The end and the beginning share the same origin.
Chapter 422 The Legacy Continues, the Inheritance Never Ends
"Did you hear the singing?" Elur asked, looking at the slightly creaking two-handed greatsword in her hand with a puzzled expression.
“No, it should be a roar.” After a brief hesitation, she changed her wording.
"I didn't hear either singing or roaring," Elur's companion, a little witch, rolled her eyes and complained.
"Ever since you started transporting goods on the tracks and defending against foreign enemies, you've always been so suspicious."
After saying that, the little witch asked curiously, "By the way, who gave you this staff? They were so generous."
Elur smiled smugly, quickly dismissing the seemingly illusory sound from her mind, and hummed softly.
"This is a gift from the renowned Lord of Fran, given by Black to the strong and brave Elur!"
Her friend looked at Elur with suspicion, seemingly trying to convince herself that Elur was really that outstanding.
However, she did know Blake, after all, the name of the wandering knight had long been widely known in Fran, and there were also some unofficial histories about him, such as his liking for women of different races.
But that doesn't stop the little witch from thinking that Black is a very powerful witch, even more powerful than the village chief.
So she looked at Elur's two-handed greatsword with envy, and suddenly had an idea.
"Since it was given to you by the Wandering Knight, what kind of knight are you?"
"True elegance lies in one knight gifting to another!"
The little witch spoke with some longing, and in the old Fran during the time of the saintess, there was a story of a knight who thought highly of others and shared his honor with them. The story was exceptionally classic and lingered for a long time. (Seven) Cheese (Five) Liu Xi.
Moreover, the so-called "others" here mainly refer to ordinary people who have no power or influence but possess only talent.
Elle and Black are a perfect match!
Although Elur... cough, the little witch didn't want to complain about her sister's talents and abilities, she happily skipped over that point.
Elur's eyes lit up. She had heard many similar stories, but what she cared about was not the so-called honor, but the feeling of being surrounded by others.
She wanted others to know her brilliance, so confident and dazzling.
After a brief moment of thought, Elur turned her gaze to the two-handed greatsword in her hand. She hadn't repaired the sword, but instead left it with countless nicks and chips of varying sizes.
Blake's sword gleamed with a faint silver light under her magical influence, though it was somewhat dimmed by dust and bloodstains.
“Just call me Silver Knight, yes!” Elur said happily, seemingly proud of her talent for naming things.
Silver Knight sounds much better than any other name, "Wandering Knight." It sounds like a kind and honest witch full of honor!
Most importantly, silver always shines so brightly, embodying Elul's expectations for herself.
"Okay, then I'll call you Silver Knight from now on, Elur." The little witch said seriously, "If we encounter any danger, you have to protect me, okay?"
“Of course!” Elur said proudly, “But having defeated the external enemy, Fran will not encounter any danger.”
The other party agreed wholeheartedly, so they put the little incident behind them and continued playing with Elle, only to find their mother had found them.
“Eluru, you…” They opened their mouths, but their smiles were forced, and their eyes were filled with sorrow.
"We found a new place outside, so...we're moving."
Elle and the little witch exchanged a glance, both puzzled. Everyone was living a good life, so why did they want to leave their hometown?
The danger from foreign tribes has vanished; shouldn't this place become a true paradise?
But when Elur saw the sorrow hidden in her mother's eyes, she suddenly glanced at the sword in her hand.
As if she had grasped some idea, her smile gradually faded, and she became quiet.
"Mom, will you come with us?" Elle asked softly, her voice trembling slightly.
Her mother was stunned, then hugged her and wept uncontrollably.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry, Elle, Mom has things to do, so you'll have to go to the new house alone. But don't worry, your idol Keva Miller will also be there."
“I…” Elle wasn’t stupid; she had heard about King Theresa’s rebellion, but to them, it was just a distant story.
After all, this place is not far from Riemann and has not suffered a serious disaster for a long time.
But Elur just couldn't accept it. She gripped her mother's hand tightly and whispered, "Is war coming?"
Having participated in logistical construction during foreign wars, she naturally understood that at the start of a war, the first priority was to evacuate the elderly and infirm.
The witches haven't aged; only little witches like them remain.
“It’s not war, it won’t be war,” her mother said reassuringly. “It will be over soon, Elur, very soon.”
"I will personally come to pick you up and bring you back to this better Fran."
A better flange? And whose flange are we talking about?
Elur's body gradually stiffened. She looked at her mother, whose eyes seemed to be burning with fire, and wanted to say something, but couldn't open her mouth.
Her witch-like nature reminded her that her mother was laughing, so unrestrainedly.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
Blood is given true value, sacrifice is no longer something to be afraid of, and everyone has their own treasure, waiting for them to push it to the top of the mountain and bring glory.
But who would care about the corpses that rolled down? Not even they themselves.
"I understand, Mother." Elur wiped away her tears, her voice gradually growing somber.
"I will go to the new house."
Because... a true knight will not cause others worry, nor will he stop others from seeking a better life; a knight will only protect everyone.
Protecting...
Elur finally burst into tears. She suddenly felt a pang of hatred for her own weakness and for the haste of the times.
If possible, she would like to follow behind her mother, no, to stand in front of her mother, like Blake, to shield others from the wind and rain.
So, she made up her mind.
"I will grow into a true knight to protect you."
Go and protect that Fran, which should truly exist, one that will never be embroiled in internal strife and will always remain at peace.
The story of Theresa, Black, and countless other witches has taken an unexpected turn.
Only when Theresa's body was recovered did that single tear, like one of relief, finally fall.
Only Blake calmly watched the torn defensive line and the corpses of the enemies, gently wiping away the blood flowing from Simone's body.
Only more and more witches, attacking the alliance, are telling their own stories.
Unbeknownst to them, those neglected children were seeing a completely new image of Fran in their minds.
The lingering song drifts on, even if it is silent.
The inheritance begins to sprout, even when far away.
Only the restrained night-blooming jasmine, unwilling to turn back, continues its journey into the abyss.
Chapter 423 Embracing Truth in a False History
Theresa is dead.
Night-blooming Jasmine's tone was slightly low, with a hint of etherealness as if her words were being carried away by the wind, making it impossible to discern her true thoughts.
She simply stared at the pale green meadow ahead with a cool and aloof expression.
Jennifer Hayes opened her mouth, looking somewhat surprised, but then slowly closed it again, covering her chest with her hand as she felt a pang of sadness.
Her relationship with Theresa wasn't exactly superficial, but she never expected that the witch who could devour everything would ultimately choose to use her own corpse to distribute to the entire Fran.
“This is just a scene destined in history.” Jennifer Hayes’s voice was a little hoarse. Even though she knew that this was just history repeating itself, she still felt bitter.
“No, you’re wrong, Jennifer Hayes.” Night Fragrance stopped and looked at the other woman with a serious expression. The dark purple lines around her eyes seemed to bloom with thorns, silently symbolizing death.
"I have watched over countless restarts and witnessed many situations that contradict history. The gate of time and space only contains the will of the witch, not the true history."
"Therefore, it is not because of history that Theresa died, but because she deliberately approached death countless times."
"If she hadn't died today, as long as there was still a possibility of division in Fran, she would still have offered her own death sometime in the afternoon."
Jennifer Hayes paused for a moment, then fell silent.
She watched as Ye Laixiang lifted her robe, revealing a face and arms covered in patterns resembling wailing. As if realizing something, she raised her longsword and became wary of her surroundings.
The final ceremony is about to begin.
Night-blooming Jasmine's tone was soft, but it carried a suppressed smile.
"Do you know Jennifer Hayes?"
"The more we witness these false histories, the more we discover the true nature of each witch's heart."
"So whether you die or not is not important; what is important is how to embrace the truth in this false history."
The night-blooming jasmine opens its arms, feeling the resentment and wails of countless losers, and looks up at the sky with a joyful smile.
"So how could I not be corrupted by such a clamorous will and become one of them?"
"After all, a crack of regret has been left in my heart from the very beginning."
"From the moment she saw Keva Miller face death alone, powerless and unable to stop it, the witch called Pleasure was constantly tormented."