"What's that?"

Nathaniel quietly looked in the direction of the city, with a hint of abruptness and a slight confusion in his eyes.

Panicked shouts and cries could be heard not far away, and the sound of artillery fire echoed in the distant sky, but it did not crash into the city shrouded in scarlet and gray black, leaving only a few ripples of water before dissolving.

There weren't many people who were lucky enough not to stay in Lansana before the riots, but there were some, like the children who were lucky enough to be sent out of Lansana.

No, maybe not lucky, Nathaniel looked at Vincent of Lansana City in the distance with a serious look, and affirmed the answer in his heart.

"Sheriff must have done it." Vincent's tone was slightly complicated, slightly low.

It was Mr. Hashem, Nathaniel closed his eyes, walked quickly to Vincent, and grabbed his sleeve.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"To be honest, I don't know." Vincent smiled wryly.

Nathaniel let go of Vincent's sleeve and was silent, not speaking.

Mr. Vincent was undoubtedly a man to be trusted, but Nathaniel did not think that he would choose to protect them first in such a time.

In the Southern Continent, children who can't do their best to survive on their own are worthless most of the time.

Nathaniel's hand in his pocket clenched the badge with a hint of coldness, the slightly sharp edges that seemed to cut through the skin.

But not for everyone, Nathaniel's clenched hand slowly loosened.

Mr. Hashem is strange in that he affirms these things and denies them at the same time.

While saying that they will only shelter if they show enough value, they choose to shelter him when he is in danger due to ignorance.

How his worth can be offset by the help of someone who can solve the demonic curse.

"Can we still see Mr. Hashem?" Nathaniel asked softly.

"I don't know." Vincent almost muttered.

-----------------

Thin threads of silk that fell from the darkness quietly wound around the cold, dazed people.

The faint fluctuations quietly flowed down the fine silk threads into everyone's hearts, and the cold blankness disappeared little by little.

An eerie frenzy crept over all faces.

"Endless anticipation,"

"Endless Pain,"

"The Silent One Who Never Forgets,"

"I prayed for ......"

Agnes whispered the prayer, her voice flat, the words of supplication, but there was not a hint of respect in her tone.

When she was still in Fenerport, the members of Nature's Heart Team had mentioned in her occult lessons that the evil gods would completely take possession of the bodies and minds of the believers, and even descend on them, bringing them more power, but it would be difficult for the believers to resist the erosion of the evil gods.

In the six months since she left Fenerport, she has learned more about the process, and has more than once used what might be her own power in this way.

What Navarre saw made her understand something deeper.

"Price" was the word she could never avoid when she wanted to use that power.

What was Agnes Pagani, daughter of the Earl of Fenerport? What was Ella Boyesia like in the Sunia Sea and the Tempest? What was Sharif Hashem like in the Southern Continent?

As mentioned by "Huizhen", who may or may not be himself:

"Whether it is the tribulation of the human heart or the tribulation of the Dao heart, whether it can be overcome or not, it will permanently change the person, and then eventually shape the person into the form of his own human heart and Dao heart."

This path requires a person to abandon what belongs to him step by step and be molded into the appearance of desire. Whether she wants it or not, there are always things that she is not so willing to abandon that are lost little by little in the process.

But what is about to be lost is always precious, whether in an extraordinary sense or in a more mundane sense.

At least as long as she still had them, they would make her willing to pay some price in exchange for something she would be more willing to see now.

Agnes felt her consciousness fall in the viscous darkness, sinking into a cold, painful shell, the voice of which still reverberates.

“...... I pray for this place to be extraordinary and conditionally isolated from the world. ”

The darkness rapidly expanded the moment Agnes' words ended, engulfing the entire city, all taking on a looming color.

The strength of the arm that flowed with a black viscous liquid suddenly increased, as if it was about to pierce the darkness that permeated it.

Intersecting filaments emerged from around Him, wrapping, binding, and flowing with black, viscous liquid of the arm, momentarily unable to move.

“...... This condition should be the expectation of more than half of the people. ”

Agnes said without any pause.

She had told Vincent what she really thought, but perhaps she was taken crazy.

Who is responsible for the unequal deaths? It's the warlords, it's the colonizers, the ones who control power and try to kill others, and all the people who control the extraordinary.

She couldn't remember where the idea came from.

Maybe it was rooted in her heart from a more distant past, or maybe it was just a flash of inspiration when she saw these things in the Southern Continent.

The power to upset the balance may sometimes be a good thing in the Southern Continent, but more often it is a bad thing, especially when this power cannot and cannot be shared equally.

But extraordinary power is indeed a part of this world that cannot be denied.

She can't deny a part of this world on behalf of these people, and can only use this method to make the people here survive as much as possible at this moment.

At least alive and with the possibility of making a choice.

The illusory darkness of the surroundings suddenly solidified, and both the streets sprinkled with scarlet blood and the dilapidated houses disappeared in front of Angnes's eyes at this moment, leaving only the eerie body of empty pitch black and wriggling flesh.

He was like a huge tree doused with oil, its outstretched branches carried by arms that protruded one strange thing after another. Above the "tree trunk", on the surface of the viscous black liquid, one after another bloodshot black and white eyes rolled everywhere, so that the witness's reason was instantly emptied.

Several arms were grabbing at Agnes as if in anger.

Agnes felt as if her mind was going blank, but the next moment it was back up, but the outstretched arm was already in front of her.

Agnes's body shattered along the crack-like dark streaks, the thin threads of silk pulling each fragment in all directions, and the only intact head fell into the clear light behind it, and then fell into a sea of gray and black.

Before the empty darkness vanished, a figure sketched out in Angness's vision

It was a woman dressed in a simple robe, tied with a bark belt, barefoot, and hair draped.