There was not much blood flowing from the right arm of the black-armored warrior. He froze in place like a stone statue, an uncomfortable red light glowing from the gap in his helmet.
"Wait, I remember your taste," Nemo said, taking two more steps. From this distance Oliver could see his eyes—silver-gray eyes that shimmered pale in the night, like a full moon behind clouds, or a pearly ghost. His pupils are no longer the standard circles of human beings, but split in four directions, turning into the unique crosses of demons. "You live near the gravity labyrinth, I think... Witherspoon?"
Black Armored Warrior - Witherspoon took a small step back again without saying a word.
It wasn't that Witherspoon didn't want to talk, he even wanted to scream. Oliver Ramon is only human, and naturally cannot understand the fear etched in the souls of demons—if they really have souls.
Even if the demon kings of each generation are very different, when they unreservedly show their hostility, the superior demons will never admit their mistakes. It is not a simple sense of oppression, but the heavy terror brought by the natural enemies. That cold sense of terror gnawed at his nerves, biting at the flesh and blood attached to this human body. His tongue was numb with fear, and his mind seemed frozen, not even remembering how to breathe. He instinctively wanted to run away, but he didn't want to reveal his back at all, like a fledgling bird trying to raise its feathers in front of a predator - Witherspoon just stood there, moving back a little bit awkwardly, even if He subconsciously knew it was just a futile struggle.
But this is clearly impossible. Everyone knows that the monster can't leave the bottom of the abyss at all.
"A suggestion." Nemo raised his hand and spoke lightly, as if to discuss the supper menu with the Black Armored Warrior. "Don't get too close to Della Lane, that little guy has a personality problem."
Witherspoon and Oliver stared at the hand.
Nemo, however, did not attack. He made a simple gesture—he raised his hand slightly toward the sky, a small movement, more like repelling mosquitoes than casting a spell. No spells, no complex circles, not even any dazzling brilliance.
Then the sky cracked.
It may not be accurate to say that it is cracked - the space was torn apart by a huge crack, as if the sky above their heads was just the painted inside of the eggshell, and at this moment the fragile shell cracked a gap, revealing the hell on the other side. Inside the crack, the crimson fire was bright and dark, and from time to time there were huge creatures swimming through the gap, or peeping out of the gap with weird pupils.
"Time to go home," Nemo announced, with no condescending sarcasm or cold anger in his voice. "That's fair—it's self-defense. Get a good night's sleep, Witherspoon, that'll be good for you."
He flashed ghostly in front of the black-armored warrior from about ten steps away from them, stretched out his hand and pushed down the opponent's breastplate. The air was suddenly twisted into water-like ripples, and with a piercing roar, Witherspoon was instantly knocked into the air, and then the shadows caught him unceremoniously—this time, the shadows no longer appeared out of thin air, a huge crack Like a ferocious fresh wound, dark and sticky shadows are dripping from the edges. They devoured Witherspoon's figure like living creatures and flowed back into the crack.
Everything is at peace.
The terrifying crack in the space was still wide open, and a low and strange scream came from it, the fire was burning among the stars, and the ashes fell from the night sky, like the snow on a winter night. Nemo withdrew his hand and looked down at Oliver, who was lying on the side.
Oliver Ramon knew he was about to die.
During the battle just now, Oliver's arms were already rotten to the point where flesh and broken bones were a mess. In addition to the unstoppable blood on his arms, red blood also poured out from the wound on his abdomen. There was a deep bruise on his forehead, and the blood stained his handsome face a little horribly.
Oliver grabbed the air with difficulty.
He was facing the huge crack, the dark blue night sky with burning cracks embedded in it, the ashes floating on his eyelashes, not melting like a real snowflake. They made his vision a little blurry, and everything in front of him seemed like a dream.
Nemo stopped in front of him and leaned down slightly. With his back to the firelight, Oliver couldn't see his expression for a moment, only those inhuman pupils that flickered. He didn't restrain his momentum, Oliver couldn't help coughing twice, the sweet smell of blood filled his throat - it felt as if a mountain was about to be crushed.
With a little strength left, Oliver thought dimly. He could move around like Witherspoon to try to get away, or cry for help... or ask for mercy.
Nemo just stared at him like that, not doing or saying anything, seemingly lost in thought.
Oliver's consciousness began to blur. He raised his head slightly, staring at the familiar companion in front of him and the brilliant fire behind him. He subconsciously decided how to use the last few strengths - he used all his strength and smiled at the other party.
The next moment, a pair of warm hands held his face.
Nemo knelt down beside Oliver, supported his head with both hands, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to the wound on the other's forehead. Black shadows dripping from cracks gathered from all directions, flowing over Oliver's shapeless arms and running over the wound in his abdomen. They were light and cold, not gentle, but razor-sharp pain.
The broken bones of the part where the shadow had crawled came back into place, the skin grew, and all the hideous wounds were closed. The intact skin touched the moist air, and the feeling of being alive returned to him again. Oliver found that he had the strength to move again, but he didn't want to move now.
"You didn't run away." Nemo stood up and wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand. "… thanks."
Oliver could finally see the other person's expression—it seemed to be someone he knew, and Nemo's face was a mixture of relief, relief, and a little bit of joy. Oliver stretched out his right hand that no longer bleeds and became intact, and stroked Nemo's cheek as if to confirm something. The warmth of life came from his fingertips, and he unconsciously pulled the corners of his mouth into a more obvious arc.
"You're welcome." His voice was clear, even though the terrifying sense of oppression still crushed his brain. "It's me who should say thank you."
Nemo froze for a moment, then smiled back at him.
Oliver suddenly felt his heart skip a beat. For a moment he couldn't even tell what it meant—his brain was screaming danger now, and instinctual timidity made his hair stand on end. Anxiety and tension stabbed into his back like a steel needle, but he just couldn't look away.
The ashes continued to fall like snowflakes, building up a thin layer of ash on the sand. The flame on the other side of the crack was so ominous, but it filled his vision with light, and everything sparkled.
Just like a summer day a few years ago.
"You rejected Susanna outright?!" the memory of his father yelled at him, "God, Oliver, how could you hurt a lady's heart so much?"
"She is indeed a lovely girl, but..."
"How dare you but? God, how did I teach you? Be euphemistic, Ollie, you have to be euphemistic, not 'I don't have any feelings for you'!"
"There are a lot of lovely people in this world, Dad. I can't have a crush on everyone. You're still not with your mother... You're telling me how to fall in love with someone? Stop talking about 'she's the most beautiful woman in the world' 'She'll make your world lose its colour and food lose its flavour' - at least I can't understand that feeling."
Piper's face tensed, he put back the shoe he had just grabbed in his hand, and his expression became serious.
"Listen well then." He sighed and looked away. "She may not be good, she may not be beautiful. You may have a lot of arguments and frictions, and even be disappointed with each other from time to time. But there will be a moment when the view of that person will be unparalleled - you will know , you'll never see anything more beautiful than that in your life."
"Love doesn't necessarily mean total acceptance or self-sacrifice. Ollie. But it definitely makes you want to live more."
is that so
Oliver lowered his arms.
At this very moment, he was blindly convinced that he would never see such a beautiful and terrifying sight for the rest of his life. He could still feel the residual warmth left by the other person's hand, and that warmth made him very-very want to live for a moment.
Nemo remained in a half-kneeling position when suddenly his body swayed and he let out a painful gasp. The cross-shaped pupils began to shrink, returning to human appearance, and the slightly flickering silver light also extinguished. The cracks in the space across the starry sky quickly closed, except for a place of ashes, nothing could prove that it ever existed.
"Oliver, I..." He panted laboriously, digging his fingers into the blood-soaked grit.
"You..." Oliver was still in a trance, too many emotions were mixed together, he didn't know how to deal with them. "How are you?"
"I'm not good, I'm very bad!" Nemo exclaimed. "You saw what I just did? Did I look good?"
"Do you remember?"
"Remember!... I remember part of it." Nemo murmured softly, "It's like a dream, I understand everything in a dream, and that feeling is completely gone when I wake up."
"But I do remember what I said and what I did... Now I can even do this." He reached out, black flames blazing at Nemo's fingertips, making his face pale.
"At least now we can all be sure of one thing - Oliver, I don't seem to be human. And maybe it's the kind of dangerous..." Nemo couldn't find a suitable term that wouldn't make him uncomfortable, so he stopped awkwardly. sentence.
"Oh." Oliver lay solemnly on the ground and stretched out his hand. "Anyway, do me a favor and give me a hand - I'm in a mess right now, and I'm not in the mood to stand up by myself."
Nemo's grief was so thoroughly disturbed that he rolled his eyes and pulled Oliver off the dune.
"Go ahead," Nemo bowed his head, with a courage akin to dying with generosity. "speak out."
"What?" Oliver raised his eyebrows.
"...Don't you have any thoughts? Just say what you want to say, or I... uh, I'll think we can act together in the future."
"Okay?" Oliver said absently, brushing the ashes from the other's black hair. "I promised you before, didn't I? I'm not really scared of you because of what you're 'what'—that statement still holds true."
Perhaps too effective, Oliver stared at the ashes glued to his knuckles.
Not only did he not want to run away, he even wanted to travel longer with the other party. The sense of oppression has long since disappeared, and his heartbeat has not slowed down because of this, but has become more rapid. Something went wrong, Oliver wiped the ashes from his hands and sighed inwardly - he must be crazy.
,Wonderful!
(m.. = )