The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 302 Ch.301 The Impaled Cultist

Helen Menzie.

A cultist who has brought Holy Cross into disrepute cannot be immune to any torture.

Besides, Roland 'cheated'.

He has a wrench.

"The Seventh Crowned God: Hands of Strife, Net in the Shadow."

"The "cavalry" who started the war, the "assassin" who controlled the shadows..."

"Is it right?"

Roland turned around slowly, digging a small hole in the soil with his toes.

The impaled middle-aged woman raised her head.

She had no teeth, her cheeks were sunken, and she was looking at him quietly with her one eye.

"Who are you?"

she asked.

"Hypocrite of the Holy Cross? No, no, you don't belong to the 'Saints'..." She read quickly, her eyes flickering over Roland: "The 'Meditator' or the 'Artisan'?" No...you don't have the stench of those people..."

Her eyes became a little strange: "You are not the "Holy Flame" who forges fire..."

"interesting."

"The monastery actually let in a ritual practitioner who was not on the same journey..."

"Ha ha ha ha…"

Roland couldn't help but frown as the laughter was as unpleasant as a night crow's.

"I'm coming with my friends."

"Friend?" Helen Menzie chuckled: "You have never seen the world, you have no idea what kind of place this is..."

Roland blinked, raised his hand, and began to use the blade to reflect the light into her surviving eye.

Helen Menzie:…

"If I can still move, I'll skin you off."

Eyes.

"Stop."

Eyes.

Keep taking photos.

"...Tell me what you want to know." Someone compromised.

"My friend is going to be okay, right?"

"Of course not." Helen Menzie grinned, revealing her receding gums, with a malicious look on her face: "Did you pay attention to the keyhole when you opened the lock?"

she says.

Not a key.

The number above is the price for opening the stone gate.

"Scars, your friend must bear a corresponding number of scars as the price of opening the door."

she says.

‘Heart-burning pain. ’

‘We give love to the flesh and then deprive the heirs of the soul. ’

As Helen Menzie murmured, a few lines of small words appeared in Roland's eyes.

…………

…

"Name": Burning Heart

"Type": Grand Ceremony (Saints)

"Description": Never ending, He said.

A special ritual unique to Holy Cross.

A ritual that requires extremely harsh conditions to function - note that within the scope of this ritual, scars will become permanent scars.

Don't get hurt.

Get away from this ritual as soon as possible.

Or, find a way to ensure death by suicide.

(You can’t imagine the consequences of a failed suicide attempt.)

…

…………

Roland stared at the golden guns that penetrated Helen Menzie, her empty eye sockets and the sores all over her body - it was hard to imagine how much pain this woman suffered every day.

This is how monasteries and churches treat cultists differently from the Inquisition.

The former will bring long suffering to the sinner, while the latter is simpler and more direct.

"What's the number recorded on my door?"

"two hundred."

Helen Menzie smiled sinisterly: "After you leave, you can see your scarred friend."

Roland was not worried about Xander.

Because it was not her who opened the door.

"My friend will not let anyone torture him."

"Torture?" Helen Menzie tried her best to raise her head. The light illuminated her face even more palely, and strands of greasy black hair hung in front of her eyes, reminding Roland of the scary stories that Yam told him when he was a child, specifically to scare children.

"Where do you think this is?"

Roland: "Cell?"

"The cell is outside, child. This is their pious sanctuary, the core of the petri dish... The friend who brought you in must be extraordinary. This kind of person is actually willing to bear two hundred scars for you..."

"You may have misunderstood, madam. My friend is no longer in the convent. She has been transferred."

The voice paused for a moment.

The kneeling woman grinned and showed Roland some squirming juice sacs in her mouth: "Name. Tell me what it's called."

"Kratofer. She said you could answer my questions."

Some invisible emotions melted on her face.

"Kratof... Xander Kratof..."

She half drooped her swollen eyelids: "Tell me why you're here."

"I have a magical object that can create my own dreamland in the sleeping world - at the same time, I can also invite some 'guests' who are recognized by me."

"Ms. Menzi, I hope to form a secret society, a 'family' that can bring me and my friends together closely - but Xander thinks that the sect is more suitable and recommended you to me."

"Can I get any useful advice from you?"

After Roland finished speaking for a long time, the air became slightly quiet.

Her breathing quickened a few times, and she suddenly let out an extremely hearty laugh, like a woman who finally gave birth after ten months of accumulation. The suppressed and accumulated energy finally poured out at a certain moment, heartily.

"Kratov...hahahahahaha..."

The malice in the voice almost solidified, piercing Roland's skin time and time again.

"She actually went out..."

"sect…"

"Get out?" Roland ignored his own question: "You mean, Xander was also imprisoned before?"

"Imprisoned?" Helen Menzi laughed at his naivety and ignorance: "Except for a few people, most of them came voluntarily, Miss Vansittart, including your friend, Cinder Kratov."

Roland shook his head slowly: "This stinking prison, the ritual that makes people unable to heal their wounds and suffer forever, the entire monastery-"

Helen Menzi stared at his golden eyes that were brighter than the lights, as if she wanted to see through the brain behind the eyeballs.

"This is the land of hope, Vansittart, or another name."

She said hoarsely:

"Only those who are blessed by the Holy Father can be allowed to enter the world-and the 'prison' you mentioned is the starting point of glory: only those who pass the test can have an undefiled body and raise the scepter that symbolizes holiness..."

"This is where the saints are promoted."

"Countless nuns come one after another, and even the applications are piled up on the desk."

"Miss Vansittart, do you still think it is a prison now?"

Although Roland didn't know how high the status of the "saint" was.

But David Cromwell and his followers' attitude towards Chandel was obviously different from that towards Fernandez.

It was like awe and respect from the soul.

The saint was even worse.

Roland rubbed his painful fingertips and shook his head: "It's no longer a prison."

He paused for a moment, and when Helen Menzi made a listening expression, he continued: "This is more like the hell in the Book of Eden."

Helen Menzi laughed again: "You're right, I like you a little, Vansittart..."

She seemed to squeeze the squirming sac in her mouth, and some green juice flowed down her lips to her chin, dripping and making a pit in the mud.

"…They said that Cinder Kratov was not devout enough and failed to complete the Burning Heart Road. I think she has discovered that she can't find what she really wants here..."

The drowsy one-eyed man reflected Roland's pale face:

"You really need a sect, Vansittart."

"I saw indifference and endurance in your eyes."

"I saw a painful past, a boy holding a cross committed a cruel crime."

"I saw your uneasiness, your wavering thoughts..."

"An almost insane soul..."

"You are not afraid of death, but you are afraid of others dying..."

Her fascinating eyes seemed to be able to see through a person's memory and soul.

At this moment, as a cultist who was imprisoned and had lured and killed dozens of ritualists, he finally showed his ferocious fangs.

Roland subconsciously closed his eyes, trying to stop her from continuing to "read" himself.

Maybe it was the lights, or maybe some unbearable past was mentioned again.

The palm of his hand holding the dagger was wet with sweat.

"Look, you are like a fragile lamb in front of me, a lamb that has not grown up and has not left the pen..."

More ridicule, obviously the "reading" does not come from the eyes.

"You put others above your own life..."

"But you can make my good neighbor, Cinder Kratov, speak..."

"Compared to those bastards, you are much more interesting."

When Roland opened his eyes again, the expression on his face slowly calmed down like water waves.

Raised his arm.

Adjusted the dagger to aim: "I will blind you."

"..."

The laughter stopped abruptly.

Helen Menzi looked strange: "... I am beginning to wonder which road you are on."

Since she has some unknown special skills, she can obviously see that the road under Roland's feet is gradually devouring his "humanity" - not the kind of humanity that "becomes a beast without humanity".

It is a strange "weight" given to everyone by the world.

Every mortal, even a tramp, has a huge amount of "weight" - this weight can make people stand firmly on the land of the waking world.

And it was draining away from him.

Like an inverted hourglass.

Slowly, but finally, one drop at a time.

The further he walked, the more he could ‘float’.

Interesting.

“Make a deal, Miss Vansittart.”

“A real deal.”