Crown of Silence

Chapter 809 Funeral (2)

For the first time, I dreamed of a beautiful scene.

It's like a fairy tale.

In the halo, he saw the white-haired young man lowering his head, smiling and putting a ring on the girl, dispelling misfortune and suffering.

That look... so happy, as if he could be freed himself.

Then, the dream woke up.

Charles opened his eyes and heard the sound of the kettle boiling and the crackling of wood in the stove.

Someone was sitting in front of the stove, with his back to him, watching the fire.

"Morning?"

Ciel looked up blankly.

"No, it's midnight."

The man in front of the stove picked up the kettle, stood up, grabbed a large handful of powder from the tea can on the table, and threw it into the broken iron kettle.

Boiling hot water is poured into the broken iron kettle, and the powder simmers, turning the color into a dark red.

After shaking a few times, the not-so-fragrant tea was poured into two broken wooden cups and placed on the bedside.

It's like being at home.

Paganini dragged over a broken chair and sat in front of Charles.

"I'm sorry for disturbing your sweet dream." Although he said sorry, there was no apology on his face, just a heart-stopping calm.

"What happened?" Charles was confused, "Suddenly..."

The words were interrupted, and Paganini picked up the tea cup: "Would you like tea?"

"Ah, thank you."

Ciel subconsciously took the tea cup.

He lowered his head and smelled it. The smell of rotten tea was still the same as before, but the water temperature was just right. It didn't look like it had just boiled.

Cheap scraps floated in the hot water, rising or sinking.

For a moment, in a trance, the turbid dark red seemed to turn into a flame, rising and spreading across the earth, rising suddenly and disappearing again.

The phantom flashed out of the tea cup, the burning earth and buildings flashed away, and the flames were like a tide, drowning the corpses and bones.

Accompanied by a familiar whine.

There were children crying.

Snapped!

Ciel's hand trembled and the tea cup fell to the ground.

The tea soup was splashed, and the unrealistic illusion disappeared.

Ciel was stunned.

Paganini's eyes were lowered, as if he didn't see anything and turned a deaf ear. He just took a sip of tea as a matter of course and then put the teacup back on the table.

The look in Ciel's eyes became disappointed and complicated.

"No matter how much I think about it, I still can't understand why the gods would be so attached to someone like you?"

"Feel sorry."

Ciel awkwardly picked up the teacup that was rolling on the ground.

"No need to apologize, this is not a mistake, no, for you... maybe it is."

Paganini took the tea cup from Charles's hand and looked down at the tea leaves at the bottom of the cup, as if he were a fortune teller who could glean the future through the shape of the remaining tea leaves.

"Let's go, Ciel."

He lowered his head and suddenly said: "The tea has been finished. It's time for you to leave. Walk from the back of the village. Someone will pick you up by the river and take you to Angelou."

In silence.

Ciel suddenly felt a deep pain coming from his skull.

It comes suddenly and goes away suddenly.

There is only the phantom pain that remains after a wire has passed through.

He subconsciously pressed his forehead and once again heard the screams from the distance, the cries of children, the sound of burning, the sound of the earth breaking...

But those sounds soon disappeared again.

No, they haven't happened at all yet.

But that ray of phantom pain spread over and spread through his spinal cord, making Ciel suddenly feel cold, as if he had been thrown into a glacier.

The cold current rushes in, bringing with it the roar of iceberg collisions.

The intricate thoughts were suddenly cut off.

Paganini had given enough hints.

An idea flashed across my mind.

It dawned on him.

"Is that so?"

Charles raised his head and looked at him blankly, "Mr. Constantine, is he... finally ready to kill me?"

The corners of his mouth twitched.

It was like he was trying to laugh at himself, but his expression was completely ugly.

No matter what, I can't laugh.

"Can you tell me... why?"

"Now, would you still ask such a stupid question, Ciel?"

Paganini looked at him with pity: "From beginning to end, Constantine was just a phantom in your eyes. Your eyes can see all the truth, but why can't you see the essence of human beings?

He is that kind of person, his mind is full of thoughts about what he wants, his obsession is deep, and his sins are also deep. He will kill anyone who gets in the way.

Charles, you're in the way. "

"Feel sorry."

Ciel lowered his head and apologized, as if he was used to it, "Sorry, I just wanted to..."

"You just want to step down from the altar, right?"

Paganini interrupted him: "You want to change the world and follow your own wishes - no, I'm afraid everyone will think so, but you are the only one who can change so easily... You will destroy Gaius All the hard work.

This is easy for you. "

In the silence, a sharp whistle sounded in the distance.

"It's time for you to go."

Paganini repeated a second time, urging expressionlessly.

Ciel looked at him in despair.

It's like she doesn't understand what he's saying.

Paganini frowned, and finally sighed helplessly, then stretched out his hand... and slapped him in the face with a quick movement, like electricity.

Snapped!

Then another.

The eyepatch was taken off, revealing the empty eye sockets. The wounds in the eye sockets collapsed, and a trace of blood flowed from his cheeks.

The other remaining eye finally raised and looked at him.

His eyes were empty.

Like another eye.

"It's really outrageous. He even has no backbone as a musician."

Paganini withdrew his palm in disgust and threw a box into his arms: "Take your things and get out! Don't let me say it again!"

The box was opened during the tumbling, revealing a gap, and a pure glow spread out like water.

Inside is a sealed eye. The eyeball seems to have been alienated and turned into crystal. Countless reflections are refracted on the crystal, as if it contains all secrets and power.

Those were Ciel's eyes.

The power of God is sealed here.

Unique in the world.

"Why help me?"

Ciel asked softly, "If I die, wouldn't you be able to get what you want?"

"Don't take yourself too seriously, Ciel."

Paganini glanced at him indifferently: "What I want to see is the death of the gods, not yours."

"——You are too far behind."

Ciel was stunned, quickly held his eyes, and smiled bitterly.

"Yes, being an ordinary person is such a failure...why do you still dream of changing the world?"

He put on his shoes and coat.

It's bloated and ugly, like a round ball.

Put on a hat.

open the door.

Finally, look back and say goodbye:

"goodbye."

"No, farewell."

Paganini turned his back to him and said in a cold voice: "When you get to Angelou, give up those unrealistic dreams. Be an ordinary person and grow old mediocrely. That is more suitable for you."

The footsteps faded away.

Stumbling.

There is snow in the sky, and the thick sound gradually fades away when stepping on the snow.

He didn't stay after all.

disappointing.

But it doesn't seem like there's anything wrong with it.

So, just live like this, living as a useless human being for the rest of your life.

That's the only thing you can accomplish.

Paganini closed his eyes.

The fire went out in the cold wind outside.

"You did something insignificant, Paganini."

Langdi leaned on the door frame, lowering his head and smoking a cigarette: "What's going on? Has your conscience noticed it?"

"This is probably the obsessive-compulsive disorder of being a musician."

Paganini's voice was calm, "I just thought that instead of being unable to complete it, it would be better to completely destroy him."

It would be great if Ciel could really become a god.

It's not like he hasn't thought about this idea before.

But if the god you have been pursuing all your life is so ridiculous, would it be better to destroy it?

Having that kind of power is never a good thing for humans.

Jean Ciel was completely disillusioned with the power of the gods.

Refuse to be that thing…

From the prototype of a god to a mediocre ordinary person.

“Flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor corruptible can inherit the incorruptible—”

Paganini recited verses from the holy book, his eyes lowered:

"I don't deserve it, and neither does he."

So, let him die anywhere as an ordinary person.

If there was a destiny, this would be the kindest fate for him.

In the silence, Wolf Flute, who had failed in his mission, did not catch up with him, nor did he get angry and fight against Paganini.

He just lowered his head and stamped out the cigarette.

"It would be nice if that were the case."

He said, "It's a pity..."

——

The village is quiet late at night.

There is no sound.

Only the sound of footsteps echoed in the snow.

Like feet deep in mud.

Ciel tried to run, staggered, and finally fell into the snow, crawling forward in a hurry, looking back behind him.

There was nothing behind him.

No one chases.

There seemed to be a roaring sound in the distance, but I couldn't hear it clearly.

He was the only one panting.

It was such a short distance, but he was so exhausted that he fell into the melting slush and didn't want to get up again.

Maybe that's it, just sleep like this.

Die quietly.

It won't hurt.

But the phantom-like pain spread in his skull, dispersing his sleepiness, urging him to get up, move forward, continue running, fall, get up, and run again.

Staggering, staggering, staggering.

The melting snow took away the body temperature, and the cold hallucination spread in his mind, allowing him to see the burning land, the snow melted, and the flames filled the village.

Everything is burning.

Children cry in the fire, just like adults.

Soon, they were all dead.

Because of myself.

Because of myself...

He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, roared hoarsely, dispelled those damn hallucinations, and continued running forward. Finally, he was knocked down by a muffled sound coming from behind his head.

Fall to the ground.

Someone grabbed his hair, pushed him roughly to the ground, and laughed excitedly: "I got you!"

"What good luck! I can catch a big fish just by peeing." The man who left the team grinned, showing his yellow teeth, and shouted to the distance: "Hey! Come here, he's here! I caught him!"

He took off his gloves, and with stiff fingers, he untied the rope around his waist, trying to tie up Charles, but heard the voice of the man who was stepped into the mud.

"Why..."

It was Charles.

He lowered his head and buried his head in the snow mud, but couldn't help sobbing in a low voice: "Why..."

He shed tears and snot cowardly and wanted to cry loudly, but he felt anxious in his lungs as if he had swallowed charcoal fire and couldn't breathe.

The severe pain spread in his internal organs.

It was anger, urging him to struggle and twist his body wildly, even if his arm was broken, he couldn't stop. He got up from the ground and then threw the man to the ground with all his strength.

Just like a child fighting, he grabbed the stone he groped from the snow and hit the man's face hard.

"Tell me--"

He roared, trying his best to hoarse, but could only make a shrill and twisted sound, like crying: "What did I do wrong! What did I do wrong!"

"Who will tell me why?"

"Why do I have to die!"

He roared, and his ferocious expression was covered by snot and tears, becoming funny.

The shocked face was broken, hit by stones, twisted, one eye broke out of the broken eye socket, and then, it was smashed into mud.

"I just want to make this world a better place..."

Charles choked, unable to suppress his cry: "I just... I just... I just want to save you!"

The blood-stained stone fell to the ground.

The man was silent.

There was a fire in the distance, and the screaming sound was approaching. A few people ran here vaguely. The signal arrow rose into the sky, and then it exploded into a blazing light, slowly falling from the sky.

The light illuminated Charles' face.

He got up from the ground, ran numbly, went into the woods, fell, and got up again, as if he didn't feel any pain.

He ran towards the ferry.

At least he had to leave here.

"Here! Here!"

At the ferry, someone waved to him on a small boat that was about to leave the shore: "Hurry up! They can't delay for long!"

The rope was untied, and the man sat on the side of the boat, reaching his hand into the icy water, calling for the rapids to come.

Charles ran wildly, not caring about breathing, not listening to the strange noise behind him.

Then, he saw it.

The cold river water was stained red with blood.

A head broke off from the neck and fell into the water.

On the side of the boat, the headless body followed closely.

Only a kukri nailed to the board was left.

A ray of swirling cold light burst out at that moment, cutting off the man's head cleanly and neatly, almost breaking the hull, and the remaining sharp blade made a shrill whistle and buzzed.

Then, the musical notes on the blade lit up, the power in the alchemical matrix burst out, and the terrifying shock spread. The entire hull, along with the blade, collapsed like sand in the shock.

It fell into the river, melted into a ball of powder, rolled downstream, and soon disappeared.

Only Charles was left standing in the knee-deep cold water on the shore, looking back blankly, looking behind him.

In the deep woods, two dark purple lights lit up silently.

What kind of eyes are those.

Like a gem in the underworld, without any warmth and temperature, it is thousands of times colder than ice and cold wind.

With the sound of low footsteps, the dead leaves and branches were crushed.

The purple-eyed griffin stood under the moonlight.

Looking at him.