Sitting in front of the mirror-smooth tabletop, Berrog turned the first page of the journal, and instead of words, he saw a dark blue stain of ink.

“……”

The expression on his face became solemn, and he turned a few more pages, but still didn't see a word.

The words in this journal have been erased by water stains, and many of the pages behind it have simply been glued together, and they can't even be opened.

After a quick flip through it, Belrog couldn't find a single page to read, he looked back at the maid and asked, "Have you touched this journal?" ”

"No?" Mo Liya tilted her head, raised her hands and shook it: "Master, I promise not to snoop on your privacy." ”

"It's weird." Belrog narrowed his eyes and wrung the broken pages.

- Even if he drank too much last night, he would not have dyed the entire journal like this, not to mention that there was no trace of ink spilling on the table, which made him even more confused.

In this case, it's almost like someone has deliberately destroyed the entire log book to cover up something, but if you really want to do it, why not just steal the log, but choose this time-consuming and laborious way?

In addition to this, the red light just now also confused Berrog. The fleeting eerie light made him wonder if there was something wrong with his eyes.

It seems that my sense of disobedience should not be an illusion. Since I woke up today, the situation here is a little strange......

"What time is it?" Belrog asked.

"Thirteen quarters." Moria replied.

"Oh......" Berrog replied first, and then suddenly realized something: "Thirteen quarters...... What is the meaning? ”

"It's thirteen o'clock early, almost fourteen." Moriya looked at him with some concern: "Master, what's wrong with you today?" ”

"I don't know, I'm a little dizzy." Belrog said.

After being reminded by Moria, he finally remembered the way the city of Sodom measured time, and the day was divided into forty-eight quarters, the first twenty-four quarters were called the morning quarters, and the latter quarters were the evening quarters, and the position of the sun was used as the critical point to divide the morning and evening.

However, although he remembered the unit of time, Belrog still felt that something was wrong, and always felt that the unit of time in his value did not seem to be the "moment" in Moria's mouth, but something else......

However, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember the original unit of measurement. The faint memories seem to have been washed away, and I can't recall them at all.

"Strange ......"

Now, Berrog naturally no longer blames the reason for the memory problem on last night's drinking party, his head is not fragile enough to be burned directly by the spirits.

- Is it true that he is the lord of Belrog...... No, is it really this person?

Belrog put down his journal and looked down at his long, bony hands. He stood up and touched his forehead, which was still aching, and with Moria's support, he entered the long corridor outside the bedroom.

The castle's interiors are indeed gorgeous, but they are not the kind of luxury that is common in aristocratic domains, and the armor and weapon racks leaning against the walls, as well as the shiny weapons and armor on them, all indicate the fact that the lord was a warrior.

The interior of the castle was filled with the atmosphere of wild war, and several soldiers in light armor walked down the corridor, and when they saw Belrog, they all leaned against the wall and raised their right hands to salute him:

"Give our lives to Lord Belrog!" The soldiers shouted.

"Well......" Belrog, who was a little uncomfortable, responded perfunctorily.

After washing, he and Moria entered the second-floor dining room, sat down at a long table covered with a white tablecloth, and picked up a knife and fork to "attack" a steak on the tray.

"Do you eat such a greasy thing in the morning?" Belrog looked at the steak and chunks of chicken on the table.

"Master, this is your request." Standing on the sidelines, Moria reminded, "You said that as a warrior, you must eat a lot of meat to replenish your strength at all times......

"Oh, it seems like that's happening." Berrog nodded, slipped a piece of steak into his mouth, and felt the rich taste of gravy spread in his mouth.

He remembered that he had indeed made such a request to the chef in the castle after returning from an expedition. In that case, it's no surprise that this dish is served for breakfast.

But...... The source of this memory seems to be something that is not quite right.

- Before Moria's reminder, Belrog didn't think about it at all, he remembered it with Moria's words.

If it weren't for Moria, would she really be able to remember this kind of thing just by herself?

Berrog closed his eyes, tried to remember his previous battles, and immediately realized that he could barely remember anything.

It didn't feel like amnesia, but a thick black mist that hung through the torrent of memories, completely cutting off the previous memories. Whenever he began to recall what had happened, even with his eyes closed, his vision would be overshadowed by a shadow that was darker than the "darkness" in front of him.

There was some kind of desperate, impenetrable barrier that was interfering with his memory. What's even more terrifying is that his memories are almost as if they are being triggered by a specific keyword, and once he hears Moria's words, he will immediately recall the specific content.

Realizing that something was wrong, Belrog jerked back and fixed his gaze on the smiling face of Moria, the maid's smile was so beautiful that it resembled a "holy woman" in the church fresco.

"Dine, master."

Molya smiled and nodded to Belrog, but that beautiful face looked particularly terrifying in Belrog's eyes.

He jerked to his feet, rushed to the weapon rack by the cafeteria wall, grabbed a dagger and pointed the sharp blade straight at Moria's throat.

"Who the hell are you?" Belrog roared under his breath.

"I'm your personal maid, master......" The smile on Moria's face suddenly turned into stunned, and she trembled and took a step back: "What are you doing?" ”

"Who the hell are you...... Who am I? What a place is this......"

At the thought of these questions, Belrog suddenly had a splitting headache, and the strange red light appeared in front of him again, causing his right hand to tremble, and the short sword almost fell out of his hand.

"Lord Belrog, please don't do this...... Courier ......"

Moria seemed to want to say something, but suddenly closed her mouth, her brow furrowed, and she remembered the word that had just come out of her mouth. After a while, he slowly spoke:

"Master, do you have a title called 'The Messenger'?"

At hearing this word, Belrog's headache intensified, and he dropped his dagger and leaned against the table, gasping for breath, but smelling an inexplicable putrid smell.

- His own body seems to be starting to rot.