In the backyard of the hotel there is a giant sequoia that is astonishingly thick. It was so high that it could pierce the sky, and thanks to it, the Ramon family's hotel was particularly easy to find.
Piper Ramon was sitting under the tree, fiddling with the ukulele and humming the song "The Beautiful Sandra." The afternoon sun passed around the leaves and cast a spot of light, and the breeze was full of the fragrance of lazy plants.
Oliver, on the other hand, held a wooden sword and laboriously chopped the thick wooden stake in front of him.
"No," his father stopped humming and scratched his chin. "It's so boring, you have to find a belief that won't be shaken - otherwise the spell won't work."
"Unshakable Faith?" How old was he at the time? Oliver thought groggyly, eight years old? nine years old
"It's something you'll never doubt yourself," Piper put a grape in his mouth, "such as your father and me, back then... Forget it. In short, once a swordsman begins to deny his will, everything will be over. It's over."
"I don't want to be a swordsman."
"Dad just wants to teach you some life-saving moves. If you're not interested, you can learn something else." Piper Ramon winked, a smile on the corner of his mouth. "Don't think too much, son. No one says you have to be a swordsman. What do you think of the ukulele, do you want to learn it?"
"Who would be interested in such a thing," murmured young Oliver, "what's the point of chopping wood stakes."
Piper couldn't hold back his smile. "What's wrong with chopping the stakes?"
"The guests said something about the outside world." Oliver dropped the wooden sword and wiped the sweat on his neck with his sleeve. "Those very powerful heroes, everyone killed a lot-"
"What do you want to kill?" His father put down the ukulele in his arms, and there was a rare lack of emotion in his voice.
Oliver was stunned, he hadn't thought about this at all. Guests would talk about heroes, bards would sing about legends, and the great warriors in the stories sounded terribly handsome—there was always an excess of appeal to the little ones.
"Devils, monsters..." he answered uncertainly, "are there any bad guys?"
"To be a 'hero'?" Piper Ramon raised an eyebrow.
"For justice!" The little boy's voice was loud, as if it were the unshakable truth.
He still remembered his father's expression at that time.
Oliver didn't understand the meaning of that expression at the time, he only remembered that his father smiled at him. Now that smile looks familiar, it reappears in their final farewell—
A bitter, sad but gentle smile.
What was the father's answer at that time? Oliver couldn't remember, all he knew was that after the last lesson, he never picked up the sword again.
Oliver suddenly panicked. He realized that if he really couldn't recall it, the answer would be completely gone. He has no one to ask and confirm. Those trivial, irrelevant memories have now become invaluable things - but when he doesn't care, they have long been blurred, and there are not many left.
The fact that my father is dead has never been clearer.
At that time he would have learned the ukulele from his father...
Then he realized that the sourness in his mouth was not from his feelings, but something tangible, something outside. His head was clearer, and the whole person fell from the erratic warm dream, smashing into the damn reality.
The first thing Oliver did when he regained consciousness was to frown desperately.
"You're awake." Nemo Wright looked down at him and smiled apologetically. "I can't help it. The water in the forest is not very clean, and the Thoreau fruit is a little sour... But you have to drink something."
Oliver blinked and woke up completely. It was dawn, the green leaves in the sun were charming and harmless, and the chirping of birds was melodious and pleasant. He tried to sit up, but all the muscles in his body screamed in disapproval. His left leg, which was scratched by the wolf hunter, was simply bandaged, and the terrifying wound was covered with sackcloth, but it was still burning and painful, and it was abnormally swollen. His body was heavy and sore, and he couldn't even clench his fists.
So Oliver had no choice but to lie down and look at the people sitting beside him.
Old Wright's orphanage and the town's library are on the east side of the town, while his family's hotel is on the west edge of the town. They rarely meet, let alone have any friendship. But Oliver was impressed with this guy—
Strictly speaking, it was not Piper Ramon who found Nemo in the Frontier Woods, but six-year-old Oliver. He had a big quarrel with his father, and ran into the border forest in a fit of anger, trying to get angry with his unreliable father. The sun was high at the time, and he was just strolling on the edge of the woods, thinking he was safe.
Oliver still remembers how it felt at that time.
He was hiding behind a tree and peeking in the direction of the town in case his father caught him while he wasn't looking. Suddenly, there was a chill on the back, and the whole person's hair stood up.
Something is spying on him.
The little boy turned around quickly, his back against the tree, and swallowed nervously. He saw the thing at a glance - it was squatting on the ground, its long hair tangled in a lot of dead vines, grass stalks and indistinguishable dirt, covering its entire body. The eyes exposed in the gap of its hair stared straight at him—the only thing on it that could be called clean, except that there was no emotion in the silver-gray pupils.
Oliver did what all six-year-olds do in fear - he opened his throat and cried.
The thing seemed to be frightened too, huddled in place, motionless. Piper Ramon, who was looking for his son, rushed over when he heard the cry and took them back together.
Really... shameless.
Out of this subtle psychology, and there is really no need to communicate, they tacitly maintained a state of nodding.
In the end, more than ten years later, he was still in the border forest with those silver-gray eyes. They hilariously went back to where they started.
In all fairness, Nemo Wright was pretty good-looking—he didn't look much like Al himself, with a sturdy physique and a somewhat aristocratic pallor in his skin. A black hair is always a little messy, and it is casually tied into a short ponytail at the back of the head, and the tail is curled up in all directions. Silver-gray pupils can easily make people look sullen, but this person always has a smile on his face, and his eyes are beautiful, turning shyness into a casual elegance.
Very popular with girls.
If he hadn't been pulling four or five children like an old hen for a long time, he would have received a wagon bouquet at the Rose Festival. Oliver commented impartially in his heart.
However, Mr. Wright's situation is not very good at the moment. His body was covered in blood and mud, and the left half of his sleeve disappeared, revealing his arm directly. Luckily it didn't appear to be seriously injured.
But Oliver remembered how he screamed last night.
He was about to open his mouth to ask a question when Nemo grabbed another thorrow and squeezed all the juice into his mouth. Oliver's face wrinkled even more, so sour that he couldn't say a word.
"Are you still thirsty?" Nemo picked up a fruit again, with a child-like gentle expression on his face.
Oliver shook his head desperately.
Nemo shrugged and took the small packet of butter out of his bag. After carefully removing the blood from it, he shoved it indiscriminately into Oliver's mouth.
"The wolf hunter didn't catch up," he said. "It's safe here for now...probably."
"That puppy is dead." The grey parrot finally learned to fly - it grabbed a thorrow fruit with its paws, and threw it on Oliver's face before releasing it. Oliver suspected that it was practicing aiming. "Looks like you're still useful."
Nemo caught the fruit that hit the bridge of Oliver's nose with one hand, and skillfully picked up the grey parrot with the other hand and threw it aside. The swelling in the right wrist disappeared without a trace.
"The blinding technique lasted most of the night." Nemo continued, "I didn't dare to stay any longer, I kept dragging you forward... It didn't catch up, and it might have been seriously injured."
"It was chopped to death by this gingerbread head." The grey parrot used its beak to manage its feathers, and seemed to be getting more and more used to being a bird.
"He has a name, Oliver Ramon, not 'Gingerbread Head.'" Nemo rolled his eyes. "Like I'm Nemo Wright, not 'Once-In-Hundred Stupid'. You're wrong again, I'll take all your hair off."
"Your injury?" The butter melted in his mouth, and the sour taste was finally not so unbearable, Oliver said quickly. "Last night I heard you... um, yelling."
"I don't know either." Nemo scratched his head, his hair was covered in blood clots, and he looked uncomfortable. "Maybe I got lucky and my arm got stuck between its teeth."
"Bullshit!" cried the grey parrot, "I know where my power is going, come come, cut your hand off—"
Nemo directly threw the fruit in his hand at the damn bird.
"Why are you so irritable," the parrot said dissatisfiedly, "that's my strength."
After that, it dived and grabbed two blood marks on the back of Nemo's hand. Nemo took a breath from between his teeth.
The next moment, under the gaze of two people and one bird, the wound healed quickly—except for a small amount of blood that remained on the skin, it seemed like it had never appeared before.
"Look!" Parrot triumphantly. "Next time you can try your head, maybe it will grow too—"
Nemo rubbed his temples with a blood-stained face, not seeming to be happy about it.
Oliver was not surprised. Even with a wound of this magnitude, a skilled human healer can make such an effect. Even if Nemo was really lucky and gained the ability to regenerate his limbs, it wouldn't be of much use to him who didn't have the ability to fight - it's like giving a whole box of gold coins to someone who is dying of thirst in the desert, the opponent will never do it. And grateful.
"Oh." Sure enough, Nemo responded without enthusiasm. "Oliver, can you still stand up?"
"Sorry," Oliver responded apologetically, "I can't move much."
Nemo stretched his arms. "I'll carry you." He said simply, "You're burning a little bit badly, and you need to find someone to treat the wound as soon as possible."
"No need..." Before Oliver could finish speaking, he found that his upper body was pulled up. "… in a hurry."
"Hold my neck, don't be embarrassed." Nemo said generously, "It's okay, I can hold it—you didn't leave me, and I certainly won't leave you."
To be honest, they were about the same size, but Oliver was a little bigger. Oliver was terribly worried that he would push Nemo directly to the ground, but it turned out that Mr. Wright still had some strength - he stood up in one breath, shook it twice, and then walked steadily forward. He even paid attention to the wound on Oliver's left leg the whole time, and didn't touch it at all.
"It's a bit of a relationship with the devil anyway. It's not that easy to get tired." Nemo said, Oliver could feel the vibration in his chest as he spoke. "Just keep going west, okay?"
"Yes." Oliver rested his chin on the other's shoulder to avoid being poked in the face by Nemo's short ponytail. At this moment, the black hair was still covered with reddish-brown blood stains, exuding the unique stench of corrupt blood.
"And that bird..." Oliver said again, not shy about the parrots that were flying around. "It shouldn't be a superior demon."
"uh-huh."
"The people who contract with the superior demons are not demon believers, they are called demon warlocks." Oliver continued, "There was one in my hotel before. I heard from my father that demon warlocks always have a part of their body that becomes alien. "
"Maybe I have a bow on my intestines." Nemo smiled bitterly. "Thank you for your comfort. It doesn't matter, I'm still a long way from collapse."
"It's not that kind of alien." Oliver sighed slightly. "Let's put it this way, like the one who stayed at the hotel last time. He has extra joints in both arms, so long that it drags on the ground. His chest is covered with insect-like feet. , like a rib poking out... It is said that it is a relatively normal appearance among demon warlocks."
Unfortunately, the instructions backfired - Nemo shuddered twice, visibly, and slowed down.
"Devil believers are completely different." Oliver added quickly, "They will only get a little bit of power from ordinary demons, and their physical appearance will not change."
This time Nemo breathed a long sigh of relief.
"Thank you, I feel better." He turned his face slightly, his tone very sincere.
"I don't feel good at all," said the grey parrot. "You are slander."
Too bad no one cares about it.
"What do we do next?" Nemo murmured. "Do you have any ideas?"
"I've never left Alban," Oliver replied dryly, "I heard from the Garland merchant that the border city's entry inspection is quite strict. As for how long it takes them to exchange information on criminals... I don't know. "
"I haven't even been out of Signpost." Nemo tried to sound optimistic. "But we've both been unlucky like this, and good luck should always come, right?"
Oliver chuckled. A little cold, he thought wearily. Nemo doesn't look too bad, so it's okay to rest a little longer—
With a strange sense of reassurance, he lost consciousness again.
On the other side of the forest, the roadsign garrison fell silent in front of Ratliff Hunt's body.
It stands to reason that no corpse of any creature can survive the night in the frontier forest, even a dragon corpse would have to be bitten twice. But the wolf hunter's corpse, which gave off a strong bloody smell, was not missing a single hair. The frost has not disappeared everywhere, and there is still a slight chill in the summer sun. Trees staggered on the edge of the frost, standard disaster scene.
A soldier tore out a bloody thing from the wolf hunter's mouth, like the remains of a human arm.
"Sir, there are no fresh human corpses nearby." The white light that detected magic disappeared, and another soldier saluted and reported aloud.
"Look at this," the garrison commander of Roadmark Town lowered his face, "which bastard said last night that it's okay to handle it according to 'exceptional'?"
The soldiers looked at each other, then bowed their heads in unison. Everyone lives in a town and knows a little bit about other people. What kind of power can the innkeeper's son and the library staff have
Being involved with demons is a capital crime, and a wolf hunter is more than enough to deal with two unruly ordinary people, and even a bit overkill. It's just that the wolf hunter was so hungry last night that they gave it instructions in the mind of wanting to feed it.
However it never came back. When they realized that it was wrong and used the spell to locate it again, its signs of life had long since disappeared.
"Raise the wanted level of those two people to 'Dangerous'." The captain ordered, rubbing the wolf hunter's fur distressedly, and then tore off the silver medal with the positioning circle engraved on its neck. "Oliver Ramon, a murderer of unknown strength. Nemo Wright... He is not a suspected demon believer, and he will be dealt with directly as a demon believer."
He picked up the bloody arm, whose clothing fragments had the embroidery characteristic of library uniforms.
"Those two bastards are trickier than we thought. Notify Garland immediately without delay."
,Wonderful!
(m.. = )