It is impossible for the girl to find the evil god in the textbook

Listening to Ling's words, she only cared about whether Ella would be injured in the battle, and conversely, she didn't care much about the life or death of the principal.In other words, as early as more than a year after Ella disappeared, she wished that Kleist would die soon.

Ella shook her head to signal the other party to feel relieved.

"I didn't kill him, we didn't even fight at all."

A little further away, Fred raised his head and glanced at Ella in surprise.

At this time, the old professor in a khaki robe appeared in the hall again. He seemed to have no surprises, but walked silently along the stairs to the upper floor of the castle.

Fred Mephisto followed up first, and winked at Ella and Ling.The other two immediately understood what he meant, and followed them up the spiral staircase.

Adolf stayed where he was, and he cooperated with several other professors to quickly maintain order in the hall.

-

Benson bent down and observed the old man lying on the bench, as quiet as if he had fallen asleep.

Kleist held a small half of a brass pocket watch in his hand. Its cover had been completely shattered, broken glass, metal shavings, knobs and gears, and some small parts were scattered everywhere.

On the deformed dial, you can see that its hour and minute hands overlap at one o'clock, just completing a full circle.

This precious alchemy tool has been completely damaged, and there is no longer any magical aura or anything special about it.

Even if it is repaired by the watchmaker and turned again, it is just the most ordinary brass pocket watch.

It seemed to have experienced a small explosion, and this explosion also injured the old man's right hand.

His withered skin was dripping with blood, and the scarlet blood dripped down along the neat cuffs and the old man's fingers, forming a small puddle on the ground.

This solemn and quiet scene is like "The Death of Marat" by the painter David.

The blood puddle is not the corrosive pus like strong acid that Ella has seen before, nor is it the holy blood that contains powerful magic power or specific properties left after the death of a divine person.

Just as the palm that had lost some kind of power protection was easily torn apart by the explosion, the curse left by the Son of God or other mysteries seemed to have completely disappeared from the old man.

The old man bathed in the afternoon sun seems to be tired from reading, so he leans on the chair and takes a nap.

His aura has completely dissipated, and there is not even a spirit or the most basic spiritual imprint in the air. It is as clean as a sanctuary that has been thoroughly purified.

Even if one wants to psychic, it is impossible, not to mention that for a person as powerful as Kleist before his death, his spirit body cannot be summoned by some psychic ritual.

Professor Chambers looked closer for a moment, then shook his head.

"Albert Krystal—dead indeed."

This old professor is a person whose strength even Ella can't see through. What he said can already be regarded as authority here.

That formidable Headmaster, Mr Albert Kleist, is truly dead.

Some panicked gasps came from outside the door, and the breeze brought by it made the wind chime hanging in front of the door ring.

Looking at the scene in the room, a glass pipe in Roger Dalton's hand was broken to the ground.

His expression became very complicated. It could not be said that he was relaxed or that he had added a new burden. They finally condensed into a sigh.Falling from the mouth of the alchemy professor whose hairline receded quietly:

"I'm late......"

After noticing a few eyes slowly moving towards her, Ella shook her head and explained.

"It's true that I didn't kill him. Professor Kleist was still talking to me just a few minutes ago, and he was already in a bad state."

With that said, Ella turned on her spiritual vision. In those two almost overlapping worlds, she saw the old man just quietly stopping breathing on the chair.

But the girl still vaguely felt that something was wrong, she looked around, and then noticed the source of that strangeness.

—Michelle Hebrew is missing.

In the image observed by Ella, the traces of the other party are like being separated by a thick layer of fog. This is the performance when the view of historical scenes is blocked.But it is obviously impossible to do this with the strength of the former.

If placed in the world of ordinary people, this scene would look like a very traditional escape after killing someone.

But Ella knew that the other party, as Kleist's creation, seemed to be absolutely loyal, and the old man didn't show any scars except his right hand.

"It has nothing to do with you."

Roger pointed to the brass pocket watch,

"We have long expected that today, every time a curse or disease worsens and changes, Kleist will use this alchemy item to stop his own time. And I will use this time to prepare a new Potion."

"The negative effect of this item will speed up his natural life, and I can't guarantee that I can make a medicine to deal with the disease every time. This kind of result is only a matter of time."

"It's just that none of us thought that death would come so suddenly - Kleist's weak body could not withstand the passage of 12 more natural years, so he died the moment the alchemy tool took effect."

Ella picked up a few pieces of information scattered on the ground, and then groped for the hidden compartment on the bookshelf.

"Michelle Hebrew is gone, she was still in this place before."

"Maybe Mr. Kleist left her some order before he died. He should have a premonition of his own death... like this old guy will do."

Ling faced the principal's body, and there was not much awe in his words, but he also didn't mean any offense.

"The final order...what could it be?"

Even now, Ella still has no real feelings about this matter. Even if she actually faced Kleist's body, Ella didn't think that he would simply die like an ordinary person.

Kleist had more secrets to hide, but they all went to the grave with him.

Ella had already found the mechanism on the bookshelf, but she slowly lowered her hand.

No matter what else he is hiding, what the old man needs now is just a funeral. This is the respect he deserves.

Chapter 37 The Witch's Funeral

News of Albert Crest's death quickly spread to every corner of the school.

The freshmen who have been in school for less than a few months can't understand what happened. They just regret that the old man who spoke at the entrance ceremony passed away suddenly. Maybe the opening ceremony every year will not be so unique in the future.

Other old students who have been in school for a longer time, or those who have heard some rumors, find it difficult to accept.

The professor who occasionally appeared in the theology class was a living legend, and some of them even grew up hearing the legend of Kleist.

The originally bright sunshine outside the castle seemed to have become a little cooler because of this, and Kleist's death brought a huge void to the school.Perhaps people had not noticed it before, but only now did they realize how huge a presence the old man occupies here.

Just his name is enough to make people feel at ease, even if the outside world has become more and more dangerous in recent years, even if the incidence of mysterious incidents is rising at an absurd rate, Kraft's magic apprentices still believe that this is the most safe place.

Even if that man is old, sick, even if he has become powerless - as long as he can still appear under the castle to tidy up the flower beds, as long as he can still drink mead on the balcony.It will give people an inexplicable sense of confidence.

The uneasiness was spreading, and it was only today that they suddenly recalled some contents in the wizard's newspaper. A day ago, it seemed like something happened in another world that had nothing to do with the little wizards.

"Yes, the funeral... We should inform that bastard Mads and the rest of his family. But the old man's relationship with his family is not that close. I think he is more suitable to be buried in the castle. We can also ask Kleist to give him an epitaph, he is very good at this kind of thing..."

The professor's robe obviously couldn't cover Adolf's overly strong body. This giant man was a little at a loss, and occasionally patted his broad forehead.Standing in the auditorium and talking long-windedly.

"Adolf, you are confused - Kleist is dead, and what we are preparing is his own funeral."

Fred's words made the mountain-like man's pupils dilate, as if he suddenly woke up.

After the excess fat on the latter's cheeks shook violently for a while, he slumped his shoulders and let out a sigh of relief.

"Yes...he's dead, he's already dead - it's really hateful, you took advantage of this old guy, I didn't even have time to beat him up for Howard."

Although Adolf would not be Kleist's opponent, he still looked forward to a hearty fight without holding back when the opponent recovered.

After Aila had grown to the point where he no longer needed protection, he had already had this idea, but now he had lost the possibility of realizing it.

Adolf took a step back in a daze, and supported a chair behind him, but the latter couldn't support his weight and was crushed into a pile of debris with a snap.

But he didn't care about these things, he just muttered to himself in a daze.

"The old man has written the epitaph all his life, now who wants to write it for him?"

Ella herself stood in the corner feeling lost.Although she once came here with the intention of killing the opponent in battle or exiling the opponent after victory.

But the sudden appearance of this kind of result still made her feel empty. It was not through her own hands, but she got the answer and ending abruptly and without warning.

All the preparations I had made were in vain, and both hatred and fear lost their source.

"What am I supposed to do now?"

Facing such a huge blank, Ella couldn't help but ask this question.

-

Young wizards in black dress robes gathered in the cemetery in the north of Glamis Manor. This quiet place had never gathered such a large number of people.

There are many pure-blood families, or prominent figures among wizards from the outside world, who came here in a black carriage to see off the greatest wizard in the past century.

Some of them have worked with Kleist before, while others are students who have already graduated from here.

Even that Dalton Demetrius had come over from Paris, the great alchemist returning here for the first time in fifty years after leaving Kraft.He had already heard the whole story, and stood in the corner silently.It's just that the remaining stubbornness made Dalton still unwilling to put on the professor's robes from the past. He just showed a rare solemn expression and stood alone in the corner of the guest area.

Midas Kleist's expression was gray. He returned from an executor mission urgently, but he never thought that he would see today's scene.The death of a revered elder seems to have dealt him no small blow.

Professor Aurora's eyes were slightly red. Although she disapproved of the old man's actions more and more in recent years, after all, she had stayed in the castle and worked with him for decades.

It is a little surprising that Michelle Hebrew did not return to Kraft today, even after the news of the funeral had been spread.

Weird but sad music played in the cemetery and the auditorium, and a well-dressed and elegant man walked in front of the coffin containing the remains.

This man with neatly combed blond hair and a gray bow tie is a professor of magical psychology who is rumored to have pica.

Before he came to Kraft to teach, he seemed to be a clergyman in a monastery. Both his current status and his past experience made him suitable to stand in today's position.

In the eulogy, Professor Hannibal read a series of achievements made by Albert Kleist during his lifetime, any one of which is enough for individuals in the wizarding world to be remembered in history.

Great, intelligent, genius, unique... Adjectives like these are tirelessly used to describe that gentleman time and time again.

What kind of person is that old man?

Through the medals and monuments, Ella still felt that everything in Kleist was covered with a thick fog.

She recalled the last time she saw the other party, the old man's expression facing the Baishi Avenue and the sea of ​​flowers under the balcony.

That might be the reality she had been lucky enough to glimpse, the tip of an iceberg under the mist.

The lengthy eulogy came to an end, and the man sighed in a sad tone:

"Now he sleeps here, and even the rising sun is dimmed by it."

"May his great soul, and all that he loves, live forever."

Among the crowd, flickering dots of light float upwards, lighting up the gradually darkening clouds into a sea of ​​pure white light.

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