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

10

Admissor lowered his head and walked carelessly. Wearing an old top and blue coarse trousers, he walked unsteadily on the street. His goal was the workhouse on Iron Cross Street in Tingen. This is a workhouse sponsored by the "Ernst Charitable Foundation", a long-established charity headquartered in Intis. The Ernst Foundation has been established for more than 150 years. It has large and small workhouses and welfare homes. There are countless charity schools all over the world. There is even one in the lower streets of Tingen, which is not a big city.

Admissor, who was born with excessive inspiration, often fell into trances and murmured, and could hardly work normally to support himself. He relied on odd jobs and aid in the workhouse to survive with difficulty.

"Our Mr. 'Monster' is back!"

He walked into the almshouse and handed the purchase list to the person in charge. Then a familiar female caregiver greeted him warmly, led him to the dining table, and put down a vegetable soup with several pieces of fingernail-sized meat visible. And two slices of toast, and one piece of bad butter. The children in the workhouse who were learning to sew happened to have their lunch break. They ran over with joy and chirped around Admisor like a flock of swallows.

"Sir! Mr. Monster!" A little boy holding a primary literacy textbook squeezed in front of him, his eyes turned around on the meat in the vegetable soup, and he grabbed the spoon with what he thought was a very subtle movement.

A slightly older girl glared at the little boy, who retracted her hand angrily, her eyes still rolling on her flesh: "What kind of story are you going to tell us today?"

"Story..." Admissor murmured, his cloudy eyes squinting, and he couldn't tell whether he was sleepwalking or awake.

He once told the children about the scene he sensed. He said he saw a young man with a strong aura of death on his body, as if he had just crawled out of a grave; he said he saw a gentleman with gray eyes behind him. A dark inverted cross emerged, and just a glance made him almost die; he also said that he dreamed of a disaster, the whole city was submerged in a sea of ​​blood, everyone died, and he was rolling in pain. Wailing, shedding blood and tears... But the children don't understand, and the people in the workhouse don't understand either. They can't understand, and even if they understand, they can't change the future.

Only the Nighthawks were alert to his hallucinations, and the gentleman seemed to have been treated, but the final result was unknown. But regarding his dream that everyone in the city was dead, even the Nighthawks were suspicious. They didn't know what would happen, and they didn't know where to start investigating.

"There is no story." He said, "Dead, there is no story anymore..."

Admissor was so sad that he could not speak, but the children around him looked at me and I looked at you. They did not lose their enthusiasm because of these words and continued to ask questions happily.

11

"Go, go, kids, it's time for a nap. You have other classes to do in the afternoon!" An old woman in her fifties smiled and drove the children away. "It's going to be provided to the Heiye Welfare Institute. The fabric will be delivered tonight, and the children who can’t finish it will have no candy this week!”

The children dispersed in a hurry and rushed to sleep.

Then, the kind old woman - the director of the workhouse - breathed a sigh of relief, sat opposite Admissor with a smile, and asked a slightly targeted question: "Are you still doing that? A dream about dead people everywhere in Tingen?”

"..." Admissor chewed the bread slowly and nodded after a long time.

"My Goddess." The dean took a breath of air and lit a red moon on his chest, "I hope my lovely children are okay."

"Everyone will die." The monster said with confusion on his face, "Who stirred up the sea of ​​blood, and just one wave submerged this place. Human beings are so fragile, what is the meaning of life...?"

"...Life is a journey of accumulating suffering and happiness. Life is just a journey from life to death." After a moment of silence, the dean spoke softly and said this sentence that does not exist in "Apocalypse of the Night", The voice was so low that only Admissor could hear it clearly. Finally, she thought for a moment and asked carefully, "Your talent is very rare. We need your power to investigate this matter. Do you want to consider assisting us?"

The words about the journey and the tour made Admissor, who lowered his head to eat, slightly widen his eyes, as if he had heard something incredible. He swallowed the soup, and the hot temperature sliding down his throat made him sober up a little. A strange river surged forward around his consciousness. He felt that he was in a trance again. The gentle and loving dean opposite looked at him worriedly, and he couldn't help but murmured:

"……Coming……"

12

As an Outer God, I know that there is a tragically thick barrier between humans and me, which stems from the huge difference in life levels.

I stared at that small city. There was no protection from a demigod-level expert, nor a powerful enough sealed object. I couldn't think of any reason for failure. As for the scammer who always tries to escape, I also gave a certain warning. From the dream world, I can't think of a gentler method than this. But he was even more frightened, almost to the point of madness.

I cannot remember the name of every individual human being, just as humans cannot accurately distinguish individual ants. Therefore, when I encounter an unusual human being that I need to remember, I always choose a unique characteristic as a code name.

The reason for his fear is "I will definitely die when the Son of God is born. How can a mere mortal be worthy of being the father of the Son of God?" I think this fear is very meaningless. It would be a bit disrespectful to the evil god to take the initiative to participate in the cult's ritual without being prepared to die. He obviously didn't know that he was also one of the vessels that came, even more hidden than the seeds that had been planted.

The allies have made double insurance for this divine descending plan. In the process of finalizing the plan with him, I deeply felt how "generous" the treatment blocked by the seven gods was, making him become obsessive-compulsive and care about details. God. I remember that in the thousand years since I formed an alliance with Him, there would be a divine descent every hundred years, and all ended in various failures. In comparison, I, the evil god who has been walking on the earth since the beginning, is so blessed that I don’t know how to be blessed.

Of course, as a reliable ally and an excellent and generous "remnant of the old days", I should help him fall to the ground as soon as possible.

But reality and ideals are often the opposite. In each of His failed divine descents, there is always the figure of Adam, the eldest son who was created when He was still the "sun" and is now the half-body of the audience, the King of Angels. And I can't touch Him, and I don't want to touch Him. My humanity is false, and my image is simulated. When I get along with the King of Angels, who is best at discerning people’s hearts, I can’t guarantee that my secret will not be exposed.

It's not that I can't be killed, but at the moment I'm just a Sequence 2 angel passing by, and switching to my own authority will attract attention.

Therefore, whenever I find Him, I immediately retreat far away.

"This time...must..."

His words rang in my ears again. Okay, I answered Him, as long as Adam doesn't interfere this time, I will definitely try my best to help you.

Passing by the theater, I saw actors who had changed into costumes and were conducting a simple rehearsal in the open space behind. One person was dressed as a prisoner, his clothes were ragged, his eyes were filled with fear and hatred, and the other person was dressed as a clerk, with his toes on his toes. Arrogantly speaking words of love to a weeping girl. After a brief glance, I understood that this was rehearsing the first few scenes of "The Return of the Count". It tells the story of an innocent sailor who was framed and imprisoned, and was forced to be separated from his beautiful fiancée for fourteen years.

……oh. Not a sailor, but a genius mechanic.

When we got to know each other, this is what I said: "The Count of Monte Cristo is really good, and it's a bit like your The Return of the Count."

Every time at this time, I want to express my gratitude to the wonderful effect of the "generalist" path, being able to write down this novel from beginning to end word for word. Even though I have completely devoured and digested the soul of "Edward Vaughn", the memory of ordinary humans is already weak, and most of the pages I have read have been blurred, leaving only fragments of words.

But after all, he is also an associate professor at a university. Although his major is not suitable for me, if I read his memories hundreds of times and match them with my own fabrications, I can still pull out a few books such as... "Thousand Years of Solitude", Big books like "Sleeping Flower Girl" and "The Orphan of Backlund".

But on the surface, it’s enough to have Roselle, a remnant of the past. I remember that the Xuanhuang Tianzun of Fusheng had hundreds of light cocoons, large and small, hanging in his essence. I don’t know what they are used for. If you want to use them all Let it go, it’s hard to imagine what the world will become like.

13

I still remember my first meeting with Russell, when he was still an outstanding genius under the God of Steam and Machinery. I approached as a remnant of the past, and He quickly accepted me as a stranger, even though He and I were not from the same country.

This is in line with my judgment about human beings, which is that human beings can never get rid of their attachment to their origin-homeland. (It’s hard to understand, obviously this is the earth.) When you are not far from home, you long to play with your neighbors; when you study in a different place, you long for your fellow villagers from the same city; when you are alone in a foreign country, you will feel excited when you see people from the same country. Excited.

And in this "world" where there are no other time-travelers, Russell is alone in this "world". Only he and I are from the same era.

Russell asked: Lao... no, international friend, where did you get this?

I answer: Sequence 2 of the devil’s path, angel.

Russell was shocked: I am super, Chainsaw Man.

I felt confused, but I didn’t say anything, leaving Him alone there in embarrassment, embarrassment, and then falling into the loneliness of no one responding.

TBC

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*There is an angel and demon in the comic "Chainsaw Man" by freelance cartoonist Shu Fujimoto.