Chapter 206
...
Bright sunlight streamed through the church's stained-glass windows, casting dappled patterns of color on the floor.
The church doors were tightly shut, there was no wind, and the air was stuffy.
He stood there for a long time, cold sweat dripping from his forehead and sticking to his cheeks, making him feel sticky and uncomfortable.
There were many children around him, dressed in small white clothes just like him, with their hands obediently behind their backs.
Some shrank back, heads bowed, too afraid to look him in the eye. Others were indifferent, even gloating.
He heard a lot of whispers from the front. He looked up and saw important figures in suits sitting on high seats, their faces obscured.
Only the cold, scrutinizing gaze in his eyes was so clear, looking down at him like a branding iron, interrogating him.
“Hill”.
That's what some people call him.
A heavy gaze pressed down on him, and a fine layer of sweat seemed to seep from his forehead and back.
He listened in a daze to what the man said and asked next.
I can understand each word individually, but the meaning of their combination is difficult to grasp.
My mind is a mess, my chest is pounding. Sweat drips into my eyes, stinging. Everyone's faces have turned into a jumble of colors, shifting and swaying erratically.
He can't take it anymore.
I'm going crazy.
Stop talking.
Shut up.
In a split second, he seemed to hear the man utter an unacceptable word, his eyes widening suddenly as he screamed, "No!"
"I don't want to!"
The pent-up emotions finally erupted!
My feet are itchy, my hands are itchy, and there's no part of my body that doesn't itch.
His anger transformed into a horn that awakened the demons; something emerged from beneath his skin, long and winding, a vast expanse of lush green, baring its fangs and claws at everyone.
At that moment, he saw everyone's expression suddenly change, whether they were watching with amusement or criticizing, all of them turned into an inescapable fear.
The crowd was noisy and chaotic, and many people were running backwards.
Immediately afterwards, a semi-transparent barrier suddenly appeared on both sides of him, facing the crowd.
Guards in protective suits rushed forward, their black gun barrels pointed at him.
The important figures clutched their rapidly heaving chests, pointed their fingers at his nose, and angrily berated him.
"I knew it!"
"Look! This is the savior you all talk about!"
"Too dangerous, he must be locked up! No! Send him to—"
Bang!
The church door was kicked open from the outside and slammed heavily against the wall.
The wind howled into the church, dispelling the heat, and a boy not much older than him strode in, accompanied by the wind.
The sun blazed brightly outside, and the boy's expression was obscured by the backlight. His chest was embroidered with the ancient Greek numeral "one," and his pure white robes, embroidered with gold, fluttered and shone like the wings of a god in the sunlight.
The guard shouted that it was dangerous and tried to stop the boy, but was stunned by the look in the boy's eyes.
The boy continued without stopping, casually pulling the black muzzle of the gun pointed at him upwards, disappearing into the barrier, and finally arriving in front of him.
"Put your claws back," the boy said coldly.
How is this person's scrutinizing gaze any different from that of those who dislike him?
He thought.
However, by the time he realized what was happening, all the ferocious little green monsters had already shrunk back and quietly curled up under his skin.
He no longer felt the pain and itching that had tormented him every moment, like a persistent, bone-deep ailment.
The noisy and flustered children quieted down, seemingly reassured by the boy's arrival.
The young man went straight to the high seat and asked one of the important figures about the situation. The more he listened, the darker his expression became. Then he looked at him.
The moment his eyes met the boy's, he couldn't help but fiddle with the hem of his shirt, his fingers nervously creating many wrinkles.
The boy stopped looking at him and, speaking in different languages, retorted to each of the important figures' fierce condemnations.
"A savior who is not dangerous cannot deal with a dangerous enemy."
"I'm in danger too, are you going to deal with me as well?"
"What if something goes wrong? No one can guarantee that nothing will go wrong."
"We should remedy what needs to be remedied, avoid what needs to be avoided, and assess risks and formulate risk control strategies. These are issues that the Federation should have considered when it first drafted the plan! Otherwise, would all the establishment of so many departments and the investment of so many funds and resources be wasted?"
He listened numbly and absentmindedly, feeling like an illiterate child.
After an unknown amount of time, the important figures were rendered speechless by the young man's retort, or perhaps out of fear of his abilities and the powerful forces behind him, they reluctantly shut their mouths.
The boy's voice came from above.
“Hill”.
He looked up in a flash.
The boy looked at him and said something slowly and deliberately, basically repeating what the important people had been saying at the beginning.
He could understand each word individually, but when they were put together, the meaning became confusing, which annoyed him.
But in the end, things were different.
As those important figures spoke, their words became increasingly heated, spitting as they loudly questioned him about what he was thinking, whether he wanted to kill someone, and criticized him as a demon in human skin.
The boy looked at him sternly and asked clearly in his native dialect.
How much of these things do you remember?
His sluggish mind, waiting patiently without any change in the boy's emotions, finally seemed to come to its senses. He opened his mouth and answered hoarsely, "...λα (all)."
The boy stated bluntly: "Whether intentional or not, you did something wrong, a very serious mistake."
The boy raised his hand, which shimmered with golden light and transformed into a thick ruler, which said to him in an unquestionable manner: "Hand."
Everyone was watching him. He bristled like a hedgehog, almost reflexively yelling, "No!"
Boy: "Do you want me to repeat it again?"
"..."
The ruler struck his palm with a crisp crack, and he winced in pain as he watched his fair hand slowly swell and turn red. Large tears streamed down his face.
He remembers crying terribly and screaming loudly.
"I was wrong, White!"
"Please, please let me go! I'll apologize! I'll do volunteer work for a year! No, two or three years! Ah!"
But the boy showed no mercy.
Calm and dignified.
The hands, slender and porcelain white, without any protective barrier, were exceptionally strong, tightly gripping his wrists as he tried to pull back. The other hand raised a ruler and struck his hands repeatedly, turning them into large, red, scalding buns.
Just like when he confronts important figures, he will not back down an inch.
Finally, he was sobbing uncontrollably when the boy pressed the back of his head down, and he apologized to the guards: "I'm sorry for causing you all trouble."
Then, turning to the silent, powerful figures, he spoke with eloquence: "Did you all see that? Whether it's him or those children behind him, the dangers you're wary of are always under our control. Instead of worrying that these embryos might get out of control, you should first examine your perpetually deficit finances and your defense system, which is as fragile as tofu, and see how many parasites have infested it."
“My mother, now the Goddess of Destiny, didn’t have as much free time as you when she was the CEO of the Federation.”
The boy waved one hand toward the open church door, his demeanor polite yet his tone domineering: "There's still a mess to clean up, so I won't see you off. Please."
The crowd gradually dispersed amidst awkward and noisy conversations, and the remotely connected image projection was subsequently turned off.
He huddled behind the boy, tears welling in his eyes, thinking that things had finally come to an end.
Who would have thought that the boy would turn his head the next second and stare at him for a few seconds, amidst the pounding of his heart.
Then she suddenly grabbed his wrist, pinched his chubby hand, and stretched his fingers out.
He met the boy's fierce eyes and realized something was wrong: "White! You've already punished me! No! Ahhhhhh—!"
...
The seventh apostle opened his eyes.
The lips and teeth had an unusually sweet taste, the blood of a god-level player.
I wonder which old friend his little green monsters met next; it's a pity they didn't get to bleed him dry, so they can't really taste the flavor of it.
The Seventh Apostle licked his lips, still savoring the moment, and squinted without getting up.
The boy next to me, holding a sheep plush toy, asked, "You've been reminiscing for so long, were you having a sweet dream?"
"I don't know."
The Seventh Apostle rolled over, propped his chin up with one hand, and looked at the boy with a smile, like a boneless snake: "Little lamb, do you know that I was almost 'dealt with' once?"
The boy glanced at him silently, then turned his head away indifferently.
"If you're referring to the incident where you suspected someone was trying to harm you, went berserk, and caused the blasphemous vines to grow all over half the base, strangling more than 30 researchers and guards like a primeval forest, almost resulting in their deaths, then I think it's not unfair that you were disposed of."
“If White knew you would cause him a lot of trouble in the future, he would have wanted to kill you back then.” The boy pushed aside the campfire, making it burn brighter. The dark circles under his eyes were even more pronounced, making him look dejected and tired, but his words were still sharp. “It’s his fault for being too kind.”
"You're wrong. How could I cause him any big trouble? Even when he ate me back then, I wasn't angry. Now, I just want to get an answer to one question from him."
Behind them, a corpse lay cold, its flesh and blood being absorbed by green vines, not even a bone fragment was wasted, leaving only a blood-stained white robe scattered on the ground, with the ancient Greek numeral "eleven" embroidered on its chest.
A green light flashed in the Seventh Apostle's eyes, and hair-thick vines climbed up his eyeballs, surging in waves with his joy: "If he knew how many obstacles I had removed for him, he would be so grateful to me."
He rolled over again and said lazily and relaxedly, "I can't wait to see him."
On the other side.
Brian rubbed his face hard, stared at the swaying vines, and said numbly, "Give up, it's hopeless."
Yan Chuyi: "..."
Captain Xu and the other players: "..."
Author's Note:
Happy Labor Day, babies! [hugs][confetti]
To celebrate, I'll be giving away 66 small red envelopes in the comments section!
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