Chapter 1816: Summer in Fool Village (30)

In the evening of Gotham's midsummer, the air was filled with dim light, the heat was lingering on the ground, and the moisture rising from the earth nest mixed with the fragrance of grass, coming in through the gaps in the doors and windows, but it could only float above the room.

The guests who walked into the restaurant smelled an extremely strong fragrance.

The people who received the invitation looked at the others calmly and found that they all looked familiar. They were all the great wizards who had gathered in Gotham some time ago to build the earth's magic defense network, and their few remaining apprentices.

At this time, everyone had an indescribable expression of shock on their faces.

It had nothing to do with the fragrance and the food, but because the energy that was almost substantial in the room was the power of the devil that they were very familiar with.

"What's going on?!" Jim asked with trembling lips. He looked down at the dishes on the table and asked instinctively, "What kind of meat is this? What kind of meat is this? Schiller!"

"This is moose meat."

"Impossible!!!" A female mage screamed. She began to roar like crazy and reached out to grab the steak on the table, but her companion stopped her and stared at the meat on the table and swallowed his saliva.

Schiller stood up from the main seat at the long table, picked up the wine glass and said, "As you can see, today's main course is red wine marinated venison leg steak, rosemary venison ribs, sour cheese and parsley grilled liver tips, deer blood pudding, and vegetable venison red soup."

"Are you crazy? This is not venison at all!" A black mage roared, "How dare you... How dare you... You will be cursed!"

"Of course, each place has different customs for calling meat. In my eyes, there are sixteen strong deer lying on the table, but in your eyes, they may have another name, called 'Devil'."

Everyone froze.

The people who had seen the dishes before were unable to identify the types of ingredients for various reasons. Strange was a foreign wizard who had hardly dealt with local demons. Zatanna's power did not come from demons. Although she had fought against demons, she had never had in-depth exchanges with them, so she naturally could not feel it.

But the great wizards present were different. Their power almost all came from angels and demons. It had become instinct for them to feel the power of demons, so they were very sure that what Schiller said was true, and the raw materials of the dishes on the table were demons.

It was precisely because they knew the power of demons very well that they understood that the power level of the group of demons lying on Schiller's table was not low, at least it had to be the level of demon generals.

An old wizard with white hair almost knocked over the plate with trembling hands. He looked at Schiller in panic and asked, "You killed so many demons, the devil of hell will not let you go!"

"At least I am still standing here now, right?"

Strange, who was sitting in the first seat on the right, seemed to understand Schiller's intention. He slowly picked up the napkin, tied it in an elegant manner, picked up the fork in one hand, looked around and said, "Don't you want powerful power? Now the power is in front of you. If you don't want it, I will eat it all."

With a "pop", the plate was still knocked over.

But no one paid attention to the old wizard's situation. Everyone looked at the table of sumptuous dishes with a little stiffness. Every wisp of heat rising from it was naked, pure, and pure power without any impurities.

That was different from the power given to them by the devil. The devil usually twisted the power into a trickle and gave it to the fragile human beings. They were extremely grateful for this gift.

But what flowed on Schiller's dining table was a raging torrent, no one gave it, no one descended on it, it was completely primitive and violent, but powerful and invincible.

Their lips began to tremble, their hearts and lungs began to surge, and their souls stretched out sharp teeth from their pupils, clamoring to swallow everything in front of them, which was the power they could never obtain through gifts.

Who hasn't thought about becoming a demon?

Such thoughts flowed through everyone's brain around the table like electricity, powerful, immortal, and unscrupulous, getting rid of the weak body and heading for the promised land in the dream.

"Schiller." A low voice sounded.

Schiller saw the reflection of the goat with yellow pupils in the reflection of the side cabinet opposite the dining table, and he also understood that at this moment, only he could hear Azazel's words.

"You killed my men and served them on your table. This is an offense that can never be forgiven. You will pay for it."

"Why are you so anxious? Your Majesty Azazel." Schiller said, holding a wine glass and looking at the reflection of Azazel in the mirror, "I served more than just your men on the table."

After a burst of "crackling" sounds of metal and iron, all the guests picked up the tableware with trembling hands, saliva dripping from their mouths, and hot flames coming out of their eyes.

Even the team led by Jim picked up the tableware with a little hesitation. They had eaten magical creatures before, and the roasted elf venison in Maya was also delicious.

Moreover, this group of people had consumed a lot of strength in the war against the vampire invasion. Even if they were not the kind of young men who relied too much on strength, the hunger in their souls kept clamoring.

Jim remembered the wonderful and incomparable food that he had attended Schiller's banquet last time. The aroma that penetrated the soul might not be his illusion. What's wrong with the devil?

Just as the first fork was about to touch the food, Schiller's voice sounded again.

"I am honored that you like the dishes I provide, but I have to remind you that some of you have unnecessary misunderstandings and malice towards me."

No one was listening to him seriously. Maybe they heard it but didn't care. They just blindly rushed towards the power they might get, and Schiller continued to say calmly: "Some of you came uninvited. The greatest respect I can have for such people is to let them appear at the banquet in another way."

"I sincerely hope that the rudeness flowing in their veins will not affect your taste enjoyment. Then, the banquet begins."

Schiller raised his glass gently and sat down again.

Everyone else was in an icy cave.

"I smell it, I smell the scent of Kaz's soul!" an old witch with an ugly scar on her face shouted, "And the sheep's hoof called Salia, the table is full of the smell of their flesh and blood..."

Jim's eyes widened, he looked at Schiller suddenly, stood up, and shouted in disbelief: "You gave them..."

Then he looked at the dishes on the table with shocked eyes, and clearly saw two different kinds of meat in each dish.

Jim's lips began to tremble, and he kept swallowing his saliva instinctively to fight the nausea that came up from his stomach. He almost ate it.

Cannibalism, the most unforgivable sin since humans established civilized society.

"Crazy! Crazy! Schiller, you're crazy!" Jim kept waving his hands and shouting, "I won't eat them, this is simply unreasonable, I'm leaving now!"

After saying that, Jim pushed the chair away and walked towards the door. He turned back and glared at his companions. Mrs. Xanadu opened her hands and said, "I'm not a human, I'm a forest fairy..."

"Me too..." Bennett swallowed hesitantly.

Feeling Jim's angry eyes, the remaining three people stood up slowly and followed Jim away.

Strange also put down his fork and looked at the dishes on the table coldly. Schiller looked at him. Strange looked at him fearlessly and said, "I'm a surgeon."

"So you only know how to save people?"

"So I understand how dirty the human body is, and your seasoning ruined this table of good dishes."

Strange was hinting at another thing - since the dishes made by demons are used to stimulate the greed of human wizards and let them know that they will get more by directly plundering and killing demons, why bother to do so and add psychological burden to the diners?

Since there is no turning back after eating the demon's meat, shouldn't we try every means to trick them into eating it?

But what Strange didn't expect was that after pausing for a second, this group of people pounced on the table full of meat like hungry beasts.

Without hesitation, without hesitation, Strange seemed to hear the voice in their hearts.

What's the big deal about eating people? We are very hungry now, we need strength, as long as we can fill our stomachs, we will eat anything.

What's the big deal about eating people? We have been hungry for a long time, because we are strong enough, we are the diners, the weak are always weak, and they should be on the table.

What's the big deal about eating people? When we are truly sublimated into creatures that are completely different from weak humans, the meat that enters our stomachs is just meat, so why can't humans do the same?

Boundless anger overwhelmed Strange's mind, and he felt that the wide-open mouths of everyone at this gluttonous feast had become a vortex that sucked his reason in.

At this moment, a wine glass held in a hand fell in front of him, making a slight sound. Strange looked up blankly, only to see Schiller's smiling eyes.

"Did you see it, Stephen?"

Strange looked at the situation on the table again. He didn't see anyone, only a group of hungry beasts, eating the meat thrown by humans without any scruples.

Their fangs were worn off, their claws were shrinking, and layers of thick fur grew on their bodies. When Strange tried to open his eyes again, he only saw a group of fat livestock, a group of pigs with flapping ears and fat bellies.

"Defeat by fullness, and fear of hunger..." Strange couldn't help but repeat Schiller's words.

Schiller looked at Pamela, who was sitting at the first seat on the left, and said, "When people forget who they are and succumb to hunger, they become pigs, and humans always succumb."

Pamela's fingertips on the table trembled slightly. She looked up at Schiller's distracted eyes, then looked at the food on the table, and then smelled a fragrance from her human gene instinct, not the fragrance of meat, but the fragrance of fruit.

When Azazel appeared across the long table, the shadow of the huge black wings enveloped everyone.

No one stopped. Everyone was frantically stuffing meat into their mouths, abandoning the cutlery and etiquette, reaching out to grab and bite with their teeth, until most of the meat was eaten up, and they finally picked up the cutlery again.

This time it was not to cut food, but to cut their own kind.

When the first scream came out, Azazel took a deep breath, and his left wing fluttered lightly, and a busy scrambler was slapped against the wall behind and turned into meat paste.

Still no one stopped.

Forks were inserted into the eye sockets, and the knife cut the throat. The bloody feast finally took place. Everyone climbed onto the table and began to tear the flesh and blood from their own kind with the most primitive weapons - nails and teeth.

"Sizzle!"

Blood splattered on Azazel's face, from cheeks to the corners of his eyes, a bright red. He closed his eyes, and blood beads slid from his eyelashes.

"How does it taste?" Schiller stood across the long table, his dark green suit almost blending into the bushes under the setting sun. He raised his glass to Azazel and asked.

Azazel stuck out his tongue and rolled the blood into his mouth, revealing the sharp canine teeth of the devil. He opened his eyes and looked at Schiller with his goat pupils and said, "This is a sin that makes the devil feel spicy. Thank you for your hospitality."

Schiller walked slowly to the opposite side of Azazel. Azazel turned his head to look at him, and Schiller put the empty wine glass in front of Azazel's neck.

Azazel suddenly opened his eyes wide. He looked at Schiller and said in disbelief, "You know that the devil cannot refuse sin, so you seduced my subordinates like this!"

Schiller did not answer. The sharp fangs under the human skin flashed by. He turned the wine glass in his hand and got closer to Azazel.

His tone gradually became lower, "Azazel, the Lord's scapegoat, the original animal sacrifice, leave your blood and you can leave."

"Schiller, you are crazy!"

"I told you he is not Schiller." Constantine's voice sounded at the door.

Azazel turned his head suddenly, and Constantine was already looking at him on the door frame, saying indifferently: "I killed your subordinates. I told them that I wanted to re-conclude the contract, and no one could resist the temptation of showing off my soul in hell. The beasts of hell never learn their lesson."

His eyes fell on the debris and corpses on the table, and he said calmly: "They excluded me in the past, but I didn't care. The lambs I manipulated were in heaven and on earth."

"Now their hungry cries are annoying. I think their master should start slaughtering them."

"I will choose a strong lamb from my corral and put it on the altar, so that their master can serve them on the table. It's fair, isn't it?"

Constantine smiled and walked to Azazel and said: "You have absorbed all the extreme sins here, so you must pay the bill, otherwise I will let the devil kill me, and then go to heaven to spread your ugly face of defaulting on debts to all angels."

Azazel looked at Constantine in shock, then at Schiller, and then at Constantine.

Ten minutes later, Constantine picked up the wine glass filled with crimson wine.

He gently lowered the rim of the glass to clink glasses with Schiller, then raised his head, enjoying the smell of blood sliding down his throat. The eyes behind the shadow of his hair had the same madness and debauchery that had never changed.

Schiller looked at Constantine with an unprecedented deep gaze and said.

"Through you, I enter the city of pain; through you, I enter the pit of eternal misery, Constantine."

"Through you, I enter the crowd of people who will never be saved, Schiller."

"Cheers to Dante."

"Cheers to Dante."

Little goat: Fainted by human play