[Comprehensive British and American] After the mage traveled through the super British world

Cyril rarely slept, and even less dreamed.

"Did you see it?" Cyril turned his head and pointed to the young dragon taking a nap in the stream and mountain stream in the distance, "This is our goal for today."

The human with black hair and black eyes rolled up his sleeves and shook his head helplessly: "It's just the two of us, is it really okay?"

Cyril in the dream still looked immature, and his height was only 1.7 meters. He stretched out his hand and patted the shoulder of the big man next to him, wrinkled his nose and said, "Didn't you say that? Only by killing this An evil dragon that attacks cities and villages, and you will be honored as a dragon slayer, and your father will let you go home. What are you afraid of? If you die, you will be resurrected. Is this dragon more terrifying than your father?"

The handsome human prince grabbed Cyril's fingertips, squeezed them lightly, and looked down at the elf who looked only fifteen or sixteen years old: "I know Kostur, my people and It's been fine for nearly a hundred years, and it's not a brutal, bloodthirsty dragon. There's something wrong with it."

The innocent elf didn't notice the other party's overly intimate gesture at all, but asked impatiently, "Then shall we leave?"

"I don't want anything to happen to you."

Hearing the other party's words, the young elf snorted: "Come on, when will it be your human's turn to worry about me?"

So, the fledgling Cyril simply jumped out from behind the tree, took out his magic bow, and shot a icy arrow towards the sleeping baby dragon.

The human prince wearing an ordinary warrior's armor sighed resignedly, and rushed forward holding a shield.

In the end, the elves and humans lay side by side next to the corpse of the young dragon, looking up at the setting sun wrapped in white clouds, and at their feet was the small river stained red with the blood of the young dragon.

"Why don't you pick things up, Heinciri?"

"I just need to take its head to Dawn Fortress to exchange for the Dragon Slayer Medal, and you can take the rest."

"Forget it, look at what you're wearing, take the dropped sword and use it, you're a prince after all, why are you so shabby?"

"Who made my father a famous tyrant and lunatic on the mainland? The only thing he can trust is the son that the witch gave birth to him. No, I just passed my adult birthday, and he ignored the objections of the ministers. I kicked it out and traveled."

"Hey, don't think so much, I will take care of you, a weak human being."

"Don't call me Heinciri, call me John."

"Your name is really earthy."

Everything in the dream seemed so real, and Cyril, who was leaning on the tree and held tightly by the dream, couldn't help but frown.

The images of the past followed one after another, and for a moment, Cyril couldn't even tell the difference between dreams and reality.

He is like an audience sitting in an empty theater, looking at the story on the screen alone, but when he meets the eyes of the protagonist in the story, he loses his boundaries.

Until those tiny, childhood memories inevitably turned to cruel blood.

The Cyril who appeared in the dream has lost her youthful youthfulness, and she looks no different from what she is now.

And his human friend who is hard-working and kind-hearted has already sat on the throne carved out of gold and precious stones. He holds a long sword in his right hand and a heart in his left hand. Pull it up and tie it behind the head, revealing a smooth face and a little blood on it.

Cyril stood in the lobby of the king's palace, short of breath: "John...why didn't you tell me that the man you asked me to kill was your father?"

Heinciri stood up suddenly, threw his still warm heart on the ground, crushed it with his toes, and walked down the steps step by step. His sword still bears the blessing of the Orc High Priest.

"Don't you understand Cyril? He is a tyrant, a lunatic, a garbage whose soul has been polluted by the undead army. Those citizens who work hard, labor, and trade every day, and those humans who pay taxes to support this country, are waiting for me. , looking forward to a true monarch."

Cyril was dizzy from the majestic and magnificent chandelier above his head, he pinched his brows, and sneered: "I know you hate your father, and I also know that he is not a good person, as you said, his soul Polluted by the power of the undead, he has committed countless crimes, and I have never pitied him. But, why do you want to deceive me?"

Heinciri walked in front of Cyril, held Xiril's face with those hands that had just killed his father and king, and smiled slightly: "You said it yourself, you will always take care of me, a weak Humanity."

"I can revolt with you, and let you become the new king with the support of the people," Cyril slapped his hands away in disgust, and turned his face away, "instead of being tricked by you and using my power Kill your own father."

"If it's my deceit that bothers you, I apologize."

Xi Ruier laughed back angrily: "You think this is the only thing I care about? If your father deserved his death, what about your underage siblings? Those nobles who said a few words for the old king, those What about the guards who are dedicated to guarding the safety of the king, and those commoners who talk about you killing your father behind your back?!"

"They deserved to die." Heinshiri also changed his face, and turned his hands away indifferently.

"Babies who can't even speak deserve to die?" Cyril clenched her fists tightly and said in a cold voice with no expression on her face, "You used me to kill their father and prevented me from saving those only Crying child, put me under house arrest. Let me watch how those who oppose you are torn to pieces by wild dogs one by one... I think you are the madman!"

Hearing Cyril's accusation, Heinciri's eyes gradually became moist: "That's because if I keep them, they will rebel against me in the future! As you said, you are my friend...why can't you do it for me? Think about it, the whole continent is accusing me of killing my father, my situation is so difficult, why, why can't you be considerate of me a little bit?!"

Seeing those black jewel-like eyes overflowing with tears, Cyril woke up suddenly.

"You're awake," a smile appeared on that familiar face, "If your soul hadn't fallen into a weak state and lost the aura of blessing from the Goddess of Light, I really wouldn't have seen you."

Cyril looked around.

It was empty, no grass, no trees, no gently blowing wind.

"I haven't woken up yet." Cyril looked up at the person in front of him, and smiled calmly, "Master Legion isn't going to do his own big business, why come to me?"

Like an old friend, Heinciri took a step forward and sat beside Cyril, with a brisk tone: "I still like the way you are dreaming, besides this fake smile that wants to make people tear you apart, there is also There will be other vivid expressions."

Cyril: "Oh."

"The Superman you value... I looked at it, and there is nothing special about it," Heinciri stretched out his hand, wanting to touch Cyril's golden hair, "But you really haven't changed, you still look the same. Appearance - pretending to be friends, pretending to be unreservedly good to others, but in fact the most selfish in my heart."

Cyril stood up, avoiding Heinciri's hand, "If you still think that I oppose you because you don't like you getting me involved in that bloody coup/dat, then I'm really I don't regret losing you as a friend."

Heinshiri laughed and opened his arms, behind him were the roaring undead: "You will regret it, my little dragon slayer."

Xi Ruier's knees softened, and he half knelt on the ground, as if his soul had been severely beaten by something.

When he raised his head again, this time he really woke up from his dream.

The slightly thorny grass, the shadows of leaves swaying by the wind, and a Superman squatting in front of him, looking at him worriedly.

Xi Ruier raised her head, took a few deep breaths, then rubbed her eyes and stood up and asked, "How is the matter resolved?"

Clark nodded lightly: "The Flash is fine, and the Batman on the Green Lantern has also been dealt with. The Green Lantern was poisoned by the scarecrow's fear gas, so it was not discovered that the dead hostage was actually a bionic robot controlled by a program. Now He has put on his lantern ring again."

Xi Ruier supported the big tree next to him, his mind was still a little confused: "It seems that I didn't sleep for a long time."

Clark pursed his lips: "You look terrible, are you really okay?"

"It's okay." Cyril opened her arms, as if embracing the world, "It feels so good to wake up from a nightmare."

Clark still looked very worried, stretched out his hand, and put his palm on the elf's forehead, "Your body temperature has dropped by another degree."

Cyril laughed: "Shouldn't you worry about your teammates at this time? Why worry about me?"

Clark was about to open his mouth to say something, but Batman's voice came from the communication channel: "All members of the Justice League, gather at the watchtower."

After replying to the notification, Clark held out his hand to Cyril: "Shall we go together? Just to help you check your body."

Cyril was a little surprised: "I'm not a member of the Justice League, so it's not appropriate."

Clark raised the corner of his mouth, and his pure blue eyes showed a slight smile: "If it weren't for you, I might be dead now. Even if you said that you have nothing to do, how could I throw yourself here."

"Tsk tsk tsk," said the green light who regained its vitality in the communication channel at some point, "when I was in that dark mine, no one rescued me, only a big black bat flew over and punched me, Spray the antidote to the poison of fear in my face..."

Ignoring the green light complaining about, and considering that Cyril's physical condition could not survive in space, Clark took him to the Hall of Justice, opened the teleportation point there, and the two teleported to the Justice League's watchtower headquarters together.

"We might quarrel in a while," Clark suddenly reminded Cyril before teleporting, "but don't worry, it's not because of you, just pretend not to see it..."

Cyril raised her eyebrows: "Why is that?"

Clark spread his hands helplessly: "The Martian Manhunter was attacked on his birthday with his friends, which proves that those people at least know his human identity and physical weaknesses that he usually pretends to be. The bomb/bomb targeted by the Flash is It's even more obvious, why is Batman able to tell me the structure diagram of the bomb/bomb and how to dismantle it so quickly even though he wasn't at the scene? There is also the fear gas for the green light, and the scope of activities of the scarecrow is basically in Gotham City... "

Cyril: "You mean it's all about Batman?"

Clark seemed to have a headache: "Of course it has something to do with him, and I'm not really stupid."

Cyril seemed to find it interesting, raised his face, and looked at Clark very intently: "Then you are just 'quarreling' for a while?"

Clark didn't understand why Cyril showed that expression, as if that reason was very important to him.

"Although I don't know exactly what's going on, I believe that Batman will not harm members of the alliance," Clark lowered his head and said seriously, "I trust him, every member of the alliance, and I once trusted that station. Mr. Axon who was about to commit suicide on the rooftop... Now I also trust you."

The young man in this small town has always believed in human beings and the world.

Facing Clark's sincere gaze, Cyril suddenly lowered her head for some reason, as if flustered, avoiding the overly warm gaze.