They all call me the Outer God

As he spoke, Riya took out a crumpled tissue from his pocket and wiped his face. He watched the paper get soaked with water and threw it directly into the trash can next to him.

"This is no longer a situation we can control. We might even get ourselves into trouble."

"You're right. We'd better find a place to hide."

Style agreed with Riya's idea very much, and then changed his mind: "If this day is really the anniversary of a certain god, those sea mermen are very likely to be his followers, and the purpose of appearing here is to avenge him."

"It's not that simple. Since there are legends about the Heavy Rain Festival, the event should have happened a long time ago, and if you want revenge, you can just massacre the town nearby. There is no need to spend so much effort.

As mentioned before, they want to reproduce and create their own civilization. If I were them, I would only have one purpose at this moment."

Riya closed his eyes, reached out to wipe off the excess water stains and scales, and threw them hard on the ground. Then, he took out a kerosene lamp and lit it. His face became gloomy under the light of the kerosene lamp.

"We have been patient for too long. Our homeland is occupied by a group of enemy foreigners. I am unwilling to accept this.

I want to destroy the Church of the Sun. Not only that, I want to revive the Lord of faith.

For this, even if it means sacrificing all the tribesmen and civilizations, it is worth it."

...

"How appropriate! On this day, He reappeared. On the sea, is our former homeland."

On the top of the Church of the Sun, a three-meter-tall fishman opened and closed the fins on his back, stretched out his flippers to touch the upside-down abyss, but he could not reach it anyway. He could only hold the raindrops flowing from the phantom.

"He is crying for his own bones and his family."

The fishman closed his eyes, his eyebrows full of resentment. He had been waiting for too long. If it were not for the protection of the bright sun, he could have wiped out Grani and even taken down the Gekoso Mountains in the north.

"My Lord, the storm is your will. Even the sun can't stop your resurrection this time."

"Swear to [vague words] - resurrected from the bottom of the extremely cold abyss..."

Its teeth were "clicking" and chanting unknown sacrificial words. It wanted to poke the roof of the church with the spear in its hand, but the next second, it was suddenly kicked in the air.

"Bang!!!"

This kick was heavy, and it kicked it directly from the roof of the church to the wishing pool in front of the church.

"Who!?"

"Splash!"

The fishman stood up from the pool in a rage, his pupils had shrunk into needles, but he only saw two dark crow shadows on the roof.

Facing such a shadow, it was alarmed and fell back into the pool: "It's you... the keeper's bird-beaked doctor."

"Ah, you have been too restless these days, even the doctor can't stand it."

The bird-beaked doctor named Gro moved his wrists a few times and patted his companion's shoulder.

"What should I do, James? This place may not be conducive to the patient's recovery. Do you want to transfer to another hospital?"

"It doesn't matter. My patient will die in two days."

"..."

"You are really careless."

"Isn't this all predicted by the prophet? I'll see if he will die in two days. In fact, I feel that Kercha will not die so easily, but your patient is not a good person either.

→

I have heard that he and the [Prophet] meme are highly compatible, and the predictions he makes are never wrong.

That is to say, Kercha may really be finished, ahahaha."

"Why are you so happy?"

"Hey! Because I think there is no such thing as something that can kill Kercha. , he gives people the feeling that he can live for a long time, so long that he can live even if you and I are gone. "

Gero did not move: "Strange evaluation, I heard that your patient is a serious patient, and it is hard to say whether he can live until next year."

"Then you just wait, Gro."

"I still stick to my opinion. Nothing can easily kill their patients in front of the bird-beaked doctor, except for the disease, but we exist to cure the "disordered syndrome."

"In the next two days, we will deal with those blind beasts who want to sacrifice."

...

On the other side, Ria and Style have completely retreated to the tavern, found a seat and sat down, drinking alone.

What puzzled Style was that Ria would put the money for a glass of wine on the table for every glass of wine she drank.

"I didn't expect you to be so honest. In this case, no one would find out even if you had a free meal. Not taking all the wine away from them is already considered humane."

Ria shook her head and continued to pay a few swars on the table. The kerosene lamp was placed on the table to provide lighting.

"For me, the process of giving money to others is joyful, and of course, the process of others giving me money is joyful too."

"I don't understand the train of thought of you black marketeers."

Steier drank a glass of wine, put down the glass with a "pop", walked to the place where the brass band was playing with some boredom, picked up a guitar, stretched out his hand and scratched it, and the deafening music suddenly sounded.

"It turns out that this place has an echo!" Steier looked at the stage behind him excitedly. The stage was semi-cylindrical, with curtains on the circular part, and behind it was the backstage preparation area of ​​the brass band.

He raised the drumsticks again and planned to hit the drums. It is said that playing the guitar and hitting the drums at the same time, or even playing the guitar and hitting the drums with a saxophone, can make people look more stupid.

Riya did not stop him, but followed his "music" and continued to place new swarls on the table, stacking the coins into a pyramid shape and then knocking them down. The sound of money colliding with money was enough to make anyone tremble.

"This may be the real 'entertainment to death', Kercha. Even though the outside has become like that, we can still find our own fun in the tavern. We have to toast to our entertainment spirit!"

"Then we must have a toast."

Riya raised the glass and looked at Style from a distance, and the foam in the glass was cleared away.

He was two days away from the predicted death, and two days later was also the day when the rain festival ended.

"Think about it, there is still something worth looking forward to... What killed me, and what image will I end this bizarre... dream with."

Riya piled up a new coin pyramid again, and he stretched out his hand and pushed it, "crackling", and all the coins collapsed.

He yawned and leaned back on his seat, pressing the coins under his arm, not a single coin sticking out.

After an unknown amount of time, Riya suddenly stood up and staggered toward the outside of the tavern. Steyer quickly asked him what he wanted to do.

Riya pointed outside the tavern.