Chapter 821 The Inescapable Spiral

A picture also emerged on the fate master's card.

Attile!

Yago instantly realized who the owner of this line of sight was.

Without hesitation, Yago immediately activated the power of the Playmaker's card, targeting Atile.

It looks like a snake swimming in the river, or a bird flying in the sky.

Different from the hazy feeling in the past, at this moment, Yago can clearly perceive the feeling when using the card of fortune teller.

However, when he used the power of the Joker's card, when he moved towards the pair of pupils burning like flames, a strong pulling force came from behind.

Like a storm, the shadow formed a terrifying black spiral, attacking him with a strong suction force.

The blood of silver that has been absorbed to the limit and can no longer store "toxin" is directly crushed, consuming a lot of his "pollution" and shaping the body. On the body of the silver snake, there is an established pattern similar to the line of probability. The light has no ability to resist.

Yago only struggled for less than a second before being pulled into the vortex formed by the shadows.

The sense of crisis at the time of death, an inexplicable sense of relief, and that not too much unwillingness mixed together, making him fall into memories like watching a revolving lantern.

Final attempt--

With the last remaining, negligible pollution, Yago gave up the resistance that could no longer be sustained, and constructed a paradox maze:

"Whether you can survive or not depends on you."

Yago buried this newly constructed, extremely simple paradox mystery in his body.

The moment after finishing this action, his consciousness sank into a swirling shadow.

"here it is"

The man rubbed his eyes and woke up.

As the field of vision gradually became clear, a strange picture came into his eyes.

Under the light of the fire, dark green dense bushes came into his vision.

church?

Yes, church.

The man glanced at the church and then at himself.

He was wearing a dark robe.

Ugly, the uniforms of this church.

this church?

When this idea came up, the man couldn't help but feel a little puzzled.

There is also a church in the world.

Oh, no, there are also those guys who disrespect the Lord of the Night. Didn’t those guys also want to build a church?

However, the man is a little strange, why does he think that building a church is a very common thing?

There should be only one true God, there should be only one eternal Lord, the shelter of all living beings, the master of sleep and silence, the great master of the night.

Those churches of false gods, those irreverents who try to presume, deserve to die.

Everything he knew made him think so.

However, he felt that something was wrong.

Monotheism is extreme?

This inexplicable idea popped up.

"Monotheism"?

Monotheism, sounds like a sect with only one god?

But there is only one God, this word

The man couldn't remember where he had heard it before.

In his impression, this word did not exist at all.

Shaking his head, the man walked towards the church.

As he walked back to the church following the firelight, a little girl appeared in his vision.

A little nun, hiding behind a pillar, looked at him eagerly.

Seeing her, the man couldn't help showing a smile from his heart:

"Little Hurley! Have you finished the book yet?"

Hearing this, the little girl didn't speak, but just hid behind the pillar.

It was the same ridicule as before, but the man felt a little thin.

He didn't smile because of little Hurley's dodging movements like before.

He has a... sense of unreality.

Squinting his eyes, the man looked to the other side, to the room on the left side of the church hall.

That is the library.

A place to put textbooks and various books.

For some reason, the man walked towards that room.

When he came to the door of the library, the man stopped in his tracks.

In his line of sight, the library with the door open was completely burned by the fire.

The ashes piled on the ground have not been swept away.

There was a pallor to the piled ashes.

On the side, for some unknown reason, the carbonized bookshelf, together with the ashes around it, exudes a deadly feeling.

"Father Bronto?"

A weak female voice came.

Father? Although it is the same word, it would be more appropriate to translate it as priest and godfather, right?

When he heard the voice, such thoughts appeared in the man's mind.

However, when such thoughts surfaced, the man couldn't help but froze for a moment.

Father and godfather are two words.

The man, who was a little confused in his thoughts, rubbed his temples, turned his head, and saw little Hurley who was leaning over the door frame and looking at him.

Her big blinking eyes were full of doubts, as if she didn't understand his behavior.

"It's okay, it's just a pity that the book was burned."

Man, Bronto responded with a smile.

Although he didn't come to the library because of this, he didn't know why?

On a whim?

On a whim? Is there an idiom for this?

There are more and more doubts in the man's mind.

And he was distracted from time to time, which was also discovered by little Hurley. This little girl who looked only eight or nine years old pursed her lips:

"Father Bronto, we can have salmon for our next meal! Mr. Roger has just delivered dried salmon."

Hearing this, the man nodded:

"No problem, then please clean it up."

"Yes! Father Bronto!"

The little girl whose eyes seemed to light up responded and turned around, bouncing towards the direction of the kitchen.

She didn't notice that Bronto's eyes were full of doubts.

"wrong."

Bronto's eyes flicked over the triangular cluster of flames.

"wrong."

He glanced at the church hall, bright in the firelight.

"wrong."

His gaze was fixed on the library that was completely burned by the flames.

Something is wrong.

Or, neither is right.

Immediately, in an inexplicable impulse, Bronto walked towards the podium in the church hall, and walked over to the podium under the statue of the Lord of the Night.

That feeling of being wrong came from this direction.

With a judgment that he didn't know where he came from, Bronto's footsteps gradually became firmer.

Then he saw it.

A statue of a book made of stone placed on top of the teaching platform.

What's this?

Bronto couldn't be sure about the others, but he could be sure that this stone sculpture and this book sculpture did not exist before.

Squinting his eyes, Bronto turned to the front, looking at the book sculpture that seemed to be just an ornament.

Immediately, one after another complicated and intertwined patterns, patterns that gave him an inexplicable sense of familiarity, came into view.