Chapter 192 Ch191 Fairy Ring and Whipper
Chapter 192 Ch.191 The Fairy Ring and the Flagellant
The sun sets low.
The golden-gray arc of light gradually blurred along the horizon.
The refreshing gust of wind passed through the wilderness, swaying the black hair on the young man's face.
Also swaying together were the ankle-length grass, the rustling sea of trees in the distance, and the mirror lake that had the afterglow of broken scales.
The wind is the wind, the grass is the grass, and the dense forest is the dense forest.
There are no living things here.
There was no 'Avalanche of Gold Pounds' or 'Shadow of the Owl Beast' - it was as if nature gently created everything it was supposed to create, and then equally gently erased the existence of the creatures here.
Roland wanted to use 'clean' to describe this dreamland.
Or: ring.
He walked through the wilderness, bypassed the mirror-flat lake, and entered the deep forest where the tree canopy blocked the sun.
He started from a starting point and let the wrench pull out a long straight line of flames in his sight——
He walked straight forward along this straight line for about two minutes, or two hours, or two days, or two months.
The slanting light disappears and the silver moon rises.
Until the dark night was filled with a burst of bright and dark star spots.
The warm gusts of wind became cool and playful, occasionally brushing against his ears.
Then.
Unconsciously.
He's back to square one.
The place where I once stood.
He could see the lake and the sea of swaying trees.
The tracks he left were like ruts winding into the distance.
Goblin ring.
A circular dream connected end to end.
Roland twisted the silver ring on his little finger, and the characters on his wrist that should have been invisible were slightly hot:
He felt something in his heart, as if something was forced into his head.
It’s a feeling of ‘I can do this’.
"I can…"
Roland opened his palms and stared, some light blue lines intertwined continuously, gradually condensing into a flat coin.
Gold coins without patterns.
It fell heavily into the palm of my hand.
-
wrench.
"This is the Fairy Ring."
Flames leaped across the dark wilderness.
"You are the one who holds the 'key'. You can use the 'mystery' in this dream to create what you want to create - lifeless."
-
Borrowing the ‘mystery’ from dreams…
"That's right."
"But I need to remind you."
"The 'Fairy Ring', like most dreams, relies on the world of sleep to exist - but it is different from other dreams: its key is in your hands, and you and the candle are its real managers."
"Then, this directly leads to a problem."
-
Let me think.
-
If you think of the 'Sleeping World' as a person, this person does not need to be responsible for the expenses of the tenants in his rented house...
-
Is it right?
"correct."
"Every moment, countless dreams will appear in the sleeping world, but at the same time, there are also countless dreams that will be destroyed."
"If you use the 'secret' of this dreamland too much, then you have to find a way to make up for what it consumes - otherwise, this place will collapse."
"Dream collapse is very dangerous."
"If you plan to replicate a city of London or half of Fork County, you need to provide your 'daughter' with enough 'energy', instead of using your identity as a manager to constantly absorb this dreamland which has very little. The secret.”
Roland looked sideways: "Only you and I can come here, right?"
The python sitting on Roland's shoulder nodded slightly.
She changed her body shape, but Roland couldn't feel any more weight.
"In other words, this is our 'home' in the world when we sleep."
he murmured.
A home to which only he had a key.
"marvelous…"
"I want to build a manor, or a castle."
"That requires a lot of mystery."
"I have a lot of time, Wrench." Roland raised his head slightly, the stars above his head were bright.
…………
…
Due to the existence of the "Fairy Ring", Roland had another place to go every night - a place other than the empty jungle.
With the 'mystery' that his current body can hold, if he is allowed to be swallowed up by small candles, he can add many walls to the fairy ring every time, or build a table, teacups, etc.
A little adds up to a lot.
Roland and Little Candle discussed that she could give other people 'keys' and take them back at any time.
As for the number of keys, it cannot exceed ten for the time being.
What makes Roland even more excited is:
There is no need to be ‘reasonable’ in dreams.
——He can build a stone tower that is narrow at the bottom and wide at the top, and ensures that it is strong and does not collapse. It can make an 'iron rod' that has no edge but is sharp, or a chair that has only two legs but is stable and does not shake.
Even a feather thinner than paper and heavier than a stone.
As long as he pays enough mystery, he can firmly fix the state of the items he has 'set'.
I have to say, this is really interesting.
"I see you've already decided who to invite."
-
At least apprentice, wrench.
"It's time to wait. Your Miss Snitch is not suitable for 'fantasy'. She can't open your door."
-
So, do you know which path is suitable for her?
"People will eventually move towards their destined destiny."
-
I hate the word 'destiny'.
Accompanied by the loud snoring coming from downstairs, Roland squatted in front of the open box and carefully looked at the human bones inside.
This is the skeleton of old Williams brought by Rose - the depression behind the skull is the cause of death, that is, it was smashed out from behind with a sharp stone.
He whips with his right hand, so only the right hand bone is needed for the ceremony.
The holy symbol of the Ninth Crowned God was painted on the floor, the blood of the Ultimate Joy was shed, candles were lit, and prayers were uttered.
Roland sprinkled the prepared white plaster powder on the floor.
First, there is an irregular square.
Next, the inner circle.
Finally, a cup filled with liquid.
He dusted his hands, looked at the human bones on the ground, listened to the snoring in his ears, and arranged the "stage" unskillfully.
When the secret is carefully ground and spreads like dust, moist vapor rises in the room.
Silks of white mist gradually spread over my ankles.
It’s getting thicker and thicker.
-
One ring of secrets is not enough to last for too long.
"Except for Eve's followers, there are very few ritualists who can set up a scene with just one ring."
Roland pulled out the cork and poured blood on the bones of his hand.
Get down on one knee.
“…Call upon the Creator of flesh and blood, the beginning of separation and brokenness, the end of trauma and healing.”
"My noble desirer, the bottomless lake of distortion."
"Perhaps no one knows it, but after the slanderous writing, the marrow-eating descendants will arrive in the cave of Red Crumble..."
The pale flames, accompanied by the red mist that suddenly rose around him, left letters that were constantly twisting in front of Roland.
He gradually raised his bloody hand bones high, as if he were in a bottomless, squirming muddy swamp of blood, with an invisible force oppressing and wrapping him.
Roland saw a phantom in the turbid blood-colored canvas in front of him, and in the soft and wriggling mist.
They were people walking barefoot and wearing conical tower hats.
They were standing or crawling, lying or lying on their sides. From time to time, they used long spiked whips to beat the backs and limbs of the people in front of them or on the left and right - the skin and flesh were torn, and blood and flesh flew everywhere.
Apart from the prayers floating in the air wherever they walked piously, there were only bloodstains on the land.
They sang hymns loudly and looked bitter, but they were quickly enlightened and suddenly became enlightened.
This group of extremely pious blood-stained people ran all the way to the end of the blood swamp and turned into nothing in groups.
The roars echoed in Roland's ears.
He heard someone shout:
‘We are like mimes, we tour in silence. ’
'Sprinkling our blood for God is good for my sins. ’
'But now, all this has become in vain...'
Snapped--!
The shout was interrupted by a loud whip sound mixed with the roar of metal!
‘Lord of Pleasure! my mother! ’
‘Let this whip-wielding hand lift up the thorns for you again! ’