Lord of the Mysteries fanfic: wake up, hermit

He looked at himself in the mirror, and his self in the mirror looked back expressionlessly. He stretched out his hand to touch the cold mirror surface, and his own five fingers touched his own.

"It turns out...that's what I look like."

Compared with the years when he followed the red of war, he seemed to have grown a little taller. His face with elf characteristics also lost a bit of roundness and became more angular, and his eyebrows were deeper.

, a calmer temperament - these changes are the traces carved on an ordinary person by ten years, with the joys and sorrows of gathering and separation, and the trivial matters of daily necessities. In the great sorrow of separation of relatives and friends, and the collapse of civilization, these ten years have

Erased by Him in a self-deceptive way; and in the great sorrow of recalling the past and facing the truth, these ten years turned into sharp buds, bursting out of His body, tearing His flesh and blood.

The past is like a shadow, how can you cut the shadow?

The corners of Thoth's mouth curved into a sarcastic arc, and the starlight flowed in his sad eyes. He stared at the eyes of the person in the mirror, as if staring at two unfathomable black holes in the universe. Until a tall figure appeared.

In the mirror, He suppressed all expressions.

"alex."

The Creator used silence to represent acquiescence. The hermit, who woke up shortly, said again: "This body seems to contain more than just flesh and blood magic."

"After using flesh and blood magic to recreate your nineteen-year-old appearance, I added a little fantasy power so that this body can change with your understanding of yourself."

Thoth smiled lightly, "So does it make you feel uneasy that I remain in my youthful state?"

"It is very dangerous to have a biased understanding of yourself."

"If you think about it carefully, the process of the night reminding me of memories in my dreams goes through stages." At this point, he paused vaguely, "It's very... step by step."

"I'm sorry for making the decision."

"I don't blame you. You have helped me a lot. I have no reason to ask you to do everything I want." Thoth shook his head, "As the night said, it is painful to wake up from a dream, but I am still glad that I am

Can you wake up...hiss...and come back?"

He covered his face, and the skin was splitting from under his palms, and the flesh and blood underneath solidified, forming black and white eyes that peeped out secrets.

The white crow quietly poked its head out of the window and quickly retreated before the Creator looked over.

While the other kings of angels were drinking and having fun, Ouroleus was painting. On the one hand, it was because his wine was not that good. When he was drunk, he would easily reveal his mythical creature form, and then use his tail to sweep all the cups and plates to the ground and secure them.

On the other hand, it is because the Lord has given Him a sacred and urgent task: to draw a picture, an illustration in the Holy Scriptures.

But what is different from the past is that the protagonist in this painting is not the Creator, nor any of the angel kings who follow Him, nor even those devout believers who have performed outstanding deeds... but a true God.

"Peeper of Secrets" path sequence 0, Hermit.

The resurrected hermit looked pale, silent, and alienated. He was very different from the way he had stood under Medici before. He had no desire to communicate with Uroleus. He just symbolically showed his authority to inspire Uroleus.

Loleus's inspiration for painting - this can easily be misread as arrogance, but Ouroleus has no feeling of being despised. On the one hand, it is because he is far less sensitive to society than to fate, and on the other hand, because,

As a mercury snake whose inspiration is too high, he can always see what others cannot see. He has the intuition that the hermit is also immersed in some scene that he can only see, and cannot extricate himself for a long time.

Ouroleus used charcoal to trace the outline of the god's eyes lowered in contemplation on the wall, and various colors of paint were placed on the wooden shelf beside him.

Red is the blood of the nightingale, used to dye the rose that symbolizes love, white is the awe-inspiring breath of frost, spat out from the snow girl's mouth, brown is the flowing soil, carrying the obsession of a farmer, and black is the ruins of the city

, showing the majesty of the flames of divine wrath, the silver one is the king's sword, but the scabbard is far more precious than the blade, the pink one is the colorful fallen flowers, and the pure land can be seen deep in the flowers...the ancient legends are reflected in the brush of the angel of fate.

The outline was revealed below. Although he himself could not know the specific meaning, he could only vaguely feel that he had left some profound message, so he added an extra layer of solemnity when he started writing.

All kinds of things piece together a winding picture, as misty as clouds and as vast as rivers. On it are blooming roses watered by nightingales with blood, floating with frost sighed by snow maidens, burning with flames symbolizing divine punishment, and piled with fornication.

The ruins of the city, the sword sleeping at the bottom of the lake, hiding a paradise untouched by war... The hermit held the scroll with one hand and threw the scroll into the distance with the other.

Finally, Ourolius lit His eyes with purple.

A pair of eyes that peep into secrets.

He concentrated on painting from sunrise to sunset, and the black crows on the bitter orange tree stood motionless from sunrise to sunset, like stone sculptures.