His hands were covered with blood, and the low incense candle was the only lighting in the hut, and the power he communicated with was placed in the bones hanging on the iron chains on the wall.
The air was filled with smoke, a layer of oily mud wrapped around the bones, and the forked tongue was hung from the skull without a jaw.
His movements were very slow, erasing the words that appeared on an ancient silver plate. He summoned three times and oppressed the other party to tell three secrets.
In the end, he didn't get what he wanted.
As the A-space returned to him silent, his question could not be answered. He wanted to know what the darkness that enveloped Amydodon was, but even the demon kept silent and would rather be destroyed by him.
As soon as he finished writing on the silver board, he heard the door open.
Suddenly, the candle fire churned. He put down the blood-stained silver plate and reached out to a copper bowl with both hands. At the same time, heavy footsteps sounded behind him.
"Why are you so upset, brother?"
The answer was silence, he listened carefully, and his senses could distinguish its characteristics from the tiniest sound, which was his innate talent.
The rhythm of footsteps, the presence or absence of breathing, the operation sound of the servo system in the armor, all of which are as clear as the observation pattern on his palm.
“Brother Zahari.”
He didn't look up, but was just looking at the clean water dyed red in the bowl with concentration.
"This is not as silent as you."
There was still no answer, and the footsteps stopped, only the slight collision of the armor was still there.
In total, three people appeared, and he blinked, trying to infer the identities of others.
Then he raised his hand and shook off the remaining pink droplets of water from his bent fingers. In the eyes of people like them, power is a complex mirror containing perception, control and faith.
At this moment, he should have been suspicious, and should have turned around to see who came in through the gate he had sealed himself, and should have reached out to take out his weapon to defend himself.
"Brother Misso, I hope this is not your response to the method I chose. If so, you can just say it, and I will tell you that it is the method I chose, and others will agree with it."
He murmured to himself, and he took a black cloth from the edge of the bowl to wipe his hands. For some reason, the scars on his knuckles were aching.
"Raman Stephens, I have heard your silence, and all of you must understand that I have to do it,"
In his mind, he remembered what he asked from the mouth of the tortured demon before. That guy could understand the future in a way he could not understand. Perhaps it was quite dangerous, but it didn't matter. He believed that he could control it.
"A crisis has emerged between the realm of reality and intangible matter. I have encountered those nightmares day after day. The dark star has begun to appear, but it has not yet fully bloomed. We need some extraordinary means to overcome this level."
After saying that, he threw the cloth back into the bowl, splashed water, picked up the hand armor from the table, and put it on carefully.
"I know you're in fear."
He looked down at his palms splashed with water, bent his fingers to adjust his position.
"Yes, I mean fear... There are many forms of fear, and there are only a few common types on the battlefield. Seeing comrades being knocked down, blood relatives falling into black rage, and watching the situation on the battlefield take a sharp turn. What else can you react to when you see such a crisis? What else can you feel besides fear?"
He straightened his fingers one by one, and his mind was split into two parts, equating the words that forced him to snatch with a more direct and incredible result.
"You see those shadows as monsters and desire to kill them, but you should not be afraid of what I do, I am not your enemy."
After saying this, he held his breath.
Why don't they answer?
If you want to do something, why don’t you see any movement?
"I always thought that I was such a person, not good at speaking and clumsy thinking."
He reached out to pick up his dagger, and blood was applied to the silver blade.
"But at this moment I just ask you to listen."
Then he was ready and his two hearts suddenly pumped the heat blood into his body.
"Listen to me and trust me."
Suddenly, he turned around.
"I believe in you, brothers Kalistarius."
This is another existence talking, but the voice almost scared his soul away.
He turned around and saw only a noble mask, the shape of a crying handsome man with golden tears frozen on his sad face.
The next moment, Silver Blade fell to the ground. He was dumbfounded and came back to his senses. However, the hut was empty and there was no figure.
The sound of the dagger falling to the ground broke the silence in the room.
The two hearts in his chest were pounding like a heavy hammer. He stood blankly for a while, then walked towards the door of the room, and his staggering steps echoed in the room.
The warning seal he had arranged with his own hands had turned into ashes, but the door was intact and there was no sign of opening it, so he reached out to open it and stopped.
What just happened?
Is it an illusion?
Is it an attack?
Is it a warning?
Why did San Gillino suddenly speak to him?
In the chaos of thinking, the Holy Blood Angel Think Tank, the honorary member of the First Company, and the Register of the Register Kalistarius sighed lightly, feeling that the future became more and more confusing, especially after the battle group set out to support the Amydodon Star, this feeling became stronger and stronger.
As a think tank of the battle group, in addition to managing the battle group's classics archives, he also handled the divination before the battle group's expedition.
The result of divination is not good, but the danger does not come from war. It seems that there is a darker existence waiting for them, at least that thing will never be green-skinned-
In order to know what that was, he even used the power of certain taboos - even among think tanks, he was known for his boldness.
It is this boldness that made him stand out in the battle of "cursing sins" on the space waste city. However, most soldiers are far away from spiritual energy, and people like him who are a little bit "playing with fire" are more likely to be isolated, so his friends are basically wise.
Library.
"Oh, I've been restless these days-"
After finishing divination, he chose to meditate on the spot for a while, but suddenly his personal communication channel was connected.
"Record of the Calistarius."
It was his apprentice Gaius Lecheros' voice, and the other party seemed to be waiting for his response.
"What's up?"
"Have you disturbed?"
Kalistarius looked at the empty dark hut and then responded slowly.
"No, you tell me."
"what happened?"
As he said that, Kalistarius had already stood up and picked up his helmet from the table.
"It's time to arrive in Amyddoton."
"I understand, I'll arrive soon, is there anything else?"
"Well... I just received the latest news, we are not the first ones to arrive."
"Oh? Who is that?"
"It's the Knights of the Astral Realm and the White Temple, both of them are sub-groups of the Imperial Fist."
Kalistarius was stunned for a moment. For a moment, he seemed to have caught something in his mind, but soon he found nothing as before.
"strangeness--"
With confusion, he left his room, leaving only the incense in the dark slowly dissipating-