The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 274 Ch.273 The angry dolphin

Although it was said that the ancient angel killed the cultists and bewitched citizens and saved Bristol——

But in fact, many people know that the source of the chaos is probably...the 'holy' creature with wings on its back.

Ancient angel, alien species.

It contaminated tens of thousands of Bristol's citizens and led to a plague of spiders.

But there is a problem:

Where do those creatures, or alien ‘phantoms’, that fight against alienated citizens come from?

There is only speculation.

The world of sleep is so vast and mysterious that no ritualist can claim to fully understand it...

The same goes for alien species.

The surviving ritualists probably can't give an answer.

After all, no one really thinks that they can ask any 'shattering secrets' from the mouths of these ritualists who are no more than three rings at the highest level and apprentices at the lowest level - they are considered exceptionally good if they can save their lives in this huge chaos.

Even if some people suspect that all this may be the work of the ritualist...

Nor could it be these surviving ritualists.

As for strange objects, it is even more impossible. No one has heard of any strange objects that can allow ritualists to master the power of high rings in advance. If there is such a thing, the person who uses it will never survive.

The most accepted guess at present is: the enemy.

Those humanoid aliens armed with swords and long bows were the enemies of the ancient angels.

The battle between aliens and aliens.

It's not impossible.

Therefore, the "field" that envelopes the entire city, thousands of alienated citizens...

Are they 'soldiers' transformed by ancient angels in order to fight those alien species?

It's more or less reasonable to think so.

(Please ignore David Cromwell who lost his head. Whether the chaos came from cultists or aliens, he only died to stop all these conspiracies and for the glory of the Lord.)

"The prophecy doesn't work? I heard that those people are so talkative that they can be seen in every major case."

Roland lay on the bed with pillows behind him: "It's not that accurate, is it?"

Enid said it wasn't a question of accuracy.

Prophecy is a very complex power.

He can be used by the ritualist, but does not completely belong to the ritualist himself.

"Like a river."

Enid gave an analogy.

- It's like choosing a stretch of river to throw a fishing net into.

Fishing nets are power.

The river is time, history, the established past or future.

Definitions are constantly changing.

But only the fishing nets and the people who throw them remain unchanged.

"The previous gold pound case in London and the scammer gang were able to escape because the fishing net was thrown too late and the river flowed too fast - how big of a net is needed to catch up with the day and night turbulence?"

Roland understood.

"You mean, they missed time."

Enid sneered: "I mean, their 'fishing net' was burst."

While Roland was in coma, three "destinies" died.

One was from the royal family, one of her sweet dessert friends.

A Council of Truth from the Holy Cross.

The last one belongs to the Ring of Eternal Silence.

Three "destinies" go to heaven...or hell hand in hand.

"Their bodies looked like this."

Enid opened her palm, slowly tightened it in front of Roland, and closed it into a fist.

"Squeeze out the juice."

Roland was speechless.

He didn't know whether it was the ancient angel or what influence caused the death of the three ritualists - but it was more likely that they mistakenly targeted someone who should not be prying with their fishing nets.

Like the one on the island.

"Enid."

"Um?"

"Tell me about Delise, please?"

Regarding this saint, it sounds great at first, and it sounds great when you think about it carefully - but if you start looking through books or those ancient records, you will be surprised to find...

No.

There are very few past records about "Saint Delise".

It is said that she came from the Inquisition and, with the help of the entire Holy Cross, put the gods to sleep at her own expense.

Gone.

Where was she born? What did I do when I was young, which road I was on, friends, relatives, lovers——

Everything is undocumented.

She is like a glorious, dust-free flag.

Everyone has a deep respect for the flag.

But no one cares whether this flag was sewn by an old woman who was blind, missing breasts or missing toes in a stinky toilet full of mosquitoes and flies.

No one seems to care.

"Delice..."

Enid mused: "He is the Holy One."

silence.

"No more?" Roland looked helpless: "You said less than what I saw in the book."

"You should know where she comes from, right?" Enid glanced at Roland, "Dalys, Holy Cross, Tribunal."

Roland: "Yes, I saw it in the book."

"So do you know which path she belongs to?"

Enid crossed her arms and held her chin, a sly look in her brown eyes.

“Although I want to say ‘Holy Flame’. "

The flames that burned the entire ocean were the most obvious in Roland's memory - but since Enid asked...

"She is not the Holy Flame. "

It must not be.

"A secret."

Enid said.

"There was once more than one path to the Inquisition."

Everyone knows that the "Holy Flame" is the symbol of the Inquisition. In addition to the increasingly cold hearts as they rise, the dazzling flames are truly terrifying.

But a long time ago, the Inquisition had a second path.

Until Delis left the waking world.

That path was cut off.

From the material side, and from the spiritual side.

No one knows how to make the code objects of that path, and no one has ever found the rituals of that path from the secret transmission.

"It's like it doesn't exist at all."

Speaking of the past, Enid couldn't help but sigh for the lost treasure: "Even some roads that have never been set foot on will have code objects or rituals circulated in the Golden Island..."

"But Delis's path has completely disappeared."

Enid said.

"The name of that path is..."

""Hero."

The atmosphere stagnated for a moment.

"Roland?"

Hero...

Enid called the dazed man softly.

"You should rest more and think less. "

She preferred the man who used his mouth as a candle to explore the unknown, as a tool to satisfy his masculine curiosity, and who pioneered the land full of female roses - rather than the young man who frowned and pondered, and even wanted to turn himself into a sculpture.

She didn't want to see Roland like this.

He was in pain, and she was even more in pain.

Because she followed the prophecy that perhaps she should never listen to or do, and she might have buried something that countless people treasured with her own hands, causing the gears to deviate from their original trajectory and mesh with her desire.

She was a despicable and indifferent thief, robber, and massacrer, but she contradictory did not want to be in The people who care about her see her meanness and indifference.

This idea undoubtedly makes her look even meaner.

How can I express my feelings that are more intense than passion and more eternal than loyalty?

Enid doesn't know, she has no experience.

But there is only one thing.

She has read a lot of books.

She has also "consulted" a lot of "professionals".

She knows how to interrupt a man's meditation, and knows that once they suck the things in their brains, they will no longer be able to think - at least for a short time, empty.

A bit vulgar.

But she was not a noble person.

Just take it as an apology...

An apology for the millionth time.

"Roland."

"Hmm?" The young man with unfocused eyes on the bed responded, but he was still staring at the corner of the wall in a daze.

"There is a person who has been furious."

Enid rolled up the thin sheets, curled her lips slightly, and greeted "Roland".