An hour ago.

Through the maze-like corridor, two figures ran silently. The dim and pale firelight cast their figures on the ground, and the smaller shadow jumped up from time to time, and whenever it returned to the ground again, black and red blood was bound to splash on the wall.

But before they could fuse together, the exposed core was crushed by the following man—

Randy Panther is in a bad mood.

Just as they had planned, Mora made all the preparations and finally got the key to unlock the collar. As long as they are alive, the plan can continue.

Look now, they are indeed still alive, and at the same time they have once again faced the expected failure. It seemed that the demon of Wither Castle had no extra sympathy to wield, but it didn't manage to harm Mora either - thanks to the Dragon's Breath dagger or not, it was the best he could think of.

It was himself who really brushed past the **** of death, Randy sighed bitterly.

All were within their expectations.

It's only one step away.

The patrolling puppet team staggered past, and the two squeezed into the depression of the building that had been calculated, and the curse came in handy at this moment. They don't need a full two-person space.

"This distance should be enough, we have to activate those magic stones." Mora muttered, with a pale face that symbolized depression. She looked like she wanted a hug, but ended up stretching one arm and pressing the upper arm of the other. "I really want to get out of this hell... Randy?"

The tall killer bowed his head and did not answer.

"Are you blaming yourself for killing Ramon? It's not like you." Mora said dryly, "Ramon is a nice guy, but in a place like this..."

"I didn't kill him." Looking at the distant puppet team, Randy kept his voice low, "Actually on the contrary, he could have killed me."

Mora frowned, stopped the movement of her hands, and pursed her mouth tightly. She stared at her lover's swollen wrist—she could only do some emergency spell healing, so that it could barely function normally.

"Then he... conceded defeat." Randy flexed his wrist. "How stupid."

The female killer looked away. "...how stupid."

They walk in the dark, and they will not count the number of lives on their hands. No one knows better than a killer how little life is. Blades down the throat, precise thrusts, thrusts, curses, even malicious words—they're as fragile as church stained-glass windows.

When that moment comes, there is no dying confession, no honorable memory. There was only crying, disbelief, and animal-like struggle, and then those lives came to an abrupt end.

Taking the life of a fellow man is numbing. Even if the targets are screened in advance, even if they know that most of them are deserved. As if separated from the world by a thick membrane, many things gradually became indifferent—

Including their own lives.

They probably know that, Randy thought. They know very well that they can no longer fall in love with others, and can no longer leave this nightmare. Wake up every day, breathing, heartbeat all become some kind of task. The love is still there, but they themselves are becoming less and less human. And as the situation worsened, they gradually became the only ones who could understand each other.

A vicious circle.

I try my best to keep the remaining moral sense, and help people who will not hurt their own interests. Relying on this practice to gain a little warmth, it gives the illusion that he is still living a normal life.

And once the other party touches their own interests...

Randy looked down at his scarred fingers. "Next target...any idea?"

"There will always be," Mora said.

"...Since we're not in a hurry, let's play the 'dangerous game' again, shall we?"

"Are you crazy? In this kind of place? We are not stupid young people, and raising the difficulty out of thin air will only...just...I know, you don't want to activate the magic stone inside and trigger the martial law alarm ."

"Hmm."

"Ramon was thrown into the furnace and it was only a matter of time before he died."

"I know."

"Don't do meaningless things." Mora reminded dryly.

"A person pierced through the heart will die, right?"

"Of course."

"Karamon isn't dead." Randy pulled out a wry smile, "I even think he's breathing right now—in that furnace. Mora, you know what the furnace will be like after martial law. The gatekeepers will temporarily cut off all control forces, completely seal it off, and the inside of the furnace will be out of control." And Ramon was thrown down alive, perhaps the gatekeepers have more plans.

"Anyway, that furnace will eat everything in the end." Mora's tone was flat, "You must trigger martial law to divert those **** puppets. Otherwise, the puppets and the guards will rush up together, although they can Deal with ... but that's definitely not the best solution."

"I will protect you, you will not be hurt."

"Of course I know, but you will. Your... stupid decision like this can save Ramon a few more minutes at most." The petite female killer raised her head, "Just A few minutes, does it make a difference? It really doesn't make sense—"

"Yes." He reached out, caressed the other's hand lightly—and passed through it in vain, like it was just a phantom. "Aren't we doing 'meaningless' things all the time?"

It will not be good to do so many things, but it will only add a few more wounds.

The female killer laughed suddenly.

It wasn't a wry smile, it wasn't a big laugh, it was a strange, even childish smile. "Your words don't match your dead expression at all, stupid stake," she murmured. "You...a bit like you before."

Yes, now that I think about it, their life is like a joke. But their destination has long been set by the devil, and they can only run straight in that direction. She has forgotten the mood to slow down and take detours, and even wants to continue to move forward towards that impossible goal.

In a sense, they were the same young fool in the furnace.

"Let's go." The female killer turned out of the depression of the building and stretched out her right hand, like an invitation to dance. "You have to protect me!"

"Hmm."

The puppets arrived at their speculative time and, as calculated, found them exactly. Human-shaped monsters flooded in like a tide, and the heavy shield was thrown away, occasionally splashing a little blood belonging to human beings.

"What a nuisance!" Mora panted, cutting off a puppet's arm. "When it's over, you've got to treat me to Trevor's cake! If it wasn't for Ramon, we might have been in the hotel by now—how long would it take? God, these things are tough."

"Behind me." Randy said calmly, the shield crushing the metal golem to the ground. "Just be patient, as long as half an hour passes..."

Their field of vision was suddenly empty.

The metal golems fell to the ground, their shiny parts quickly decayed, and with a harsh hiss, they quickly turned into a pool of debris. A black figure suddenly fell to the ground - a pale young man raised his head, his hands were empty, his black-gray robe almost melted into the night.

"Ramon." The stranger pinched the last puppet, and they watched it turn to ashes. "You know Oliver Ramon?"

"Where is he?"

Nemo doesn't know if he can still think clearly.

Now he does not have the ability to forget, he will not forget where the star lit up, and naturally knows where the Withering Castle is at this moment. But the star that represented Oliver kept dimming—when he ripped open the sky all the way and finally reached the mountain-like castle, that star had... no longer glowed.

It went out.

Choking and dazedness overwhelm him for a moment. Nemo stopped over the castle, as if pinned in place by a sudden freezing of time. impossible. Not so, he thought slowly.

This is not possible.

The air was still warm, and the dark blue sky was strewn with diamond-like stars. The quaint castles are sleeping among the mountain peaks, which is a very beautiful sight, but he finds them particularly annoying, like delicate desserts growing with mold.

Has Oliver gone?

Because they are one step late, they can't meet again? That meeting in the Church of Silent was their farewell?

It shouldn't be.

The panic and despair gnawed at his nerves, he almost failed to control his strength, and the whole person fell from the sky. Nemo knew it was time for him to calm down, he knew. But even this time he tried to break his palm, trying to use the pain to calm himself. But that chaotic despair was like a gangrene attached to the bones, which could not be shaken off at all.

Until someone mentions that name.

Nimo didn't think much of it. Without thinking whether it was a trap, the opponent was an enemy or a companion, he rushed straight down.

Everything that follows is like a broken and dizzying dream.

The unfamiliar man and woman hesitated for a moment, and finally chose to guide him. They took him all the way to his destination. Nemo didn't bother to speculate about the other party's purpose and whether he was lying. He needs a straw, anything.

Nothing could hurt him after all. But his lover may have died in despair—

"Are you Nemo Wright of Tumbleweed?" The man spoke as he quietly broke through the barriers.

“…Yes.”

"Mr. Ramon has something to say to you." The man hesitated for a while, "You'd better... control your power. Considering your current state, I think you need to listen first."

Nemo stopped for a moment, even breathing. It's like someone cast a petrification spell.

He listened very carefully.

But "the one who used to be the devil" no longer knows how many people he has killed. Is he really qualified to talk about "principles" now?

But he hadn't had time to tell Oliver that "Nimo Wright" wasn't to be believed...he couldn't even believe himself.

How dare that **** die with such self-confidence.

If a miracle does happen, if they do meet again, then he will definitely beat that fool when they meet again. But when the furnace disappeared, the figure appeared again. He couldn't hold back his emotions at all—

As the world answered his wish.

The gray mist dissipated, and with a harsh warning sound, a shadow stood quietly on the empty flat ground. The furnace didn't even leave a wreckage. The man also wore a strange skeleton helmet on his head, and the blood-stained bones covered the upper half of his face. The armor was vaguely that of a silent knight, but it was bumpy and scratched.

And that sword, Nemo had witnessed its birth.

Even if the breath becomes illegible, even if the power fluctuates erratically and strangely, he will never admit it wrong.

At the intersection of despair and ecstasy, his heart almost exploded. Go to his world, go to his devil. Nemo walked towards the figure, beginning with a calm pace, then galloping.

Now he can't find him in the starry sky, and he doesn't know why the knight's oath was broken. But now those puzzles are no longer important. Nemo hugged the armored figure tightly, and he could hear the familiar heartbeat from the armor.

"Oli," he whispered, "I'll pick you up."

And ecstasy followed by anger and mourning.

"...I'll treat you right now." He trembled, not daring to confirm the other's physical condition. "You don't move, I..."

At this moment, the person he embraced finally moved.

Oliver gripped the hilt of the Sword of Rest tightly with his right hand, and held Nemo's wrist lightly with his left. Beneath the dried blood stains, the engraved mark was still dazzling.

"Nimo." His voice was hoarse and soft. "I love you. I never mentioned that to you, did I?"

"I don't want to erase these wounds... If you're hallucinating, that's the best hallucination ever. If you're not—"

Oliver raised his eyes and looked at the Withered Castle in the night. "Then can you wait for me for a while?"

"We'll talk more after this place disappears."

(m..=)