"Other worlds?"

Sherlock was still not too surprised, if [Hell] and [Earth] were two worlds, then theoretically there must be more worlds, which he had thought about a long time ago.

But he never thought that he would actually witness these worlds with his own eyes, although they were only small points of light in the distant darkness, but they were still extremely novel, and even under careful thought, there was a shocking feeling.

"So, since this is not a cosmic space, why did you make this place black?" Sherlock asked casually as he looked around.

"Of course, it's to make it easier for you to accept all this."

“.” Sherlock tilted his head as if he had misheard, "Do you want to listen to what you're saying, and by the way, think about what you're like." You're a big urchin on fire now, with big eyes in between, and I'm standing in the middle of the universe talking to you, and you're lighting a cigarette for me with your tentacles hundreds of kilometers in diameter, and you're telling me it's all to make it easier for me to accept? ”

The voice in his head hesitated slightly: "Although it doesn't sound right, believe me, it's relatively easy to accept compared to the truth." ”

Sherlock listened to the other party's explanation, then took a puff of his own cigarette and was silent for a moment: "You know me." ”

"yes, I knew that after telling you, you would be impatient to see what this place really looks like."

"Of course, so hurry."

Before he could finish speaking, the darkness around him suddenly began to melt, like a cloud of black ink, slimy and faded, and behind that ink, a room that did not look very strange was revealed.

It was a very ordinary room, with white walls, and the light from the recessed light bulb above his head was not too bright, and Sherlock found himself sitting in a chair with a table in front of him that looked like metal, and across the table was a middle-aged man in his 40s, wearing a pair of glasses and a formal suit that was not ugly, at this time, he was looking at Sherlock, and in his hand was an open file folder.

"Welcome to your end." The middle-aged man in front of him said with a smile.

Sherlock didn't respond to the other party, but looked at the walls around him with more interest, and then looked at his hands, and even touched the ordinary table and chair several times, before he slowly spoke: "If you said before, you are actually just a brain fused with an artificial celestial body, then this scene should not be real now, right?" ”

"Then it's up to you to define the real." The middle-aged man in front of him didn't think too much about it, and responded directly, Sherlock had a feeling as if he had said this kind of thing many times before.

"You see, you're dead now, and it stands to reason that you can't sit here and communicate with me with your breath and make a sound with your vocal cords, but in fact, you're really sitting here, and everything happens."

Sherlock listened, thought for a moment, and then nodded: "Yes, it would be too one-sided to limit the concept of [reality] to physical interactions. ”

Before the words fell, the middle-aged man in front of him seemed to breathe a sigh of relief: "Thank God, you can really understand my words, I thought I would have to explain to you for more than half a day." ”

"Sounds like you've explained this to anyone else?"

"Of course."

"In other words, I'm not the first person to come here?"

"Of course not, as you saw just now, there are so many worlds, no matter how harsh the screening conditions are, you can always find some amazing people to come here, but you are the first one who doesn't need me to waste time explaining this."

"Hmm." Sherlock nodded, he very much agreed with the other party's evaluation of himself, if only amazing and brilliant people are qualified to come here, then he must be one of them, but, in addition to this, there are too many questions that need to be answered by the person in front of him.

For example.

What kind of place is this, the meeting place of many worlds?

Listening to the meaning of the other party's words, the people who can come here are selected from many worlds, so why are these people singled out, and what is the purpose of picking these people out?

In the same way, if you are not the first person to come here, then who are the people who have been selected before, where are they, and can you meet them?

Oh yes, and that sentence.

"What do you mean by [Welcome to My Ending?] 】”

Since there were so many questions, Sherlock could only pick one casually.

"Oh, the meaning of [ending] is that what you asked for in your previous world has been completed, generally my definition of [ending] is that you are dead, or one of your final wishes has been fulfilled, or you have despaired of the previous world, satisfied, there is nothing to love, it is boring to stay, standing at the peak of the level beyond that world, in short, there is no need for you to return to the world you were in before, this kind of situation is called [ending].

Then you've reached the end, and it's just right that you're good enough, so it's only natural that you've come here. ”

"Am I already [ending]?"

Sherlock looked at the cigarette butt in his hand that couldn't burn enough, and thought about it, although he easily understood the other party's explanation of the [ending], but he felt that what he had to do in the previous world was not finished, but he was just an unfortunate death.

As soon as he thought of this, a lot of regret arose in his heart, and with the blessing of his paranoid personality, he even seemed to be less concerned about the remaining questions that had not been answered.

"To be honest, I don't feel like I'm nostalgic for the world I used to be." Sherlock tried to extinguish the cigarette butt with his fingers, but the spark always rekindled: "I'm just dead, I want to come back to life if I can, there are still a lot of things in my world waiting for me to mix." ”

"It's a pity, although everyone in our personnel list is very powerful, no one has the ability to bring people back to life."

"So there's no way?"

"Yes, to be dead is to be dead, unless a miracle happens."

Unless a miracle happens, Sherlock is a man who is good at working miracles, as is well known to anyone who knows him.

But he is dead now, and it is impossible for the dead to work miracles again.

In a huge crater on the edge of the Elbes Mountains, the elderly Dante was still holding Sherlock by the throat with both hands.

His fingertips were clasped right on the other party's arteries, and his hands were folded, compressing the other party's trachea to the extreme, preventing a little bit of air from slipping through.

It went on like this for a long time, until the old man could no longer feel the beating of the blood vessels in his fingertips, and the person in front of him no longer breathed.

He finally exhaled deeply, carefully letting go of his hands.

He stood up and staggered to a nearby gravel and sat down.

Sherlock is dead, and another man who threatens the world is killed by himself, and the source of the mess that stirs the world together is crushed by himself, just as it was in the past.

Dante lowered his head, and the spine that had just come down as if the gods had descended gradually bent into the sky.

At this break, the exhaustion of the whole body swept over like a sea of mountains.

He was too old, the contractor had more than ordinary abilities, but he still couldn't live long, and he hadn't exercised like this for decades, and after this battle, he only felt a dull pain in his heart, and with his breath, his chest, throat, and even his brain were tinged with a spicy ting.

【Let's take a break】

Mistress Dante thought so, then closed his eyes, and let the weight of his head bend several cars even more.

In this way, he sat on a gravel in the mountains and fell into a deep sleep.

At the same time, in the midst of London's loss, there was a pre-storm tranquility everywhere.

Last night, a large-scale clash broke out between the defenders stationed on the outskirts of the city, a shell was intercepted by a high altitude and flew towards the city, and the remaining gunpowder turned a remote church into a sea of fire, although there were no deaths, but several nuns were still seriously injured.

As if the shell had inspired some kind of revelation, people fled back to their homes in a panic, and the shops on the street were naturally empty, as if to meet the occasion, and most of the vegetables and food were looted in just a few hours.

At 1 p.m., light rain.

Usually it is the time when the crowds are at their highest, but the streets are empty.

In the drizzle, a man in a raincoat hurried across the long street into an alley, knocked on the door of an obscure bar deep in the alley, despite the mud splashing his clothes on the ground

(End of chapter)