Miloca frowned in confusion. For a child who has just lost his entire family www.biquge.info Askar's words are a bit like an obscure prophetic poem, too profound.

"You'll understand when you meet you, silly boy. Still smiling, Aska slowly closed his increasingly heavy eyelids and sighed, "Bane can't bear to be lonely!"

"Aska, Aska, Aska......" Miloka howled as she shook her body as the temperature drained, calling out the troll's name over and over again.

"I've sent a few teams to find Say - that's the name, the orc - and haven't heard yet, neither good nor bad. At some point, Ives leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded, and said to himself as Miloca went limp.

The boy stood silently, his tear-blurred gaze passing over Ives' shoulder and toward the other side of the corridor. He walked past Ives, through the corridors, through the utility rooms where everyone gathered, past the kitchens where the sea monsters were slaughtered, and into unfamiliar streets.

Lion Harbour at night is deserted. The doors and windows of the shops facing the street were closed, and the street lamps that should have been on all night were dim. Heavy snow fell on the neat roofs and rows of bald trees, making the scene desolate. Miloka wandered aimlessly through the streets, her boots creaking into the snow, disturbing the crows perched on the branches, and they flew into the night sky with strange screams, hiding in the deep darkness.

At first, Miloka wanted to go all the way, sparing the broken Saihado Bridge, crossing the vast boundary forest, crossing the dangerous Great Rift Valley, and going straight to the royal palace in Black Rock City to fight Barnett to the death. But when he realized that he was penniless, not only did he not have food supplies, but he also did not have a decent weapon, he deeply despaired of his insignificance. Only now did he truly realize how humble mortals were in the face of fate, and how worthless those self-righteous efforts were. He knelt in the snow decadently, looking up at the sky, letting the snowflakes burrow into his hollow eyes, letting the melted snow soak his thin linen trousers.

Ridiculously, fate is not only naughty, but also unforgiving.

Several huge barrels of oak and iron flew in from the direction of the jungle, and in the dead silence of the night, their roar tearing through the air was like a landslide, and the aural impact was far less than the violent shock they inflicted when they landed.

"The battle begins. "The shock wave of the barrel hammering the ground reminded Miloca. The depressed boy could feel the whole city awakened, sobbing and sighing in horror from behind the wooden baffles that replaced the curtains, the crying of babies and the barking of cats and dogs overshadowed the complaints of women, and brave men in the prime of life came out into the streets with shovels or sticks, as if they were about to fight to the death against the invaders to defend their homes and loved ones. Soon, the armoured defenders were galloping through the city on horseback, anxiously searching for the inhabitants as they drove the inhabitants back to their houses.

Miloca was still kneeling in the middle of the road, a cavalryman's horse coming to a halt behind him, his raised hooves nearly breaking his bones.

"Are you blind!!" cried the cavalryman, who raised his whip and was about to whip it at the impassive boy.

"Stop!

Miloka didn't have to look back to know that it was Ives who was retreating the cavalry, and he stood up silently to sweep the snow from his body, not ready to negotiate with his savior.

"You don't even have a beautiful sword, and no matter how good a swordsman you are, you can't do great things. Ives said, tossing a familiar sword beside Miloca, "Take it! Use him to cut off Barnett's head, if you don't care about your life, and don't care how sad it would be for someone who cares about you." ”