Chapter 686 Jacob and Cardinal Loki

Several old elves were discussing, and their voices were getting louder and louder.

A passing elf prisoner carrying a lunch box and wearing triangular luminous shackles on his hands came over curiously to take a look. Then he remembered that today was the day of the Pope's election. "Is it March 3rd already?"

One of the "wardens" glanced at him and said unhappily, "Yeah, have you finished making the twenty sets of Source of Life mixture I asked you to make the day before yesterday?"

"I'm done, I'm done... I'm just about to hand it in..."

"Forget it, Gulamance."

Another old elf advised: "Today is a good day, give them half a day off."

The passing prisoner came over, looked at the message on the screen, and asked curiously, "Is this... the human Pope? Since when did humans have cardinals?"

"—What, the human pope?"

A human prisoner carrying food nearby heard the noise and immediately ran over to join in the fun, "Is there an amnesty? Can you give us amnesty?"

Suddenly, many human prisoners, harpy prisoners, and goblin prisoners also heard the news and wanted to come over to see the news about the new Pope.

"None of your business, go back and eat!"

A young warden shouted harshly, brandishing a whip and driving everyone back. However, the whips didn't strike anyone, just cracking in the air. So the prisoners weren't overly frightened, but instead, they swarmed back, laughing and giggling.

The other wardens didn't get angry. They just drank a cup of tea and watched him drive people away happily.

They discussed leisurely: "It's also good to have a human as Pope. Besides, he's from Avalon... Isn't Avalon our territory?"

"Yes, the people of Avalon are also considered our own."

"Actually, I think Cardinal Galatea is not bad either. After all, they are both members of the Antiquarian Society. But I still support Cardinal Matilda more."

"That's impossible. Cardinal Matilda has a very good relationship with Her Highness the Saint. She will definitely give her ticket to Her Highness the Saint."

"Yes, it would be best if the Saint were elected Pope..."

These old elves, who are over a thousand years old, whispered this.

And in the corner of this floor, there is a place with stricter defense and more closed space.

A young human being wearing a linen robe, with glowing shackles on his hands and feet, and his body covered with silver-white glowing runes, sat quietly at the dining table.

He had red hair - it was the vampire writer Bram Stoker. He looked thinner than before, but more energetic.

At this moment, on his table, there was a bottle of high-quality Xingti red wine.

This is something that cannot normally be provided to prisoners.

Because the person who brought it here sneaked in quietly.

"How's it going, Bram?"

Jacob said with a smile, drinking the barley tea on Bram's table, and then poured him a glass of red wine: "How is life here?"

"I'm telling the truth."

Bram twirled his spaghetti bolognese on his fork and said, "Even prisoners from the Theocracy eat better than the people of Avalon—many times better.

"If those pickpockets on Glass Island who can't find work knew how pickpockets are treated in the Church, they'd probably try to sneak over here by boat."

On his table was a plate of tomato meat sauce noodles and a salad with three kinds of vegetables in oil. This wasn't a special meal for him because of his status, but rather the most standard prisoner meal—today they could even choose from tomato meat sauce noodles, meat pie or sugar pie, or lamb risotto, accompanied by a vegetable salad or mixed stew.

In terms of food quality, it is indeed much better than that of ordinary Avalon people.

What he held in his hand was a gleaming silver metal fork.

The Theocracy didn't worry about prisoners harming themselves or each other, and escape was virtually impossible—those runes could control prisoners at any time, and could also prevent them from instinctively doing or even thinking certain things. Compared to Avalon's authoritarian spells, the Theocracy's authoritarian magic was gentler but more difficult to resist.

"oh?"

Jacob smiled and said, "Is that so...

"...So, compared to the taste of human blood or human flesh, which one tastes better?"

"If possible," the vampire writer Bram didn't look up at Jacob, but his voice gradually became deep, "I would rather... eat your flesh and drink your blood.

"—Jacob Alexander. My old friend."

The next moment, a glowing humanoid creature suddenly appeared behind Jacob.

A strong sense of oppression and a sense of sacred majesty made Bram suddenly raise his head and look at it.

In an instant, he was sweating profusely.

"Hold on, Aiwass."

Jacob said leisurely: "It's enough to scare you."

But he said he was going to kill you

A voice that sounded a little aggrieved and had a mechanically synthesized noise was heard.

"...Is this the benefit of being a dog for Huan Tiansi?"

Bram sarcastically asked, "Master Apostle?"

He raised his head, his pupils turning into a flame.

The originally sharp and arrogant voice of Bram became low and magnetic, completely inconsistent with his slender appearance at the moment.

"You misunderstood me, Cardinal Loki."

Jacob said leisurely, "'Evans' was something I created while I was alive... I only used it after my death."

"'Evans'... Huh. This thing has the same name as your grandson. Is it a swamp man made from fragments of his soul?"

“Just scraps.”

Jacob smiled slightly and pushed up his monocle.

That youthful appearance made him seem to have returned to the past and become that reporter.

"…scraps? Whose scraps?"

"Shouldn't you know this, Cardinal Loki, the all-knowing one? This is naturally the leftover material for Aiwass. I was given some raw materials, but I only used a portion to create Aiwass. As for the rest... I can't return it."

Jacob smiled and said, "In our human terminology, this is called 'fire consumption'. This part of the scraps is mine."

"snort."

Bram scoffed and remained noncommittal.

He gradually retreated and turned back into Bram again.

"Don't leave in a hurry."

Jacob began to speak, boasting gently, "Did you know that my grandson became Pope?"

"Oh, I can guess."

Bram paused, then raised his head again, a sea of ​​fire reflected in his pupils once again.

But his smile was sarcastic: "Or rather, that's one of my backup plans."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Whether you're the Pope or you're killed by Aiwass... whether you're alive or dead, you can always go with the flow and get some benefits. It's really a Moriarty-style layout and planning." Jacob said happily.

"You're rebelling, Jacob. He learned it from me. How can a father be like his son?" A small piece of Loki's consciousness hidden in "Bram" said with a sneer.

"oh?"

Jacob smiled slightly: “Are you really sure, this is your plan?

"Could it be possible... that all this was Moriarty's plan? From the very beginning, you didn't have 'so many choices'. That future, filled with countless possibilities, was reduced to only one by the time Aiwass arrived.

“All this is inevitable.

"As if I would appear here, and you..."

Jacob smiled, reached out and grabbed the silver fork in Bram's hand, allowing his skin to be pierced.

“—will serve me as your Lord.

"Taste, I am the Eucharist... This is mercy."

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(End of this chapter)