The end game [Zhongyingmei]

Where Sisley's body cannot be seen, the remaining Sisleys are working in an orderly manner.

Ken and Mephisto are still driving the double-decker bus, taking the suffering kids where they should have been.

Gabriel fell asleep in the armchair, the large wings drooping slightly, covering his body like a blanket.

The lord of hell washed the last dish, took off his apron, wiped his hands, and suddenly paused.

The ominous black horns of the goat reappeared from the top of his head, and Abaddon's long hair reached his ankles, gazing at what he saw, and the figure disappeared into the void.

On Sisley's light screen, the task list quietly increased.

[Main Mission 3-1: Changes in New Haven]

[There is a moment when the blindfold is seen through, and there is a moment when all the arrangements are overturned.

Going to New Haven, Advent. 】

Precarious wind and rain, lightning and thunder.

When Abaddon stepped out of the void, a strong electric light just tore the sky, the thunder was deafening, and the snow-white beam of light illuminated the sky above New Haven.

The heavy rain soaked the long scarlet-lined cloak of the black-haired young man, and the raindrops slid down his cheeks, but Abaddon didn't seem to notice, and rushed forward on the deserted street.

This torrential rain deceived Abaddon's sense of smell. There was a foul stench everywhere, and the dampness and choking of the rain were everywhere.

He could only stare at the roofs shrouded in black air in the dark, and then walked over, and just before his hand fell on the door panel, he changed it to knocking.

The scene changed.

"Who?"

There was a hoarse voice from inside asking roughly.

"I am a traveler."

Abaddon said politely, "I came to this city to travel, but my communication equipment broke, and I can't go back to the hotel now, can I stay overnight?"

"Go away—" the voice sounded more impatient.

"I'll pay you," said Abaddon.

paused.Footsteps came to the door.Abaddon let him look at him. The handsome young man with shoulder-length hair lowered his eyes, letting the moisture in the darkness climb up his eyelashes.

On such a rainy night, no human being could notice the slightly distorted air around him, which is exactly what a hidden, unsealed, true hell lord would look like.

"Pfft, boy, come in."

The voice observed for a while, and finally agreed.

Abaddon walked in silently.

The light in the cabin lengthened his shadow, and two huge horns were hovering behind him, like a demon approaching unsuspecting prey.

The owner of this room walked in front of him, his footsteps were slightly limping, very loud, his hair became more and more sparse and white under the light, his figure was bloated, and with the deformed plush sweater on, he looked like a fluffy bird of mold.

"What should I call you?" Abaddon asked.

"Mr. Wood."

The old man cleared his throat heavily, as if he wanted to spit again.

"There's a fireplace over there, you can go and sit there later, don't dirty my good blanket." He pointed his fat fingers casually, and Abaddon also looked over there, "You can sit on the sofa Sleep, I don't have a spare bed."

"it is good."

Abaddon naturally responded in a low voice, observing the furnishings of the room by the way.

What he pushed open was the unit door on the first floor of the apartment in Lower New Haven.

But now, the world shown in his eyes has nothing to do with the unit door.

The small room smells of sour vodka and bacon sausage, and it is decorated in the style of 80 or [-] years ago, such as tassel sofa, old-fashioned TV, carpet with a burnt hole, even the one that is not painted or wallpapered. wall.

"Why, what's there to see?"

Mr. Wood noticed Abaddon's gaze and asked impatiently.

"Your tassel sofa is beautiful. Thank you for taking me in."

Abaddon said, his gaze lingered for a while on the newly lit candle on the table.

"……Humph."

Mr. Wood seemed to want to say something, but he choked on him and fell silent again.He led Abaddon limping out of the living room and fetched a blanket from the hall wardrobe.

It was an old, thin, but clean brown blanket.

"Go."

Even after being thanked for a while, Mr. Wood quickly became impatient again.

"Go over there to enjoy the fire. If the blanket burns out, you have to accompany me."

The living room is not too big, but the fire and lights make the room very warm and bright.

Mr. Wood pulled the dining table away, sat there with great determination, lit the tobacco, and took a comfortable sip.

"Hey, boy, are you coming—"

After taking a bite, as if he remembered something, he raised his head to ask aloud, and as soon as he raised his head, he saw Abaddon hugging the blanket, curled up in front of the fire and fell asleep.

The light from the fire illuminated his pale face, outlining his eyelids and chin with golden and orange outlines, making him so handsome and natural.

"...this kid."

Mr. Wood muttered to himself, and turned away from looking there, and turned his attention to smoking his pipe.

In the void, Abaddon stared at his back huddled in the sofa, then turned and walked into Mr. Wood's bedroom.

He didn't feel like prying into privacy, because if Abaddon didn't expect, this Mr. Wood should have passed away many years ago.

And he was guided by the space loophole on this rainy night, unconsciously among those apartment doors, he chose the one with the loophole behind it, and thus was thrown here.

It's almost like Sisley's copy quest, except Abaddon's plane isn't real anymore.

He also couldn't use the light screen, couldn't communicate with the rest of the Sisleys.

Except for a set of skills and plot-specific items that he owns, the Lord of Hell has nothing.

And seven or eighty years ago, when the "immortality" project was first proposed, what happened?

Abaddon could sense that there was a great danger lurking beneath this question.

Just now he suddenly became deliberate, not only because he was keenly aware of the scene change, but also because he felt that the street was maliciously peeping into his eyes.

Some of those gazes were even inhuman, full of desire for him.

Humans are observing his fate, while monsters and beasts are staring at his flesh and blood, judging whether he is delicious and whether they want to attack him.

"..."

Therefore, Abaddon immediately knocked on the door closest to him.

If it wasn't just to investigate the matter related to Sisley, Abaddon himself would follow this line, because everything seemed very interesting.

Compared with New York and Gotham, New Haven can be said to be a pretty good city.

Attacks are rarely reported here, and people live and work in peace, settling the land for generations.

Even for a demon like Abaddon who came looking for darkness, at best, he found some pagans who worshiped and summoned the black goat mother god, a psychology professor who killed countless people in the university and then ate them, and some people in the city The usual crimes and wanderlust, that's all.

quite clean.

But in New Haven seven or eighty years ago, how could even umbrals and ghosts wander casually in the night, waiting to tear apart a passer-by who dared to go out at night?

Abaddon thought as he passed soundlessly through the wall and stood in Mr. Wood's bedroom.

The smell here is a little worse than outside, the lights are not on, and the whole room is bathed in darkness. It looks like the scene of a horror movie that only exists in Ken's place.

But Abaddon didn't panic too much.

Mr. Wood should be considered a good man.

The more Abaddon deduced how dangerous the streets of New Haven used to be, the more surprised he was that Mr. Wood had the guts to open the door; or Mr. Wood was really a brave man with a high skill, thinking that he could deal with all the travelers passing by alone.

The latter was unlikely, since Abaddon felt no real malice in Mr. Wood.

The evil aura that led him here was more generated from the house and gathered directly above the city.

But what is so strange in this house that can stir up evil, and even project evil?You must know that Abaddon has only seen deep malice in people, and has never seen such a mature little house.

The lord of hell is almost curious.

He bent down, and brushed his thin fingers over the photo frame that the old man put on the head of the bed with his back to the past.There were two people inside. Even Abaddon couldn't see clearly with the light and the photography technology at this time.

The rest of the things are very simple, everything that an old man living alone should have, clothes and pants, pills, a shriveled pillow, nothing in the drawer, only the photo frame that shows the story of Mr. Wood.

Abaddon circled the room, and his eyes fell on the bed in the middle.

More precisely, under the bed.

He knelt down halfway and stretched out his hand. His tentative hand penetrated the mattress without hindrance. When he stretched his hand down, he touched something else as expected.

There are many drawers under the old-fashioned bed, and most people will put a lot of clothes.

However, before Abaddon had time to check, the sound of Mr. Wood's footsteps suddenly came from far to near.

The bedroom door was pushed open, and the wooden floor creaked under the old man's heavy footsteps.Mr. Wood didn't turn on the light, he seemed to be standing silently in the darkness, standing still.

Abaddon waited for a while, then suddenly waited for Mr. Wood to speak.

"Come out."

For a moment, Sisley, who was dressed in goatskin, was terrified, thinking that Mr. Wood had discovered him, and her whole body was frightened, until he heard the name Mr. Wood said.

"Eleanor?" said Mr. Wood to himself. "Well, damn it, where have you been?"

There was a sound of tables and chairs colliding.Mr. Wood seems to have pushed into some cabinet.

"Here you are, honey," he said again.

Abaddon who eavesdropped behind the curtain:?

Is it that he is getting more and more wrong the more he listens, or is Mr. Wood really getting more and more wrong as he speaks?

If Abaddon had heard correctly, he must have struck up a conversation with someone in the bedroom.

But there was no one in the bedroom at all.

No one answered him, no one was there, Abaddon was sure of that, and if a soul was there—even if it was only a remnant, he would have found it.

But if it is to commemorate the deceased wife, most people can just say a few words to themselves, and they don't know how to ask and answer.

There was the sound of a kiss from outside the curtain.Abaddon could hear it clearly, the kiss seemed to be on the skin.

"Go to bed early, Elena." Mr. Wood lowered his voice and continued intermittently, "I'm going to turn off the lights, yes, the lights should be turned off in thunderstorms..."

He lumbered onto the bed, and the foam mattress creaked under the weight of the load, and he became quiet again.

And Abaddon stood quietly behind the curtains, with his waist against the cold window frame, and realized something.

Mr. Wood must have been hallucinating.

In other words, he may have gone crazy.