The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 311 Ch.310 The Winged One

night.

Goblin ring.

Temporary base.

When Roland no longer participated in the 'construction', Rose and Xander saved a lot of time - time in dismantling it.

"…"Spinning Witch"? No, there isn't. But "Silver Spindle" is. "

Rose was wrapped in a light green blanket.

Red snow was falling outside the window, and a warm fire was burning inside the house.

"They are more active in those outlying towns - places where Orthodoxy is less active. But when I come to London, I haven't really seen any members of the Silver Spindle."

Rose and Anne had been to many places when they were young, and had heard some 'interesting stories'.

"...For example, they can sew themselves? Yes, but I haven't seen it with my own eyes."

The girl with short curly hair hugged her knees, took off her shoes, and sank into the huge leather sofa, making her whole body look extremely small.

——The furniture, floors, blankets, stickers on the walls and all the furnishings in the room are from Xander.

Team Fernandez is on a break recently, and her daily "secrets" are used in the fairy ring.

I have to say, value for money.

The room was not big, but Roland felt that perhaps only in a family with ancient heritage could he see such a complex and harmonious decoration - it was not easy to blend harmony and complexity.

On the other side, Rose is responsible for making food and drinks.

Roland…

Roland just needs to stay and don't cause trouble.

"What did that woman say to you?" The snitch was still disappointed about not being able to participate in the adventure, and his green eyes kept blinking. If Roland really told her that she missed a thrilling adventure during the day...she would definitely be angry.

"Just chatting." Roland cocked his cup and took a sip of coffee, smoke curling up: "She talked about some missionary knowledge..."

Roland believed that they were not a true 'sect' and would not spread their teachings among mortals.

"Oh." Rose moved her knees, and a few little heads of yellow and green striped socks peeked out from the blanket.

The fire crackled.

A small space can add warmth.

"So…"

"Start?" Roland snapped his fingers.

A stone tablet condensed next to the wall.

This is the "Initial Monument" made by Roland (named by Xander) - the rules discussed this time and the names of current and future members will be forever recorded on this monument.

…

Roland: First of all, this should be a small, secretive group that never expands.

Xander \u0026 Rose: Agreed.

Xander: There can be no special criteria - or the selection can be made by the leader. But every new member must be recognized by all members.

Roland \u0026 Rose: Agreed.

Rose: You can act unscrupulously and do whatever you want, but you can never do cult things - when you consider whether what you are going to do next is the method of a cultist, it means that it already is.

Roland \u0026 Xander: Agreed.

Three people, three proposals.

After one lap, return to Roland.

Roland: I hope our teachings have something to do with hope.

Xander \u0026 Rose: Agreed.

Xander: I hope to be able to do something "redemptive".

Roland \u0026 Rose: Agreed.

Rose: I hope we can help each other, blood is thicker than blood.

Roland \u0026 Xander: Agreed.

In the second round, all passed.

Back to Roland again.

Roland: We bring "hope" to the Weepers, but please note - we are not the "savior", we are not the so-called "reform" of the Gray Party, and we do not belong to the "tradition" of the Secret Party.

We do not deliberately steal from the rich and give money to the poor; nor do we deliberately target the evil and give "justice" to the good.

We pursue doctrine, but we do as we please, and we are never so fanatical as to be bound by it.

We are not Holy Cross.

We are not politicians either.

Xander \u0026 Rose: Agreed.

Xander: Our "hope" comes from our thoughts and cognition. We will act for profit, do evil for the sake of "hope", and at the same time, we may bring "despair" to people for the sake of hope - we are not an absolutely righteous organization, not Absolutely, it is not justice either.

We are a loose group, but we have a goal and must obey the leader's instructions.

--agree.

Rose: No one other than the members is allowed to tell what happened at night.

If there is a traitor among us, it is everyone's fault.

The traitor must die.

--agree.

The third round is over.

Taking shape.

The three people paused for a while, turning their heads to observe the slowly emerging characters on the stone tablet.

This is the rule set by them, the original three.

"It's starting to look more like a cult," Rose muttered.

——Because except for some rules that most groups have (such as no betrayal), the above text is undoubtedly repeating a sentence, or a word:

‘As you wish’.

Only cults are like this - although with the addition of "seemingly beautiful" modifications such as hope and redemption.

But the fewer rules, the fewer edges and walls, the more it means chaos and idealism.

"You can't expect a leader who has raised alien species to establish any legal sect, Fansitat." Xander glanced at the white snake coiled around Roland's shoulder and smiled: "You can't expect the Holy Cross or the Ring of Eternal Silence either. It was born out of a chat between the three of us.”

Rose ignored her and asked Roland: "We are missing the most important step."

Roland: "What?"

Rose: "Name."

The denomination must have a name.

Members of the sect also need names.

Just like the executive officer to the court, the detective and consultant to the supervisory bureau and the church, and the nature walker to the whirlpool.

"I thought of one, and I think it's suitable for us..."

"At least the three of us."

Roland lowered his eyes and put down the teacup, holding his cheek with one hand.

The red snow outside the window was even bigger.

"The Winged One."

The room suddenly became quiet.

"The Winged One."

"Our name."

He said.

It was like talking to the two ladies, or to himself.

Shandel quietly looked at the black-haired young man sitting quietly in the warmth, the black hair hanging lazily and loosely behind his back, and the amber eyes that were no longer confused.

He calmed down, as if he had finally made up his mind.

"I have been thinking about what we are."

His voice was very light, like copper water flowing out of amber, and every drop was deeply infiltrated by two obsessed souls.

"We grew up in dust and vigilance..."

"Monster."

"No doubt."

"We are, Cinder, Rose."

"In our eyes, or in the eyes of others, yes, absolutely."

Just like a pauper finding the will of the inheritance, the hot ashes and the scorching sun were covered by dark clouds, and the cracked land finally ushered in thunder and rain.

If a smile has a smell, the one Roland exudes now is extremely fascinating.

"It is a madman who can dress up without changing his face, has no "manliness", and is blinded by the curse."

"It is a double-sided pain of piety and evil thoughts, a saint who craves thorns and suffocating disasters."

"It is a crime and adventure that can never stop and will never be understood by "normal" others."

His voice slowly stewed two increasingly rapid breaths, burning and dazzling, and the gurgling streams entangled by golden threads gathered into turbulent waves in amber.

Roland's eyes passed through Rose and Chandel, looking at the red rain outside the window.

"More than that."

"It shouldn't be just that."

He said.

"Perhaps, we are still men who love men."

"Or women who love women."

"We are the fools who are laughed at by the public, the bad-skinned and deformed dogs who are out of the group and unknown, the sick weirdos who are not understood, the cold sharp knives who look at death indifferently, and the sons of suffering who separate flesh and blood..."

"We are scaly, horned, and hoofed..."

"Winged, finned, and web-weaving..."

"Rejected and hated..."

"Times."

"Monster."

This word made Rose and Chandel fall silent.

The world bites them, and they bite the world.

The pieces of flesh with teeth marks provide nutrients to their bodies, allowing something called hatred, distortion or madness to thrive.

They exhale their pain and inhale the ridicule and mockery of this world.

Roland slowly got up and stared at the exquisite round windows.

Red snow is everywhere, springs are gushing out from the earth.

So the smile of breaking free from the shackles continued to spread on his face.

The light could not depict his expression, leaving only a figure with wings gradually spreading on the wall.

"If grapes can bring destruction, monsters will choose to drink them."

"But now, they don't have to."

"Because I will tell them the difference between monsters and humans."

The shadow on the wall called out, black hair and wings intertwined into a fantasy that was born and swaying under the light.

"Nothing is missing."

He said.

"Just... an extra pair of wings."