Heartbreaker

I picked the stronger of the two horses that were pulling the cart (although it was not as fast as my one-eyed Ayr), and steered the horse towards the Bone Marsh.It took only a few hours to leave the misty white mist near Huihai Villa, and the filthy sky became as clear as water, changing from lead gray to deep black.As the night fell, the horseshoes rustled on the dead branches and leaves, and I rode the wind through the forest, letting those falling broken leaves nostalgicly adorn my flame-like bright red hair.

Once, probably, I was a prince.It seemed so long ago that I couldn't tell if it was reality or my fantasy.I used to have blond hair that would make anyone look ashamed. I don't like gold, but I like the noble blood it symbolizes.But the golden color didn't bring me much good luck. On the contrary, this devilish red hair made me wander freely in this world like a real devil.

I am no prince, for I have no knights of my own.

The horse raced across a rolling wheat field, pattering and bouncing on the dirt stalks.As if responding to my inner voice, a row of sparrows flew up from the wheat field noisily. I reined in the horse's head, and my eyes were attracted by the figure standing in the wheat waves.

Ga, ga, ga.The crows cawed nonstop around him.At first I thought it was a scarecrow driving a sparrow, but when I got closer, I realized that it was a living person, crucified on a cross.The crow squatted on his shoulder, I heard the sound of chewing, and saw his gnawed scalp and half of his protruding brain under the cold moonlight.

"Hey, friend! I'm glad you stopped to look at me while you were on your way." The man was bobbing cheerfully, with no fear of a bird nibbling his scalp off.The cross was so deep in the dirt that I saw a crow chew up and swallow a scalp with strands of hair on it.His brain is pink and soft, so I can hardly control myself, wanting to slap that walnut-shaped pulp bag into meat sauce.

"Why are you here?" I asked while holding down my right hand that was trembling with longing, "This is the only way to the Bone Swamp. I can't think of a reason for an ordinary person to appear here."

The man's face became serious in an instant, "To be honest, my friend. I am here to accomplish a great cause."

If feeding the crows counted as some kind of "great deed," then he'd been quite a success.I said, "What great cause?"

It's because he lost his scalp and was still thinking mischievously, "What do you think my identity is?"

I glanced at the armor on his body, which was comparable to broken copper and iron, "A knight."

Crazy knights often appear in this absurd era.

"No, no no!" He seemed very proud and amused, his mouth wide enough to fit several copper coins in, "I'm a monk!" He said indignantly, "I came here to destroy Evil Necromancer!"

Oh, it's a good thing the madman didn't succeed.This guy wasn't even a lunatic knight, but a monk crazier than a lunatic.I completely lost interest in him, and was about to urge the horse to go, but the madman yelled, "Wait! Where are you going, friend?!"

I strangled the horse and let out a high-pitched cry, like the opening of some kind of ceremony, "I'm going to kill the Necromancer."

"So that's how it is!" The lunatic suddenly became agitated. With a vigorous pull, he directly tore his palm off the nail, and took out a tattered book from his pocket.I stared at his palm where two blood holes had been torn out, and found myself liking him more and more.

"I want to praise and pray for you, great warrior!" he said in an embarrassing tone. I should have had goosebumps all over my body, but I somehow felt that such a crazy prayer should be said by a crazy monk like him. .

"What book are you talking about?"

The lunatic monk held up the cover of the book proudly, "Its name is "The Bible", and it is only the first half, which tells about fate and suffering. The second half is "The Righteousness", which tells about virtue and good deeds. I think "The Righteousness" Some of the views in the Bible are not suitable for this era, so I only carry the upper part with me as my spiritual food."

His skull was about to be eaten by crows.I looked at the plasma falling from the side of his face, and suddenly developed a rare trace of patience, "Then tell me, do you have any interesting points?"

The mad monk turned over the withered and yellow pages devoutly, and read aloud to one of the pages, "When someone hits you on the left cheek, you not only want to hit him on the right cheek, but also knock out his teeth on the right side."

I laughed out loud when I heard this, and the lunatic saw me happy, so he read more vigorously, "When you don't want others to treat you like this, you must remember to treat the person you hate like this next time..."

I said, "It must be because your mind is so wise that crows dare not peck at it."

"Of course!" He said with joy, "I dare to swear, my understanding of the Lord is second to none!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, man," I said, "but I can't delay, I'll do this for you."

"May the Lord bless you." The crazy monk said sincerely, "My name is Popolo, and everyone calls me Brother Eggshell. May I ask your honorable name, great warrior?"

"Lymon." I thought for a while and added, "Lymon Bone Spur."

The eggshell lunatic waved his bloody hands excitedly, "Oh, Lemon, Little Lemon! What a cute name!"

If his previous words hadn't pleased me, I would have sucked his brains out instead of the crow.

****

After that episode was over, I set out on my way to the Bone Marsh again.It seems that there are many idiots who want to kill the necromancer, and that eggshell lunatic named Popolo is one of them.This is not a good sign. Too many pursuers will increase the mage's suspicion and make my negotiations even more difficult.

I don't know if that crazy monk will be eaten by crows before I come back.

I took off the water bag, took a sip of the stinky blood to moisten my throat, took a rough look at the surrounding scenery, and steered my horse towards the secluded forest in the southeast.The night is like a lich with an open black cloak, and a bone-like crescent moon hangs over the treetops with messy branches. I lead the horse and walk in the mysterious and deep woods.The owl cooed incessantly, and the sound of its wings scraping the air was like tearing a piece of parchment.I hate the dark night, the darker the night, the more likely there is an eye spying on you from behind.I clenched the bone-cutting knife in my hand, marked the tree all the way, and walked to the depths of the forest where the camphor fragrance was more intense, and finally saw the dark castle.

Just like the fairy tales read by the old nun, the castle where the necromancer lives is covered with rotten vines, rotten wood, crows hovering, and clusters of white spider webs in the corners, which looks dilapidated and dilapidated. .

I suspect that the mage deliberately turned it into this.When I stepped on the last creaking and whining wooden steps, I saw the figure sitting at the stone table.The woman just sat there quietly, staring at the pale paper-like crescent moon outside the window sill, like a sculpture that had been silent for a long time, as if she was waiting for someone, and also seemed to be seeing someone off.

"I fulfilled your request." I stepped forward, and Gesun's head rested on the stone table behind the woman.

She didn't turn her head, and I sat down swaggeringly, crossing my legs. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"Ring." She turned her head sideways, revealing her snow-white chin and bright red lips from the black hood.I stuck out my tongue, and there was a brass ring soaked in saliva on it, "Here."

She reached out, but not to take the ring, but to tear out my tongue.I spat out the copper ring, caught it from mid-air, turned around and avoided a few feet away, "Do you want to regret it?"

The mage sat quietly by the table, gouging me out with those thorny eyes, "Not only the copper ring and the head of the heartbroken man, I want something else."

"what?"

"The portrait of that bitch." The woman said calmly, "Gerson will definitely put her portrait and the copper ring together. When he abandoned me and followed that bitch, he should have thought that one day it would be this end."

She is my mother.

I said, "What do you want her picture for?"

The corner of the mage's ruddy mouth quietly burst into a smile, like a black rose blooming in a thorn bush, "Of course I curse the undead of that bitch, so that he will die badly."

She is my mother.

"Speaking of which, if it wasn't for the dragon back then, you wouldn't have been your brother's scapegoat... You are so pitiful, Lemon." She said, like an annoying abandoned woman, still caring hypocritically, As if expecting pain to show on my indifferent face, so as to ease the resentment in her heart.

The bitch in her mouth is my mother.I'm making a deal with the enemy who cursed my mother.I shake my shoulders.The good mother who tricked me into taking my brother's place in the dragon's lair to die.

I brushed the hair from my ear, took off the small portrait clipped behind my ear, and let it float to the female mage's desk with a sigh of relief.

I could no longer feel a trace of joy in my heart, I played with the ring, "Fulfill your promise, I will give you the copper ring."

Only then did the woman stand up slowly, "Of course I will honor it. Necromancers are not like humans, and they will never pretend to be false." After walking a few steps, she suddenly took off her thick cloak, revealing that there was no trace of flesh hanging from the neck down. skull frame.

"Scared, boy?" She looked at me playfully, and I shook my head and whistled at her.The female mage nodded, "Then I don't have to cover up."

As she spoke, she tore off the entire face like a hood, revealing a white skull with flesh-colored sticky threads hanging from the edge.She led me to a secret room in the basement, which was more ingeniously arranged.Facing the door is a bright floor-to-ceiling mirror, and the oak table is full of bottles and jars filled with colorful liquids, and one of the conical flasks has been heated on a flame lamp, emitting faint green foam.

The necromancer opened a door, and there was a strong smell of paint. I poked my head and saw that behind the door was a huge water tank, with black thick juice flowing in it, like amniotic fluid that was pregnant with some kind of monster.

She pulled down the rope on the side of the door, and I saw that there were many black ropes tied to the water tank, and there were pulleys at the top.As the ropes were pulled down, those black ropes rose slowly, and something broke out of the water. Several white and shiny bodies were hoisted up, exposed in the narrow darkness, with their heads lowered in unison, like a row of adults. The newborn of form.

I said, "They look great, fresh and tasty stock."

"Don't talk nonsense, Lemon. They are the children I raised." The female mage said, although I couldn't see any emotion from those two eye holes, her tone couldn't hide her complacency, "When these children were discovered by me, They are all dead, and I carefully raised them in this nutrient pool. This has consumed a lot of my precious medicines, and when they gain souls, they will become undead whose mana is not inferior to mine."

I said, "There's a saying circulating outside, have you heard of it?"

"Of course I've heard that some dead people know more than the living," she said. "'The Immortal King,' Elliott de Stewart."

"The same 'usurper' and 'kingkiller' from three years ago."

"You want to kill him."

I was silent, but the bone cutting knife was clamoring for blood in my waist.She looked at me, as if she had seen through everything, and incited my last longing with a gentle tone.

"Don't worry, Lemon." She said, with an arrogant light shining in her eye holes, "The undead confronts the undead, and there is only one way to die. The 'child' you have chosen will help you and realize your wish."

****

I hate the tone of this woman who knows everything.I wanted to spit viciously, but I had to give up because this action would make the other party think I was more childish.

I turned my attention from her to the hanging "kids".There were men and women among these people, and the youngest seemed to be several years older than me.Their chests were painted with black ink stains, a pile of twisted letters, representing their names in life.

Many years later, I recalled that it was at that time that I met that undead—no, that person.Perhaps because of his bitter-tan hair, or because he had the fewest letters printed on his chest, I chose him.By chance or fate, he was chosen.

"Roe".

ROE, Ro.