Thin mist filled the air, the night was deep and cold, the dim starry sky enveloped the ancient town, and the lingering cold mist surrounded the church spire.
Around the square-shaped roof, pitch-black crows circled silently one after another, and from time to time bright stars appeared in the corners of the eyes, mouths and other gaps.
There are some buildings scattered around this church with a strange style, including ordinary two-story houses, simple wooden houses, bakeries with hanging signs, and gray-white mills with waterwheels on the outside, but more of them are
The ruins of the overall structure were destroyed by burnt blackening and smooth sections.
Some of their different parts of the house are strangely grafted together, while others seem to have been kneaded together by strong external forces, with bricks and wood intersecting with each other, completely losing the appearance of the house.
The surrounding roads were completely silent, without a single pedestrian. Looking at the dark wooden windows of the remaining intact houses, it seemed that the entire town had fallen asleep in this quiet and peaceful night, without exception.
Here, time seems to have lost its own meaning, and the whole town seems to be buried with tombstones, which can only prove the existence of an old era.
The sparse starlight on the sky was still moving. Gradually, the cold fog shrouding the entire town became heavier and heavier, and two phantoms slowly appeared in the dim night sky.
They are like a woman's arms, not real, but actually affecting everything.
The arms partially covered with short black hair worked hard to move the velvety and thick night sky, and a scarlet red slowly walked out from behind the scenes.
After passing through the layers of fog, only the faint crimson moonlight covered the town, and hoarse whispers rang out on the stone streets.
Illusive and hazy shadows walked out of the fog that could be seen everywhere. The history before the town's destruction seemed to reappear. The residents with blank eyes were repeating the history that they could no longer go back to. Some walked into the houses, and some because of
He lost his residence forever and could only wander on the streets.
The whole town was eerily peaceful.
They walked by in a hurry, but never got close to the church in the middle of the town.
Squeak.
The bishop with an old and unremarkable face pushed open the closed door of the church. As if he didn't notice the strange residents outside, he went to greet the few priests behind him and swept the dust in front of the door.
In the church with a rather ancient feel, the huge stained glass windows gently let down the crimson moonlight, which was refracted and reflected on the stone altar in the center, dyeing the stubby black hair of the giant wolf red.
"Damn it, it's time to bask in the moon again."
The giant wolf lying on the altar slowly stood up, its eight giant claws spread out, and its front body pressed down, making a clicking sound under the thick fur.
He moved his body, which gradually became comfortable, and his huge body suddenly shrank, and the short and thick black hair was squeezed into a ball. The furry piece was spread on the altar, and the softness inside was spit out bit by bit.
The young man, who was only covered by a tattered robe, stepped forward gently, his white soles stepping on the cold stone bricks, and walked forward.
He slowly opened his eyes. His dark eyes were dark and deep, just like ordinary people. Only the sides of his cheeks were very obviously decorated with a few wolf hairs, hinting at his identity.
The priest who was cleaning the church was still rushing around amid the inarticulate instructions of the old bishop, and walked away from the young man from time to time.
But they didn't seem to see the young man who had transformed from a giant wolf, continuing the work in his hands like a programmed machine.
The red moon outside the church still hung high in the night sky. The strange young man sat dejectedly on the top step. The pedestrians passing by on the street in front turned their heads to him.
Silently, illusory threads rose from these historical images. The busy bishops and priests behind them were as still as stone sculptures. The ubiquitous cold fog became thicker and thicker, taking on a bit of gray flavor.
He looked at everything in front of him, his eyes sweeping over the collapsed houses in the distance, the invisible barriers further away, and the lost ruins that had long been blocked. His eyes seemed to have traveled through history.
With this different emotion, He raised his right hand slightly and scratched the air aimlessly.
Her warm palm held the young man's cold hand. Fran, who had taken off one of her red gloves, silently stared at the confused young man next to her, and sat with him, her light purple eyes revealing unconcealed emotions.
concern.
They clasped their hands and admired the "scenery" in front of them together, without any intention of communicating, until the projection from history reached its limit.
Fran's illusory figure gradually dissipated, and her unreal hands reappeared in the night, gently holding the red moon, and the town once again returned to a state surrounded only by fog.
The confused young man was still sitting on the steps in front of the church, but there were no pedestrians in front of him.
Click!
The scene that seemed to have been frozen in time suddenly shattered, and the giant wolf lurking deep in the church opened its eyes, its cold vertical pupils reflecting a strange crimson color.
Antigonus stood up slowly, moved his stiff neck, and spoke in a bad tone.