Chapter 97

"Based on this confession, I will add the charge of eating souls to the charges I report to the cathedral."

Amara turned her head away from the monster, still maintaining an indifferent attitude.

"I didn't eat it." Niebu suddenly became fussy, "'I' am just the river formed by the souls of all people after death. I have also been given the most orthodox name. It is more legitimate for me to apply to be a bishop than you."

"Crack." Amara silently split another piece of wood. The frozen firewood rolled to both sides of the stump, hitting the debris under the snow, making a ping-pong sound that could be heard far away in the silent snowy day.

Nie Bo watched the snowflakes falling on the gray hair and thin linen shoulders of the Wing Clan. Suddenly, he reached out and picked up a twisted and useless branch, letting it sprout again in his hand and glow with new life.

The tender branches and leaves are arranged in a perfect round shape, forming a beautiful umbrella, and the emerald green in the snow looks like a pleasant miracle.

There are even two circles of pink and purple flowers on the surface of the umbrella cover, which are arranged so neatly that they look like flower arrangements, which seems to prove that this monster has some obsessive-compulsive disorder.

"Many people in the church are jealous of you. They are worried that you have ambitions to become a bishop or even go further because you have enough dedication and reputation for the church. So they say that you are tainted with too much killing and are not suitable to be a pure and loving leading pastor."

"Are you going to kill me—just to get an undeniable credit?" the monster whispered as he approached, holding the branch like an umbrella.

"I have no idea about the bishop. It is my job to eliminate evil. If you keep talking, I don't mind taking action immediately." Amara denied with a cold face. No matter how firm he was, he had to refute this accusation.

"But the people I killed were all bad guys, right? You must have known that if you investigated it yourself, sir."

"Murder and law enforcement do not mix."

"Like you and me?"

"Exactly."

The beautiful umbrella fell to the ground with a small amount of snow that had just accumulated, and the long sword narrowly brushed past a strand of black hair.

"Don't forget that this is not reality," Nirvana dodged the attack and said, "Our life, death and freedom are all decided by 'her'... Are you sure you want to kill 'me' here?"

There was a hidden meaning in these words. However, Amara had never seen the original owner of this face, so even if she heard it, she couldn't guess the key point. She just stopped attacking temporarily and asked with the sword raised:

"Where are your weapons?"

"How can the things that kill gods be used to decide the life and death of ants?"

"So even the dragons that can suppress you are also members of the ants?" Amara was used to hearing this kind of self-made crazy talk from delusional fanatics, and she had never been fooled for a moment, so she asked with a sneer.

Judging from the opponent's reaction, it was a very accurate prediction.

"Well, there is actually one more step to go... but are you sure you want to listen?"

"I will bring all the information back to the temple truthfully."

"I won't tell you." Niebu said roguely, but at the same time motioned him to look behind him - the black wooden door leading to the yard had been quietly opened a very small gap, and behind the gap appeared a pair of low-set blue eyes with a color brighter than in reality.

Even as the children secretly watched her, Amara calmly put away her sword.

After all, with his usual style of action, this Excellency has always only valued life safety, and does not know or care about the emotional health of the weak. If the victims and the people are afraid, it is of course the fault of the evildoers. He is maintaining peace in the name of the church, and there is no need to carry a weapon and hide it.

"She's awake." Amara said with some confusion. The lich and the monster had mentioned "don't wake her up", so since Xiaoman was the core of the mutation that turned the surrounding environment into a snowy scene, shouldn't she be conscious now?

"Not yet." Nirvana replied briefly.

So Amara picked up the umbrella-like branch, placed it neatly on the pile of firewood she had chopped and stacked, shook the snow off her shoulders, and went back to the house.

"It's okay, ma'am. You're very kind to take me in. It's really not right to use your winter food." Niebu was infinitely friendlier to others than he was to Amara, and he spoke nicely. As he spoke, he pushed his share of the hot soup that the lady had tried so hard to make to Xiaoman, who looked only six or seven years old.

"When the snow stops, we'll go hunting in the afternoon and exchange our catch for food. Everything will be fine."

Amara listened and looked up at Nebuchadnezzar. She seemed to be surprised that the monster had the ability to disguise itself so closely like a human being. She was trying to confirm whether this guy had been replaced.

But hot soup on a snowy day is indeed a good thing. The Winged Tribe’s silver-gray eyes, which were always as cold as ice to the touch, were hidden behind the white mist, and he seemed to have become a lot gentler.

Xiaoman's mother was still nearly ten years away from death. Although her body was not as strong as that of an orc, she was still able to walk around. Compared to Amara who was carrying a standard long sword, she was more natural towards Nirvana who seemed to be unarmed. Perhaps because of their same eye color, she wanted to test whether he was also a disabled person.

"Yes, everything will be fine. You two should be good friends." She said with a smile. The young Xiaoman was more taciturn and introverted than later. He sat quietly beside his mother and observed everything carefully with his blue eyes.

Her hands were under the wooden table, but the three adults could see that she was holding something.

——The little fox made of snow standing in the half plate had not melted yet under the protection of magic. It stayed quietly in the child's palm, looking smart and happy.

"Well, we are just working together temporarily. If you must say it, it is the kind of relationship where we are very close. I have known him for a long time." Niebu said.

“…”

Amara didn't say anything, just slowly drank the hot soup and let the pleasantries continue. Because Yuan Qian was really shocked by this "heartfelt" thing.

As the comics are serialized now, he has to be responsible for more and more readers and comic book authors with whom he has never had any contact but has a certain cooperative relationship. Therefore, every step he takes is carefully considered, and of course he often refers to the opinions of his teammates in the process.

After all, this fake system teammate at least supports and tries his best, never beats around the bush when it comes to serious topics, and is very reliable except for being a little crazy and suddenly acting out when he feels like it. And no matter how he slacks off, with his habit of helping poor girls get revenge everywhere, the experience accumulated by an immortal seed must be deeper than Yuan Qian himself.

Therefore, the adjutant was the first person to know about the several possible endings for Amara that Yuan Qian had imagined.

Later they left the old house and headed back towards the snowy mountains.

After walking a short distance, Amara suddenly turned around with the sword in her hand.

The tip of the sword forced Nie Bo to retreat step by step until his back touched the tree trunk.

Keeping this posture, Ama spoke:

"I have many questions that need answers. If you answer truthfully and accept the Temple's constraints, then we don't have to fight each other. - The Oracle did say that you are not the Temple's enemy. This is why."

"I thought smashing the clock would keep you angry forever." Niebu said unexpectedly.

"The temple can still distinguish between crisis and loss." Amara had a stern face, and he seemed to hate this kind of stereotype. But it was precisely because of this that he proved that he was the kind of person who would get angry when he saw an offense to the temple.

"What a pity... I won't tell you here. This is her world. As for after you get out, unfortunately, there will be no chance." Niebu said in his usual mysterious tone.

"Do you have to keep resisting?" Amara couldn't help but look puzzled.

Because the sense of actual contact is clearer than the impression brought by any intelligence, he has personally executed and hunted down countless villains, including killing a brave but blood-addicted compatriot who endangered the people on the battlefield, or a general who governed a certain place, or a rebel leader.

Now, even if there is only a short period of cooperation and compromise, the Templar Sword can still believe that Nirvana is different from those people. Xiaoman can draw the conclusion through observation, and Amara, who has lived longer and seen more evil people, will also quickly realize it.

"Okay, then it's one question for one answer, but you only get one chance."

"...What is your purpose in doing all this?" Amaral paused, but the question he asked was not about how to escape from the predicament.

"——Kill our Father God."

The monster raised his hand to grab the sword to prevent Amara from retracting it, and then answered.

He had black hair, with faint hints of dark purple in it, and he looked calmly into T Falcon's penetrating silver-gray eyes, which made Amara deeply understand that the seriousness in his expression was not directed towards any "person", but rather out of his undeniable and genuine respect for the great god he was about to kill.

"It's my turn next. I'll be frank. This is also the key to how we get out."

Amara moved her fingers slightly, but the other party still showed no intention of letting go of the sword.

"If your temple allows me to take Xiaoman away and throw her heart into the furnace...will you obey or betray me?"

Obeying the orders of the temple means sacrificing a child's life, and disobeying the temple is tantamount to betraying all one's efforts and persistence since one was born.

Which one should I choose? How should I choose?

This is a really poisoned question.

The Winged Clan's pupils trembled.

Templar Sword, no longer young and energetic but with a lifelong faith, faced this purely hypothetical question and knew that he should rebuke it as absurd, but somewhere deep in his heart, the cracks in his faith were like spider webs and had existed for many years, and could not withstand any heavy blow.

He suddenly remembered a question from a fanatic: if the church was united, why did the poor get poorer and the rich get richer over the past few hundred years? The church received offerings from the rich to repair the statues and temples, and received offerings from the poor. The warriors it raised would hunt down the poor who had no other choice but to steal sick babies to sacrifice to the gods in order to survive. Why didn't it point its sword at the rich?

Amara will not be shaken by these extreme remarks, and she has always known that inequality is a companion to happiness.

However, the desperate fanatic was indeed a poor man, a beastman who was still favored by the natural elements, and even a devout believer of the Father of Starlight. It was just that fate had not been kind to him and made him go astray.

If he hadn't made a mistake, this kind of person would have been one of the most standard people that Amara had protected throughout her life. Therefore, Amara remembered the despair of the sick and frail face, the grievances and restless madness that he cried to the saint, especially clearly.

The Temple is a huge organization...it will not be completely correct all the time, and no one can guarantee or do it.

The saint holding the sword wanted to explain himself in this way, but he was unable to speak in front of the aggregate of the dead souls in front of him.

The world is made up of mostly poor people, and of course the dead are no exception. Even though Nirvana has demonstrated qualified conversation and aesthetics, and is fully capable of sneaking into noble gatherings and becoming a celebrity, Amara still recognizes the look hidden deep in those eyes.

Such eyes could never come from a pampered person.

It is based on the confusion of restlessness and displacement day and night, the deep understanding of difficulties and the desire for the right to survive that those of higher class enjoy by right is its skeleton, the endless hatred born from the misery of suicide spreads wildly, filling all the gaps like flesh and blood, and finally shaping a dead and cold quagmire that looks like a plain, with poisonous snakes hiding in the mud that choose their prey.

In this case, it would be extremely reasonable to say that he wanted to drag everything down with him to destruction.

"...I won't let you take her, or anyone else, for that matter."

This was Amara's final answer.

His voice suddenly dropped, like an old sculpture that had had its new white clay and plaster washed off, revealing its withered and weathered features, tired and dejected.

"This is what I stand for all my life. This is what I believe is justice."

Even if it is contrary to the judgment of the temple, and it is later proved that I am the foolish and short-sighted one...but this persistence and long-cherished wish to protect every life I see will not change.

With the sound of falling snow, the monster gently let go of the sword in its palm.

"I hope you can fulfill your promise and don't let her down." Nirvana said as the scenery gradually changed from the mountains to the Holy City.