Chapter 823 Secret

Kingdom of Lansu.

In the house where no one had appeared for a long time, a little girl in a black dress came out from the corner.

She disappeared again.

However, she went to the book world again.

Little Betty looked at the old books that had fallen on the ground.

"Hunter's Lodge"

Picking up the book, Little Betty silently put it on the table on the other side.

Miss Elsa has not been back for a long time.

So is grandpa.

So is Master Diego.

Although she was far more mature than the average child, her temperament did not become less than that of a child.

Or is it because of the power of the path?

Little Betty sat silently in the empty room except her.

Whether sitting inside or outside, people ignored her.

"Participant", this title was given by Miss Elsa, she didn't think it was appropriate for the basis of her channel power.

Because, the title of "leader" is more suitable for her strength.

Instead of participating in the event, but leading the actions of others in the event.

"Forgotten," as well.

Not the Forsaken, not the "Forgotten", but the "None".

Forgetting isn't the best way to keep a secret, nor is a secret being forgotten in a real sense of disconnection.

Irrelevant, irrelevant is the word that best matches secret.

Their code names are wrong.

However, she didn't intend to say it.

This secret, it is best that no one knows the best.

Little Betty silently opened the fairy tale book in her hand.

her favorite ballad.

Both the dead and the living have heard it, and it belongs to the ballad of the god of death.

This is something Betty Jr. hasn't mentioned to anyone.

Poems, nursery rhymes, recitations.

Many people have heard of the source of the rhythm, and the poems sung by the creators are described in the image of "bard" in almost every poetry anthology.

It can be said that the image of "bard" is equivalent to death.

In other words, the "bard" is the god of death.

Little Betty quietly flipped through the words on the book.

Afterwards, the silent little Betty slowly raised her head.

But, which one is the real "bard"?

She tilted her head and looked ahead.

In her field of vision, the surging mist gradually diffused into the room.

And she quietly put away the fairy tale book in her hand and put it on the table.

The next moment, at the moment when the surging spiritual mist covered her body, her petite body also disappeared from the room.

In the boundless, seemingly endless sea of ​​fog, long and chaotic voices floated.

The strange skeleton birds covered with gray and black feathers flitted in the air, and a long sound full of dead silence rang out from the cavity in their bodies.

Little Betty's figure emerged on this vast expanse of land.

And those suicidal birds, as if they didn't notice her, let her come and go on this vast and empty land.

And at this moment, a voice sounded:

"Cute little girl, this is not a good place."

A handsome young man dressed as a bard looked at her with a smile on his face.

Compared with her, when the young man appeared, the large group of skeletal birds flying across the sky and making shrill death calls all scattered and flew away.

But Little Betty just looked up without saying a word, looking at him:

"Fake."

"It's really merciless."

Although the young man with the appearance of a bard said so, he didn't seem to care:

"However, it is true that from an objective point of view, I am not real."

Even so, there was no negative emotion such as disappointment on his face, nor was there any confusion, but a pure feeling

Little Betty just looked at him silently with emotion.

"What? Don't believe me?"

The bard looked down at her.

Little Betty didn't reply, but his figure wasn't even reflected in those unwavering eyes.

"It's not something everyone wants to do."

"The idiots of the church always laugh at those wizards for their lack of faith. However, in my opinion, they are more fanatical than the believers of the gods they have torn from their thrones."

"Truth. What is truth?"

The bard emerged with the voice with a confused tone.

However, there was no confusion in his eyes.

"I'm different from them. I'm not a wizard, and I'm not a clergyman whose nest is occupied by doves. Well, this sentence is not bad."

After muttering something like a creator who had a flash of inspiration, the bard continued:

"I am not interested in any truth, let alone exploring the unknown."

He looked at the empty sky:

"Especially in this case, maybe a few carols about death would suit me better?"

"It's just that it still fell on me in the end."

"A group of lunatics who shouted 'failed, but not yet failed' are really reckless."

"But I don't want to."

The bard turned to look at her:

"You can understand, it's the kind of personal desire, the kind that you don't want to care about even if something big happens."

Little Betty didn't respond, and the pair of eyes that didn't reflect his figure were still staring at him.

"You can't blame me, it's just that I didn't plan to keep it, and he just wanted it, so I just handed it over."

He plucked the small harp in his arms, and glanced at the vast open space:

"Also, the opinions of the wizards are not unanimous."

"The channel was only just established, and they began to use their own means to plan experiments. If it weren't for the suppression and integration of those few great wizards, the tower of the end that still exists now may have been destroyed."

When the bard said this, he took a few steps forward, and after turning his head to see that Little Betty didn't intend to follow, he blinked, thought for a moment, and blew his whistle.

Accompanied by the shrill chirping sound and the sense of dead silence, a death bird came to him.

A strange book, taken from the beak of a dead bird by a bard.

Turning around, the bard shook the book:

"How do you say that? Play with uncle, and I can leave it to you later~"

Little Betty remained expressionless.

When the bard saw this scene, he couldn't help sighing, and threw the book in his hand at Little Betty.

However, Little Betty didn't even pick up the connection, and the book, which could have been reached by reaching out, just fell to the ground.

Under the slightly puzzled gaze of the bard, Little Betty spoke in a slightly indifferent tone:

"Fake."

Her words made the bard frown.

Under the gaze of the bard, Little Betty spit out:

"The Keeper hasn't died since he appeared."

The unwavering eyes looked back at the bard:

"The Keeper of Secrets has never been alone."

When the bard heard this sentence, surprise and surprise appeared on his face:

"So that's it, it really is the style of those lunatics."