He looked at himself in the mirror, and he looked back at himself in the mirror with a blank face; He reached out and touched the cold mirror, and the self in the mirror touched His fingers.

"Original...... That's what I look like. ”

Compared with the years when he followed the red of war to the north and south, his height seems to have rushed up a little, and his face with elven characteristics has lost a little roundness, a little more angular, his eyebrows and eyes are deeper, and his temperament is more calm—these changes are the traces carved by ten years on an ordinary person, to gather and disperse the joys and sorrows, and to the trivial matters of firewood, rice, oil and salt. In the great sorrow of the separation of relatives and friends and the collapse of civilization, these ten years were erased by him in a self-deceptive way; In the great sorrow of recalling the past and facing the truth, the past ten years have turned into sharp buds, breaking out of his shell and tearing His flesh and blood.

The past is like a shadow, how can you possibly cut the shadow open?

The corners of Thoth's mouth curved in a mocking arc, and the starlight swirled in his desolate eyes, staring into the eyes of the man in the mirror as if he were gazing into two unfathomable cosmic black holes. It wasn't until a tall figure appeared in the mirror that he collected all his expressions.

“Alex.”

The Creator uses silence to represent acquiescence. The newly awakened hermit said, "This shell seems to contain more than flesh magic. ”

"After using flesh magic to reshape your nineteen-year-old appearance, I added a bit of fantasy to make this body change with your perception of yourself."

Thoth smiled faintly, "So I stopped in the form of a teenager and made you feel uneasy?" ”

"It's dangerous to have a bias in your own perception."

"If you think about it, there are stages in the process of the night evoking my memories in my dreams." At this, he paused nonchalantly, "Very ...... Gradual. ”

"I'm sorry for making it my own way."

"I don't blame you, you have helped me a lot, and I have no reason to ask you for everything and my heart." Thoth shook his head, "As the night says, it hurts to wake up from a dream, but I'm glad I was able to wake up...... Hiss...... Still coming? ”

He covered his face, his skin splitting from under his palm, and the flesh beneath it solidified into black and white peeping eyes.

The white crow poked its head out of the window and shrank back before the Creator could look at it.

While the rest of the angel kings were drinking and having fun, Ulorius was painting. On the one hand, because He was not so good at drinking, when drunk, he easily revealed his mythical creatures, and then swept all the cups and plates to the ground with his tail and wrapped them firmly around others, and on the other hand, because the Lord gave Him a sacred and urgent task: to paint a picture, an illustration from a holy text.

But unlike in the past, the protagonist is not the Creator, nor any of the kings of angels who follow Him, or even those devout believers who have done outstanding deeds...... It's a true God.

"Voyeur" pathway sequence 0, Hermit.

The resuscitated hermit looked pale, silent, and detached, very different from the appearance of standing under Medici before, and had no desire to communicate with Ulorius, but only symbolically displayed his authority to inspire Ulorius to paint—which could easily be misinterpreted as arrogance, but Ulorius did not feel despised because he was far less sensitive to social interaction than fate, and partly because, as a snake of mercury that was always invisible to others because of his over-inspiration, He intuitively felt that the hermit was also immersed in some kind of vision that he had only seen for himself, and he could not extricate himself for a long time.

Ulorius traced the contemplative outline of the god's gaze on the wall with charcoal, and various colors of paint were placed on the wooden frame beside him.

Red is the blood of the nightingale, used to dye the roses that symbolize love, white is the awe-inspiring frost, spit out from the mouth of the snow maiden, brown is the flowing earth, carrying the obsession of a peasant, black is the wreckage of the city, showing the majesty of the flame of the gods' wrath, silver is the king's sword, but the scabbard is far more precious than the blade, the pink is the colorful falling English, and the pure land can be seen in the depths of the flowers...... Ancient legends are outlined under the brush of the Angel of Destiny, although he himself cannot know the specific meaning, but vaguely feels that he has left behind a profound message, so when he puts it down, it adds a solemnity.

A meandering picture of all sorts of things, ethereal as clouds and mist, mighty as a river, on which open roses watered with the blood of the nightingale, floating frost lamented by the Snow Maiden, burning flames symbolizing divine punishment, piling up the wreckage of the city of fornication, sleeping swords falling at the bottom of the lake, hiding a paradise that is not invaded by the flames of war...... The hermit holds the scroll in one hand and throws the scroll into the distance with the other.

Finally, Ulorius dotted his eyes with purple.

A pair of eyes that peek into the secrets.

He was engrossed in painting from sunrise to sunset, and the black crow on the bitter orange tree stood from sunrise to sunset, motionless, like a stone sculpture.