The meeting place was the home of one of Roca's writer friends, Stewart.

This guy is said to have come from a family of an oil tycoon, but he didn't like to go to the company to inherit the family business, and ran out to become a writer chasing literary dreams.

Among the down-and-out, he has the most money, and is often joked by Roca as 'a man who will go back and inherit billions of dollars if he doesn't work hard'.

Steward's home is a two-story wooden villa located next to a beautiful lake.

According to him, every day you have to walk around the lake to find inspiration.

When Roca parked the car, he found that there were several cars parked around, and it was obvious that the other friends had almost arrived.

Seeing this scene, he hurriedly parked the car, sorted out his clothes, and knocked on the door of the villa.

"Roca, it's up to you."

It was Stewart who opened the door, he was tall, with long and thin cheeks, and he had dimples on his cheeks when he smiled: "Shalar also brought some fortune cookies over today, you should try them......"

"Uh-huh."

Rocca said yes, walked into the living room, and saw that there were already a lot of people coming, and they were surrounding a somewhat strange man, watching him paint.

He wears a slanted painter's hat, a sky-blue shirt and plaid suspenders, and his features are handsome, but on the whole he is not much different from the wandering painters who make a living by painting portraits everywhere in the squares.

"Who is this?"

Roca casually picked up the last fortune cookie on the tray next to him and asked.

"His name is Simpson, and he just came to our Olympiad after being introduced by Dick......" Stewart said a little unpleasantly, "calling himself a wandering abstract painter." ”

"He's snatched the attention of our girls, even Shala......" Rocca knew why Steward was like this, and laughed, breaking the fortune cookie in his hand with a crisp sound, and pulling out the note: "Doom?!" ”

"Huh?"

Stewards took the piece of paper and sneered, "Is it a prank on the merchant?" You're out of luck, brother! We've never eaten this before, and you've hit the jackpot! ”

"Prank...... Is it? ”

Rocca looked at the word doom and suddenly felt a sharp pain in his temple.

'I'...... What was forgotten? ’

'Doom? Why does it feel so familiar? ’

"Man, what's wrong with you? What are the aftermath of the last car accident? Stewart asked with concern.

"I ...... I'm okay! "Roca sat down on the couch and felt a little better of the headache, but more doubts followed: 'I...... I was in a car accident? Why did I forget? ’

"Ladies and gentlemen...... That's it! ”

At this moment, Simpson's brush stopped, revealing the complete painting.

Red, black, yellow, green...... The convergence of various bright colors on the canvas inexplicably made Roca feel a little disgusted.

In addition, there are the irregular, distorted lines, which can even make people dizzy under the long gaze, and it feels as if they are constantly wriggling.

"Fantastic...... I seem to see some of the charm of Master Constantine in it. ”

A teenage girl in a red dress exclaimed.

"I saw the rush of inspiration, it was amazing, the perfect color combination......"

"And this line ......"

Voices of praise were heard all around.

Rocca suddenly felt a little dizzy, and the buildings around him seemed to be centered around him, constantly turning in circles.

The figure became a little blurry.

"There are all literary figures here, and I think a beautiful painting has to match a beautiful little poem...... Simpson smiled, with some anticipation in his eyes: "I wonder who else will perform next?" ”

"If it's improvisational, we're Rocca here, of course!"

Stewart's face turned red when he saw Shala's gaze coming over, and he quickly pulled La Roca's arm.

He knows his talent, and if he doesn't go through a whole night of thinking and suddenly come up with a work, he will definitely make a fool of himself, so he can only ask his good friend for help.

"Well, Mr. Roca's literary name, I have admired it for a long time, and I have read your three-line poem in a magazine......"

Simpson smiled, handed over the cardboard and pen, and shoved it into Rocca's hand.

Roca's hearing was already a little foggy.

Surrounded though in the daytime, a literary salon.

But in his eyes, the figures became mottled and detached, like the branches of a black tree at night.

The many voices also turned into dark and hoarse whispers.

Crackling!

The firelight exploded, it was a bonfire, it was black figures, and there was a slightly crazy whisper......

A longing, like a store in the chest, is about to burst out from the brushstrokes inexorably.

Rocca took the pen and, in a sleepwalking gesture, began to write his poem on the paper.

No, this is not his poem, but it was originally engraved in his body and in his spirit, and at this time, it is just through this gesture that he reappears in the world!

'Rocca can still write poetry, it seems to be fine, but the state is a little fanatical......

Stewards muttered in his heart, stepped forward, and saw the slightly messy words on the paper.

The front was a mess, and it couldn't be seen clearly at all, like a child's casual graffiti, writing a few words, and being quickly crossed out.

Later, the amount of correction gradually decreased, and it became understandable.

It's like a constant creative process.

After a little tidying up, Steward felt himself see a small line of poetry, and read it softly:

"I have been born again and died, but I cannot reach the other ......"

"Death chases the shadows, and without the fragrance, it will not die in the withered ......"

"But this psalm shall endure, and shall give thee immortal ......"

These three lines of poetry have been altered in some places, but they have a strange charm that brightens the eyes of many people present.

"That's it, that's it!"

Simpson looked frenzied and shouted, "Immortal! Immortal existence! ”

His voice was strange, and seemed to be out of tune: "But this psalm will endure, and give you immortality......"

After being pronounced by him in a strange syllable, everyone present felt wrong.

Physically, it's fine, but mentally it's as if a black boulder has been pressed against it.

As soon as Stewards was about to say something, he found himself slumped on the ground, unable to even say a word.

Most of the people present were like that.

The only ones who could still hold their positions were Roca and Simpson.

Rocca rubbed his temples and looked at Simpson, who had come to grab his manuscript: "I seem to be ...... Seen you?! ”

"Do you remember, survivor of the ritual?"

Simpson's expression became gloomy: "It's your honor to listen to the voice of a great being, now...... You're useless. ”

He drew a black dagger and slowly stepped forward: "Death is the destination of everything!" ”

In this strange atmosphere, Roca was shocked to find that he had no strength and could not resist, so he could only watch Simpson come to him.

As if it was a hallucination brought about by death, he saw a curtain of light emerge in front of him.