The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 12 Ch.12 The Burner

In the days after Roland's 'recovery', he played the role of Nina.

Every evening, a tube of blood was drawn from him, and he was fed flesh and blood that made him sick...

or became increasingly sweet.

He began to hear some rustling whispers, something, after the night fell, gently calling him in his ears and in his mouth.

'Come, come...'

'Use fragile flesh and blood...'

'Exchange for an immortal soul...'

Who is talking.

He began to become weak.

Day after day, it seemed that an invisible force was enveloping his body.

From his legs and feet being unsteady to needing a cane to get out of bed.

From his arms waving freely to being unable to hold a candlestick.

He seemed to have his vitality sucked away by a long, sharp mouthparts like a flying mosquito.

Soon.

He would probably become a living corpse that could not move, just like Nina.

Roland lay quietly, counting the days.

Counting his despair and hope.

Until...

One evening.

Finally.

He heard extremely noisy noises coming from downstairs: crashes, explosions.

And the servants' cries and screams.

This time it was not uniform.

The room creaked, and the fire burned all the way up the stairs to the second floor.

He curled up in the corner of the bed, staring at the door, watching Seth Will stumble in. The skin on his face melted and peeled like wax, revealing the blood threads tangled and pumping like spider webs: there seemed to be a beating tumor inside.

The man was no longer as decent as before, with burn marks all over his body; his black dress was not straight and clean, he was barefoot, three fingers were missing, and he limped.

The flames drilled in after the door was opened.

Golden flames.

He yelled in shock and anger:

"The Burner!"

The endless noise made Roland no longer need to knock on the edge of the bed.

He 'saw' the thorn-like fire, roaring fiercely at Seth. They ignited everything in the room that could burn, but Roland didn't feel a trace of heat.

Then, he heard the sound of heels hitting the floor.

Click, click.

Even and stable.

The flames suddenly became docile in the sound.

They dodged left and right, making way.

Let the pair of high leather boots come in.

It was a woman.

She was tall and thin, wearing a strange black stand-up collar gauze dress, with raised eyebrows and a high nose bridge; her hair was long and tied behind her head, and she wore two dark brown deerskin gloves on her hands.

When she stood at the door, she looked like a brown-haired and brown-eyed goddess surrounded by flames, looking into the house expressionlessly.

"You are more fragile than I thought, cultist."

The woman raised her lips in pleasure, twisted her wrist and stepped into the house - Seth began to retreat.

First he retreated to the bedside, then he felt something was wrong, so he jumped over Roland in a panic and crawled to the other side with his hands and feet.

The skin on his body was almost burned.

Hole in his arms, thighs, and abdomen, long and soft tentacles like intestines flowed out.

They struggled in the flames, making even sharper and more piercing cries.

Seth leaned against the wall, his eyes full of resentment.

"You wild dogs..." he growled, "One day, Mother will pull your hypocritical flesh and blood out of the earth one by one..."

"I like your wording," the woman's brown eyes became brighter in the firelight, but her expression was like a tree that withered when everything was withered, snowing in the flames. "It's a pity that you can't use it to save your life."

"Shut up! Hypocritical generation--"

She didn't give the man a chance to speak, and raised her hand and snapped her fingers:

The thorns opened their eyes, and the gun forest was hot.

A few feet away in an instant!

The flames like the scorching sun burst out from her body, not only illuminating the whole room, but also illuminating the dark midnight-the dazzling flame like a spear pierced the man's chest, penetrated from the front, and came out from the back!

The violent shock even shattered the brick wall behind Seth with peeling skin!

Bang--!

After a huge roar, a hole the size of four or five people was blown up on the side of the second floor.

The gun heads came out in clusters.

Amid screams and splashing bricks, Seth Will...

was actually smashed alive.

The moonlight outside the wall shone in, illuminating the quiet half of the room.

The walls and floors burned by the flames were surprisingly clean.

Roland huddled beside the bed, quietly staring at the hazy moonlight, which was like a veil, and sprinkled on the woman's body.

"Woman"

The pale words wrote truthfully.

She shook her wrist, turned around, and the extinguished heat wave lifted the hem of her skirt.

The black veil fluttered.

Like a mysterious...

bat landing in the moonlight.

As Roland thought, the words above her head slowly melted and changed:

"It looks like a woman, but it's actually a bat."

No...

That's not what I meant.

Roland rubbed his temple.

"Who are you?"

The woman's voice was bright and clear.

As she spoke, her body had already moved closer to Roland - she bent down and glanced at the empty bed.

Perhaps the pair of eyes that flowed like soft gold in the firelight were too charming, or perhaps Roland's entire face was like this.

After she got closer, her tone became gentler.

There was a small mole of tears hanging behind her slightly upward eyes.

"Child, what is your name? Were you kidnapped by the cultists?"

"Looks like a woman, but is actually a bat that was bewitched by the appearance of Roland Collins."

Roland:......

-

Miss Nina, are you really dead?

"This is my home, madam." Roland lowered his voice and replied respectfully: "I am Roland Collins, the youngest son of Thales Collins, who was recently found..."

The woman answered: "...Complete this evil ritual?"

She suddenly took off her brown deerskin gloves, revealing a hand with clear joints but scars everywhere - carefully picking out the wooden thorns entangled in Roland's black hair.

Roland felt like she was like a torch, no, it should be hotter than a burning forge.

"I grew up in the workhouse, ma'am. I got the letter a month ago, so..."

The woman touched his face.

"A group of reckless cultists and an innocent child?"

She half-crouched in front of Roland and quietly looked at the black-haired boy's face, watching him carefully turn his amber eyes and try his best to find his direction - he had to 'look' at her to speak to show respect. .

This is a frightened and miserable child.

The eyes can't see yet.

She judged in her mind and rubbed Roland's slightly pale and sickly face with her rough fingertips, all the way to her neck, arms, and wrists.

A powerless body.

mortal.

And it’s not visible yet.

A beautiful and fragile boy, a delicate doll, a trembling bird in the cold winter - the image of Roland in her eyes kept changing, all the way back to the sparrow that froze to death outside her window when she was a teenager.

Through the window, she watched it shivering, struggling, and finally becoming stiff.

A strange feeling came over me.

"When you look into the face of fear, you will gain courage and strength. My child, it's all over." She gently grabbed Roland's hand, wrapped him with her rough and strong palm, and then slowly pulled him up from the ground.

"This nightmare is over. The All-Father will not allow these cultists to walk within His sight."

After those strange, prayer-like whispers were recited, the cross-shaped silver pendant on the woman's chest shone brightly:

It was like a warm and soft flame, floating down very slowly and lightly, blowing over Roland's body like a gauze.

The murmurs in his ears seemed to never bother him again.

He finally regained his energy, and the previous physical weakness seemed like a waking dream.

He heard the faint sound of high-spirited singing coming from his ears, but it quickly drifted away.

"I am the Executor of Holy Cross Church: Enid."

The woman put away the necklace and stretched out her hand to him.

"You survived."