Ark: I adopted Seria at the beginning

At this time, workers in a factory in Kazdale were holding a celebration party to celebrate the completion of a major project they had just completed.

Although they had just taken a break and immediately received the next order, they had no complaints.

Because for them now. Having a safe job to do, getting paid, and having food and clothing is their greatest happiness now.

Not to mention that you now have to work an hour less than before, now you only have to work 9 hours.

There are still three days before the next start of work, which means they have three days to celebrate and have fun.

"Brother, I heard that you can write songs?" A sturdy worker patted a young boy with a delicate face and said.

"Yes, I used to be a musician, but I just left school after suffering from mineral sickness." The young man said with a slight embarrassment.

"Sir, you are really a great talent. A Sakaz who can play music is harder to find than those so-called maharajas."

"Uncle, please stop praising me. I'm really not that good."

"It's like this. My co-workers and I have something we would like to ask you for help with."

"If you have any questions, just come and tell me. I will definitely help you within my ability."

The strong worker cleared his throat and said sincerely:

"Sir, we would like to ask you to write a song for us workers, do you think it is okay?"

When he heard that he was asked to write a song, the young man was a little surprised. He waved his hands quickly and said, "No, I haven't been exposed to music for a long time. If you ask me to write a song, I guess I can't even sing it myself."

"Sir, we don't need any profound music, we just need a piece of music that reflects us, no matter what the song is, as long as it can be sung.

As you know, although life in this factory is better than before, the roar of the machines is too noisy, and we need some music to relieve our boredom."

After speaking, the worker took out a bag of things from his backpack.

"Sir, this is a little money that my co-workers and I put together. Please, please create a song for us."

"Sir, you're serious. I can't accept this money. I'll give it a try about music..."

In the end, the young man accepted the money. This was not because he was greedy, but because the worker's eyes were too sincere.

It would be rude not to accept it.

Returning to his small home in the evening, the boy began to think about song creation.

Three days.

He only had three days.

To be honest, there is absolutely no problem in writing a completely illogical song in three days.

It also perfectly meets the demands of this group of workers.

But when the boy thought about the workers' desire for him and their trust in him, the boy felt that he could never just deal with it casually.

This is irresponsible to oneself and even more blasphemous to music.

But writing a good song is not easy.

The boy wrote over and over again on the paper in his hand all night long, and wiped it again and again.

In just one night, the trash can next to me was already full of scraps.

He didn't stop until daybreak. He didn't create a song.

But he had run out of paper.

"Go buy paper. I hope that store is open now."

The boy put on his coat and ran quickly to the canteen in the center of the city in the morning breeze.

Perhaps he was a little tired after a night of hard work. He had just run 100 meters when he tripped over a slightly larger stone on the road. He accidentally fell heavily to the ground.

It seemed that he stood up tremblingly, wiped the blood on his hands casually, and then wanted to run again.

But the blur in his eyes forced him to sit down and rest for a while.

"Maybe I shouldn't be so anxious,"

The boy was lying on the abandoned pile of rocks, ready to squint his eyes and rest for a while, even though his home was only 100 meters away from him.

But as soon as he closed his eyes, he heard a loud sound.

Excavator? Really unlucky today.

He said this to himself, but didn't he get up.

He is too tired.

The boy still closed his eyes, preparing to endure the noisy machine.

Slowly, his consciousness began to become weak, as if he was about to fall asleep.

At this time, the mechanical sounds nearby were getting louder and more diverse.

In his chaotic consciousness, the young man suddenly remembered the worker's words to him.

We want to dance on steel.

Dancing on steel.

steel......

As if for a moment, the young man who was still confused seemed to suddenly not feel the noise of the machine next to him.

There was silence.

But soon the voice came to mind.

It’s the sound of an excavator digging through the sand.

Grain is growing. That is the sound of a seeder.

The violent knocking was the sound of the forging machine.

Now it seems that all the sounds are reaching the young man's ears, but it does not seem confusing to the young man's ears now.

The young man now wanted to open his eyes and see what was going on around him, but there seemed to be a voice in his heart telling him not to wake up.

Time passed like this, and the sound of the drum tower's mechanical ensemble seemed to have reached its climax.

In an instant all the machines started running.

The young man seemed to hear a voice at this moment.

"It's work!"

This sound woke him up immediately, but when he woke up, he saw the sun shining directly on him.

He immediately turned his head and looked around, and found that there was no machine nearby. The sound of the machine came from a distant factory, and it was no longer so clear and loud when it reached his ears.

Naturally, there was no one around.

But the boy couldn't care about this now. He seemed to still be thinking about the roar and melody of the machine in his mind.

This is his inspiration.

Be sure to write this thing down.

for sure!

for sure!

The boy ran, but this time it was not in the direction of the grocery store, but in the direction of his own home.

He returned home and searched frantically for anything he could write on.

When he couldn't find any paper, he opened his own stove, but unfortunately he had never used this thing since the house was built. He usually ate in the cafeteria.

How to do?

Now the boy felt that the sound in his ears was leaving him.

At this time, he looked at his slightly bruised hands, which were seeing a little blood coming out.

Isn't this just ink?

Isn't the ground just paper?

The young man looked at a knife hanging on the wall. It was the weapon he had used when he was a mercenary.

Many people died on this knife.

But now this knife was like his life-saving straw. He immediately rushed to the wall and pulled out his own knife.

The sharp cold light of the knife flashed across his eyes. Even if it had not been used for a long time, it was still very sharp.

Better to carve with a dagger than hurt yourself?

No, that's too slow.

The young man drew the knife across his palm without hesitation, and blood instantly flowed to the ground.

The boy also used his finger as a pen to trace traces of notes and melody on the ground.

As time passed, his blood became paler and paler.

Finally, when the sun shone through his window, it illuminated his snow-white complexion.

With an excited shout.

The melody is finally complete.

This is their song, a song watered with their blood.