Unexpectedly, Handel died tragically at the hands of the betrayal Wolf Flute so early, and Rommel, who was stimulated, chose the dark trial sealed by the silent mechanism.
As the center of the world, the Holy City has accumulated countless wealth over the past hundreds of years, and there are countless ways to quickly increase its strength. Even the Pope himself can help people increase their power without any side effects.
And Rommel chose the most tragic one.
He himself is an advanced musician killer of the Forbidden School. After passing the transformation and surgery of the alchemical matrix, he has experienced several hellish transformations, and even his skin has festered and peeled off several times.
At the cost of complete physical decay, it only took him half a year to move from the distortion level to the top of the master field, and then he and Ye Qingxuan almost broke through the scepter with both feet.
The difference is that his scepter was blessed by the Red King himself with the movement "Emperor", inheriting the elements most suitable for "Handel", and then naturally inherited the holy name and position of his teacher.
However, before he could take up the position of head of the Silent Organization, he resigned from the Church at the behest of the College of Cardinals, went to Asgard, and joined the war.
He is an Asgardian himself, a descendant of the declining Qingyan clan, and the only heir. It makes perfect sense to serve Asgard as a saint.
For Asgard, this war has more certainty.
But for him, it was also the beginning of revenge.
Because of this, the old musician is filled with worry.
"Time is short, let's keep the story short."
The old musician turned to the topic: "I'm afraid others have told you about the next situation. If there are no accidents, the enemy you will face at sea... is the traitor Wolf Flute's friend, Avalon. The prince."
After he finished speaking, he looked at Rommel.
When the name Wolf Flute was mentioned, Rommel's expression did not change at all and remained cold.
This determination made the old musician sigh with emotion. He could only be said to be worthy of being the person in charge of the Silent Organization. He remained calm at all times, even if he had an iron will to kill.
"No need to irritate me with that name, sir."
Rommel's eyes were lowered: "Are you worried that I will lose?"
"Who is the enemy? I'm afraid everyone except the three kings will be worried, right?" The old musician spread his hands: "After all, who can guess what he will do next?"
"Indeed, Ye Qingxuan is full of tricks, and I am not as good as him."
Without any arrogance or humility, Rommel's answer was simple and straightforward: "But if he appears on the frontal battlefield as my enemy, then I will tell you that I will win this battle." "
He was certain about this.
Even if the enemy has natural disasters, why don't the saints have ways to deal with them
What's more, the situation is by no means that simple.
Even if Ye Qingxuan goes out in person, the Net of Tai will definitely stay in Avalon.
For that kind of non-combat type of national important weapon, I am afraid that only if it is left in the kingdom of heaven on earth, can it be safe and secure. And Ye Qingxuan, who has left the Ethernet, will fall from the level of natural disaster to the scepter.
The weakest scepter.
Everyone around the world knows that his scepter is useless once outside the ethereal network.
A blueprint
and the inheritance of the Holy Name, which one is the strongest...
Isn't this something obvious
But even so, no one dared to relax at all. Facing people like Ye Qingxuan, it was necessary to face a formidable enemy no matter how hard it was.
"Since you are sure of victory, I will stop nagging you."
The old musician was silent for a moment and then said: "I will hand over the maritime fortress to you, and there will be three staffs with you. Mr. Rommel, I convey an order to you in the name of His Majesty the Emperor - this battle will be won. If you When you return victorious, Asgard will spare no effort to support you or revive the Qingyan clan."
"Then, I obey."
Rommel saluted His Majesty the Emperor, represented by the old musician, raised his cane, and turned to leave.
The old musician was left sitting alone on the chair, staring at the huge map on the wall.
I don't know why, but I always feel uneasy.
He closed his eyes.
"Ye Qingxuan..."
…
…
The sky seemed to reflect the muddy gray on the ground.
The gray-black mud should have been fertile soil, but now it smelled like rot.
"Lord, please grant me salvation." The ragged refugee crawled in the mud and kissed Charles's boots devoutly: "Please grant us relief..."
Beneath the foul-smelling bandages on his neck and face lay one abominable boil after another.
A wailing sound came from the wilderness.
Ciel raised his head and looked around blankly, looking at those dull eyes in disbelief.
"How come there are so many..."
"That's just part of it."
Paganini said lightly: "Some are landless people, some are lepers, some are beggars, and some are bankrupt farmers... There have been droughts for years, and last year's frost was so severe. They missed the spring plowing, and they have no hope. The evicted people It’s worthless. There is too little land in the Caucasus to support weeds, nor to support them. You can’t save them, and even if you do, they will die.”
Ciel was silent.
The refugee in the mud looked up at him, and his expectant eyes were broken bit by bit. The man wanted to say something, but his cracked lips murmured, and in the end, nothing came out.
He limped away.
The sound of a child crying came from behind the victims.
Soon, the crying sound disappeared.
Ciel lowered his head.
After a long while, he looked back at Paganini: "How much food do we have?"
"We are going to open up wasteland, not to provide relief."
Paganini shook his head in disappointment: "There is not much food left. Everyone has a food quota. Now Gaius only eats coarse flour pancakes. Who has food to give to others?"
"How many more?" Charles asked repeatedly.
Paganini sighed and glanced beside him. The clerk turned over the account book bitterly: "After excluding everyone's quota, we still have two pickles and five pancakes."
After hearing this, Paganini looked at Charles:
"How many can you save?"
"Yeah, how many can we save?"
Charles sighed bitterly, stretched out his hand, and looked at the clerk: "Give it to me."
The clerk hesitated for a moment, then took down two cloth bags from the car, took out two pickled fish, took out five pancakes, and finally took out a bottle of water.
Paganini said nothing and lowered his eyes.
There are at least 30,000 refugees wandering outside the country now, and there are 7,000 in this dilapidated camp alone. Not to mention five pancakes, even if everyone's rations were taken out, it wouldn't be enough to make a living.
Even if everyone in the country squeezes out a little food ration, how much can be saved
Can only turn a deaf ear.
This is not laissez-faire or cruel, but because there are more important things to do and more important values to preserve.
It wasn't until Charles walked towards the refugees with the bread and fish that Paganini stopped him. Not out of confusion or calculation, but as a suggestion from a colleague.
"Ciel, there are times when people are powerless."
He said softly: "Recognize the reality as soon as possible."
Ciel looked back at him and suddenly smiled.
"don’t worry."
He scratched his head and smiled self-deprecatingly: "If I really have that little bit of merit... then I'm probably not a human being."
Paganini was stunned.
Standing in front of the stunned refugees, Ciel stopped.
The hungry refugees looked at him and then at the fish and pancakes in his hands. Their voices suddenly became softer and then louder.
That bit of food seemed to have some incredible magic power, causing the dark and skinny people to move forward, crawling on the ground, gnawing on their fingers, with longing and greedy eyes.
Then they saw Ciel pull out the dagger from his boot.
The cold light of the dagger was like frost, causing the surrounding refugees to stop.
Ciel was silent for a moment, then raised the dagger and cut off a section of his tail finger. There was a sound of bones breaking, and blood flowed from the fingertips. The severed finger fell into the gap between the wheat cakes and pickled fish. It probably passed through the gap and fell to the ground. No one saw it.
The blood fell into the water bottle and dyed the water red, as if it had turned into wine.
The dagger cut off a piece of cloth and bandaged the severed little finger. A smile appeared on Ciel's twitching expression, he bent down and placed the food in his arms on the ground.
"Eat."
He smiled and took a few steps back: "It's not enough."
The voices became noisy.
The skinny victims stared blankly at Charles. The next moment, the crowd surged, like a quagmire boiling. Those people crawled towards the food that fell on the ground, grabbed the bread, stuffed it into their mouths, and swallowed with all their strength. When his throat got stuck, he raised his head and drank the fermented wine.
Ciel took a few steps back and let them feast, his eyes pitiful.
Paganini glanced at it and then withdrew his gaze, his face expressionless, but the hands in his sleeves were trembling uncontrollably.
After a long time, he called the secretary, forced himself to calm down, and suppressed his trembling voice, "In a while... After they finish eating, you go and collect the remaining residue. Don't waste it."
The clerk looked at him blankly, thinking he was joking. Paganini repeated it, and he turned around. After a while, the refugees finished eating, and the clerk came back with twelve baskets full of scraps.
A group of people gathered around the basket, admiring it.
But Paganini didn't look.
He was carrying the crowd and his face was pale.
Damn it, those idiots have no idea what this means...
After hundreds of years, I suddenly felt the urge to pray.
"God..."
He raised his eyes and stared into the empty sky. In his pupils, there was a blazing light, as if the door of heaven was slowly opening, spilling salvation.
That is Eden, the kingdom of heaven created by man.
Like an hallucination, he saw countless dead souls rising slowly and flying into the kingdom of heaven, as if this world really had souls.
It's as if heaven really exists in this world.