Sherlock Holmes

Among the nursery rhymes circulated in the empire, there are always sentences such as "the stars in the sky are like eyes, blinking and shining brightly". In the minds of children, they should be able to experience some wonder and warmth from them. , and some naughty senses.

However, if an adult raises his head, stares at the starry sky, and thinks of these nursery rhymes again, he will face the densely packed eyes in the sky that make people suffer from trypophobia. They are empty and can never be touched. In this position, staring at everything in the world all night long, what a terrifying scene it would be.

At this time, under the gaze of countless eyeballs, Sherlock's hand trembled slightly.

Then, he opened his eyes.

Under the sky, a person looked up at the stars, and a pair of eyes began to look at the endless eyes. Of course, Sherlock did not recall these songs from his childhood, nor did he feel that the stars in the sky were really watching him. He just He sat up drowsily and began to look around.

A vast white snowfield, black and white peaks on the side, and a demon next to him that was mostly buried in the snow.

That is Crimson who has established a contractual relationship with herself.

Sherlock frowned.

Obviously, if you think according to common sense, you should still be in the armored vehicle at this moment, buried very deep under the snow. Then now that you are standing under the stars, something must have dug you out.

Although his mind was still groggy, he still came to a very absurd inference in an instant.

So, he continued to frown and walked towards Crimson, who was now mostly buried in the snow. But under such a large avalanche, how could it be buried in such a shallow place.

Looking not far away, you will find an uneven area in the snow, which has obviously been dug out and then hastily filled in.

In short, everywhere you look, everything is panicked and sloppily disguised.

Sherlock has never had a dog, but he can feel that the scene in front of him is like a dog that has a fever and starts to tear up the house crazily. After waking up, he realizes that he has made a mistake, so he can only hastily Clean up, then get into the nest, pretending that it has nothing to do with you.

"Hello"

Sherlock walked up to Crimson and looked at the bumbling guy with blank eyes: "Did you rescue me?"

Crimson didn't react at all, just like a normal contracted demon that would never move at all without instructions from the contractor.

"Get up, stop pretending, I know you have your own consciousness."

He said weakly, but Crimson remained motionless.

Sherlock swayed for a moment and fell to the ground. Although his energy had recovered, the low temperature and hunger made him extremely weak.

"The last time we fought with Ulysses' team, you were the one who sent me back to the military base. In fact, I was suspicious of you at that time." His voice was weak and inaudible, but between the contracted creature and its master, The connection between them allowed Shen Hong to still understand the other party's meaning: "I don't have time to play games with you here now, but I have to tell you that if I continue to stay here, I will die due to low temperature. If I follow the contract If there is a feedback effect between the killer and the devil, if I die, you will not end well. According to my guess about my physical condition, I can probably live for about five hours. I need food and treatment.

So, send me to Nightingale quickly, I don't have the energy to control you now. "

Hearing this, the crimson in front of him finally reacted. He stretched out his hand and pushed aside the snow covering his body:

"You've discovered it a long time ago. Why didn't you tell me earlier? It made me lie in the sedative all the time."

A low growl came from the crimson throat, and because of the connection between the two, Sherlock could also understand what the other person meant.

"I want to continue to observe you for a while. You also know that in this place where birds don't shit, you have to find something to do for fun."

"Well, although I don't quite understand your human thoughts, you seem to be really weak."

As he spoke, Crimson sat up, then lifted up Sherlock and put it on his shoulders. Then he looked at the endless snowfield around him, and communicated with Sherlock in a daze, "The problem now is , how do you know that human girl is still alive?"

"The surgical area where she was located was about 300 meters away from me. Judging from the speed of the falling snow at the time, she had at least 3 seconds to escape. That guy Watson has never left her side since he came to the front line. The time is It’s enough.”

Sherlock leaned against the protruding part of the exoskeleton on Crimson's shoulder and spoke feebly. At the same time, he pointed in a direction with his finger:

"The flow of snow is this way. These frontline soldiers are not idiots. They know which direction to run in. Also, if you pick up a few iron plates that you just tore off, bend the steel bars and tie them to your feet, you can Make it easier for us to walk on the snow."

After hearing this, Crimson followed the instructions. Soon, this figure, which looked extremely lonely and small under the snow-capped mountains and wilderness, moved forward in a certain direction with difficulty, and gradually disappeared into the wind and snow.

Just like two drunken friends who openly tell their secrets, Sherlock and Crimson also decided to discuss how a demon had its own independent consciousness along the way. .

Crimson's first words made Sherlock fall into deep thought.

"Although you keep calling me Crimson, if you look at it from a certain perspective, you can still call me Thinking Palace."

"."

"I know it's hard to understand because I don't understand what's going on."

"Then pick the one you understand clearly."

This feeling is very strange. From the perspective of a bystander, Sherlock and Crimson are trudging through the ice and snow. The surroundings are completely silent except for the sound of wind. It can even give people a feeling of despair, but In the minds of the two of them, the first real dialogue between humans and demons in this world was going on.

"Let me pick the easiest part to understand first. First of all, I think I am the Holy Light." Crimson squatted down, adjusted a large armor plate tied to his feet, and said.

"." Sherlock was silent for a moment: "In your opinion, this is the easiest part to understand?"

Although he had had this kind of speculation before, he still felt extremely weird when he heard a demon say such words in his head.

"Yes." Crimson stood up and quickened his pace: "But I don't seem to be the Holy Light.

Because the Holy Light should not have a thinking mode that can communicate with a human being.

But I can communicate with you without any barriers. In the past year and a half, I have watched everything you have gone through, and I have been able to understand more or less how human society operates.

For example, I can even understand that before humans seek to reproduce, the female and the male each need to release a pheromone. You call the influence of this pheromone on reason - love. "

Sherlock is very weak now, and he is very grateful for this, otherwise he really doesn't know what kind of expression he should put on, and a demon is actually explaining [love] to him.

"Where did you learn this stuff?"

"There was a couple in the demon storage area in War Zone 404. They were flirting in front of me for a whole month. You see, I also learned the word flirting at that time." Crimson said seriously: "Also, based on my last rescue of the trapped military team, I think that the girl named Nightingale may have had this pheromone change on you, but she herself But she didn’t realize this, maybe you should remind her.”

"Okay." Sherlock wanted to rub his head, but he couldn't lift his arms: "Let's talk about you. You said you are the Holy Light, but not the Holy Light?"

"Based on my current logic, this is it.

I say I am the Holy Light because in a certain layer of my thinking that can be called memory, I can clearly recall that this is what the servants of God call me.

But I personally do not recognize the identity of [Holy Light].

Because I don’t understand the Holy Light myself. I just have some memories of the servants of God worshiping me, and I don’t seem to have the ability to know all things. The most important thing is that this continent is separated from the Holy Light. The light covers the area, but I exist.

From this point of view, it seems that I am not the Holy Light.

This feeling is very subtle, and with my current ability to express myself, I can only describe it so far. "

Sherlock was silent, and after a few seconds, he sighed slightly.

Originally, he thought he could learn what the Holy Light was from the demon's mouth, but he didn't expect that the other party was even more confused than him.

"So, how long have you had this sense of self?"

"Probably after being transported to the front line."

"That is to say, you only had thoughts after you escaped from the envelope of the Holy Light?"

"Um."

"Do you know the reason?"

"I don't know." Crimson seemed to have adapted to the pressure changes in the steel-like layer under his feet. He tried to speed up his pace and started running on the frozen snow: "So it stands to reason that I am in your human cognition. I should be considered a baby who is just about three months old, so you can’t expect me to understand too many things.”

"No one would associate a third-level demon who is six to seven meters tall and can hit 20 tons of impact with one fist with a three-month-old baby." Sherlock said calmly.

"Then the inherent prejudice of human beings, age has nothing to do with size or strength. Age is just the accumulation of time. Master? Master?"

Crimson whispered a few times in consciousness and found that Sherlock on her shoulder had passed out.

As he said himself, hypothermia and hunger seemed to be slowly taking away his life.

Crimson fell silent. He gently grabbed the thin body on his shoulders with his hands, used his palms to resist the biting cold wind around him, accelerated his pace, and started running in the direction pointed by his master just now.

In fact, if a creature has some basic self-understanding, then it will naturally think about some issues.

【Who am I, why do I appear, where am I going】

No one can escape these three oldest topics of conversation.

Crimson naturally also thought about how he appeared. According to his review and understanding of himself during this period, he felt that he had some thoughts because he escaped from the envelope of the holy light.

But in fact, this is just an opportunity.

Another opportunity is that it is Sherlock's contracted creature, but it did not become a contracted demon through the normal contract method or the method controlled by wild demons.

It is essentially controlled by Sherlock's tentacles.

And the most important point is that

Nightingale had treated it at some point before.

Thinking about it now, it seems that what Crimson was healed at that time was not just the injuries on the surface of the body.

Thousands of years of snow that had fallen from the top of the mountain roared for more than a hundred kilometers before finally stopping.

Tens of thousands of demons and imperial soldiers were buried, but some people survived in the end.

Some chariots fell sporadically in the snow. With the help of the vehicle body, some people climbed out with difficulty. Their bodies were covered with wounds scratched and bitten by demons, and they turned purple from the cold in the snow. Fortunately, they stopped because of this. Lived the blood.

Although it looks extremely miserable, it can be imagined that the dense group of demons at that time must not have come for these people. Otherwise, based on that formation, there would definitely not even be a skeleton left in this group of imperial soldiers.

Even so, there were still some people who did not have time to hide under the overturned transport truck and were trampled alive into a pulp.

Watson crawled out from behind an overturned chariot. His hair was a little messy, his body was covered in dried blood and minced meat, and a miserable wound extended from his left shoulder to his side ribs.

I have never seen him so embarrassed.

He paid great attention to his own image at all times, but at this moment he didn't care at all about his desolate appearance. He didn't even comb his hair, leaving a few pieces of meat hanging on it hanging in front of his face, and just stood there blankly. In the snow, looking around.

He seemed to be looking for something.

He knew he couldn't find it.

He lowered his head and looked at his hand, which had a huge bloody opening. There was a glove in his palm.

It was supposed to be in the hands of Miss Nightingale, but he failed to protect the girl after all when the demons swept through her.

Watson recalled that scene, his legs softened, and he knelt in the snow. Then his whole body began to tremble. He gradually curled up his legs, buried Lian between his knees, and hugged him tightly. It seems that he wants to compress himself into a small thing that no one can see.

Some small crying sounds were heard, mixed with the extremely degrading sound of sniffling.

This gentleman, just like this, was crying like the most hopeless child.