Secret: Those years when I was a foreign aid for the Aurora Club

5

A human said that ideals and reality are always very different.

More than a thousand years have passed since I set foot on the ground, and the seventh god came to the throne. I watched my good friend, the unique Black Emperor, fall from the sky, and also witnessed the birth of a glorious era in His hands. I saw war raging across the land, people desperately struggling to survive, leaving behind my favorite scene of desolation and decay. Then, in this peaceful era, I was sitting at the window seat of a cheap cafe in Backlund, waiting for the person arranged by the editorial department to come.

Yes, I am an angel. I'm working.

My job is to provide plays and novels to theaters and magazines. I work because I am bored. The goal of self-certifying as a demon has been achieved, so the total annihilation of the previous sect is not a big deal. The sect I re-founded in the fifth era grew wildly in the gap between war and peace, and purchased properties, which undoubtedly required a lot of money. It had been a long time since Russell Gustav's death, and they hadn't had much money. And my allies are also very poor, so they are not completely unable to expose the blame, but funds are often stretched thin, and cults are always poor.

I once asked Him when He was awake: "Are all evil gods so strapped?"

He replied with a hint of melancholy: "That's right. The Second and Fourth Era are just fine for the time being. Since the Fifth Era, many ways of obtaining resources and money have been controlled, and funds have restricted the expansion of sects and believers."

At this time, I heard one of His followers praying and thoughtfully relaying: "Your Saint said that there is insufficient funds for the activity and wants to seek your guidance."

He was silent for a moment, and then spouted out such non-sentence-like nonsense as "sown, z, ow @nswo! nsn, ds锟斤拷锟斤拷ijwj! sns, # ". It looked like this. The first time was that he fell into madness due to poverty, but his chaotic ravings were also mixed with the Russian words "no money", "it's no use asking me" and "go make money", thereby ignoring prayers and trying to escape reality.

It's so miserable. How do the Rose Bishops make money? Do they have to use flesh and blood magic to perform? So I said, "I'll sponsor a small plantation."

"Okay." He replied immediately without thinking, then paused and continued murmuring in a subtle way.

6

The person arranged by the editorial department seems to be a current best-selling novelist. I have met her once. Her decadent and self-destructive appearance, and her soul that was once contaminated with contraband can make a devil have some affection. The only drawback is that she is not He is really willing to fall, and his seemingly lifeless appearance hides a strong desire for survival, which is extremely annoying.

The wind chimes at the door rang. I raised my head and saw this young woman with long, slightly curly brown hair walking quickly and sitting across from me.

"Good afternoon, Miss Forse Wall."

As a polite gentleman, I stood up and greeted her proactively: "It seems you have brought enough interesting stories."

She smiled tiredly when she heard this. The dark circles under her eyes and being more than half an hour late revealed the fact that she was on a deadline to finish the manuscript. Miss Fors sat down, took out a thick manuscript paper from her bag, and placed it on the table.

Quite a lot. I glanced at the three-centimeter-thick paper. Although the information could be obtained in an instant, as a human being, I had to pretend to read them word for word, neither too fast nor too slow. In the process, I have to use various expressions and movements to show the posture that humans should have when reading. I hope this story is really interesting. I took it with a smile, pushed up my glasses and started to look at it. I have to finish it quickly. I will read it later today. I have to report His divine descent to my crazy allies, and communicating with Him often involves wasting a lot of time listening to His ravings.

For this reason, He specially gave me a sealed object, which is both a protection and a symbol of alliance. It is a small cross. This is the item He held when He was still the "sun". It can effectively resist the influence of pollution and nonsense, including all kinds of filthy spirits.

This is an impeccable gift, but...

But. I am, "Devil".

At least I am a demon on the surface. He gave me this sealed artifact and asked me to carry it with me. My first reaction after hearing the news was "He doesn't trust me" and "He is testing my true path." , I was cautious about this for at least ten years. Later, I confirmed through daily conversations that He didn’t think so much at all. He just really didn’t think about it.

It's too clergy-like to hang on your chest, and I'm not a believer in the Hanged Man. In the end, I chose to make this small pure cross into earrings.

7

Forsi Wall reached out and pressed his eyebrows, his eyes hurt a little. She spent the first six days of the week's deadline leisurely, at the cost of staying up almost all night last night, and was still writing furiously until half an hour before arriving. Procrastination cannot be cured, and it cannot be cured in this life. Only by rushing to a deadline can you submit it on time.

She yawned slightly, preparing to finish the conversation quickly and go back to catch up on her sleep. She squinted her eyes and looked at her collaborator sitting opposite.

Mr. Edward Vaughan is a well-known writer in Backlund. He is often commissioned to write operas and occasionally writes novellas as requested. However, most of his works are very formal, implying tragedy and a lot of irony. They were very popular in the early years. Nowadays, most people yearn for light comic operas or more entertaining dramas. His audience is often only the same serious academic scholars. , an old-fashioned gentleman.

I'm not sure about cooperating with such an old-fashioned, uh, no, serious senior... The female writer who is best at catching people's attention with romance novels scratched her hair, alas, but this time the script cooperation will be well-paid, if it can be concluded smoothly If so, I can plan a New Year's travel plan for the end of this year, and maybe I can take Xio with me...

"Miss Wall."

The other party's soft call interrupted her random thoughts.

"Miss Wall."

Forsi was stunned, raised his head, and found that the other party was looking at him. The eyes were pitch black, with a dim light shining behind the lenses, like a void, and the dark irises almost merged with the pupils, making them indistinguishable.

"Yes." She was a little embarrassed, "What's wrong?"

"According to your plot, in a pair of lovers who love each other deeply, the male protagonist dies unexpectedly, and the female protagonist is extremely sad and determined to avenge her lover." Mr. Edward adjusted his glasses and spread a page of manuscript paper in his hand on the table. He read it very seriously, "But the poor heroine has limited abilities, and in the end it was their friends who came to help and the murderer was caught... Miss Wall, I remember the editorial department's request was a comedy."

"It's indeed a comedy." Forsi sat upright with a slight embarrassment. "The friend caught the murderer with her help and gave him the punishment he deserved. Isn't this a comedy? Ah, I'm sorry. , it is my first time to participate in drama creation, maybe there is some error in your understanding..."

"Young lady, this ending is not a comedy."

Mr. Edward Vaughan commented: "... lacks tension and explosive power. Since revenge is needed, why can't this poor lady kill the enemy herself? Although she is weak, she is not weak. The power of hatred and love will make her incomparable. Powerful. If she succeeds, everyone will applaud her beautiful appearance of bathing in the blood of her enemies and crying with joy. If she dies for this, it will be a touching tragedy. The victory of the weak against the strong and righteous revenge are the audience's favorite. Plot, I believe you should have seen "The Return of the Earl", I like it very much, this famous drama about Emperor Russell."

"You're right." Foer thought for a moment, "This is my first attempt at script writing. I forgot the difference between novels and dramas, so I wasn't bold enough. I will go back and make changes... Do you have any other suggestions?"

"No more, miss, your writing is very good, but the plot drags it down because you are cautious and conservative." The middle-aged gentleman with dark brown hair has a gentle smile on his face, which makes people relax involuntarily and want to get close. He sorted out the manuscript papers intact and handed them back to Forsi, "I am very much looking forward to the final results of my cooperation with you."

If this script is successfully purchased by the theater, I can get at least 30% of the profit, which is nearly one hundred pounds! Great, it seems that this year’s New Year’s trip is planned. Not only can I bring Hugh with me, but I might even have some leftovers! Of course, the most important thing is to go back to sleep quickly - Forsi was overjoyed and immediately replied: "Thank you, Mr. Vaughn."

8

"You are the essence of withering."

"You are the great being behind the curtain of shadow, you are the monarch from the deep dark land."

Among the layers of prayers, a voice overcame them. Edward calmly stirred the coffee at hand, added a cube of sugar and a spoonful of milk, raised it to his mouth and took a sip. Pure black eyes looked towards the street outside the glass wall, reflecting the people passing by like a mirror. After Fors left, he stayed here without leaving, drinking coffee and admiring the scenery of the afternoon city, waiting for the call of his allies.

"You are the eye that sees all living things, the kind Edward Vaughn."

Edward turned his head and looked far away at the source of the prayer. In the almost dark room, a man stood quietly in the shadows with his head bowed in prayer. Judging from his stature, he was a man. A strand of long hair fell from the corner of the hood that covered his face. His face, which only showed a little outline, looked soft and enchanting, almost female. This is an acquaintance. There are many crazy believers under his allies, and he will definitely be ranked high.

Mr. A felt the gaze from afar, and continued to pray without changing his expression: "...Dear His Royal Highness the Angel of the Abyss, our Lord just sent down the oracle, and the time has come, inviting you to go to His sanctuary for dialogue."

Edward nodded and responded, "I understand."

After extinguishing the image of praying, he silently recited the name of the true Creator in his heart, and then felt a roaring chaotic whisper in his ears. A ray of consciousness passed through an extremely long distance and was accurately located by the ally, and then was taken away. When he opened his eyes again, he was already standing in the deepest Kingdom of Shadows. The squirming flesh and broken limbs were the floor under his feet. Broken human bodies and bones covered with corrosion marks were piled up everywhere. On the peak in the distance stood an inverted cross that was higher than that mountain peak. The Evil God who was hanging upside down on it was covered in blood. A blood-red vertical eye moved up and down for a few seconds, and then stared at Him.

"Good afternoon, allies."

Edward was used to it. He used the black cane of unknown material in his hand to push away the flesh and blood tentacles that were trying to wrap around his legs and feet. He still had a gentle smile on his face: "You seem to be in good condition now."

The voice of the true Creator rumbled, flesh and blood knelt down, and the corpse trembled: "How is the situation?"

"It went very smoothly." Edward said, "The seeds have been planted, and the mother's body is emotionally stable, but the facilitator is restless, and there are still some traces of twisted fate. I will continue to help you keep an eye on everything."

9

"That's right." After the detailed exchange of information, I said, "While you are in good condition, would you like to try my newly learned cake?"

Hearing this, the red eyeballs of the True Creator shook violently. Before I could say anything else, He threw the space where I was standing out together. I didn't even have time to sell a few more words. What a good way to end the conversation, I will use it next time - I returned to the cafe and heard His roar intermittently coming from the sanctuary, echoing in my ears:

"don't want!"

"It tastes bad, British...it tastes bad, eat it yourself!"

How rude. I drank the cold coffee in one gulp, stood up to pay, and felt confident in my role as a human being.

TBC

①The script is a metaphor for Dai Li, but you can imagine what will happen specifically.

②Edward’s cooking is delicious but not delicious in order to play the stereotype of “British”. Zhenzao was scared to eat it. Zhenzao: Stop being a human being.