Midnight.

Colchis finally slowly and leisurely turned to the end of her day, and the darkness that had not been seen for a long time slowly spread across the sky, like an old robe enveloping the earth that had been steaming for six days. The jewels that adorned the temple cooled down as the light faded, until the light and the heat of the sun were swallowed up into the night.

At the end of the day, these magnificent gemstones neither shine nor radiate heat. The stellar brilliance they stole is also returned to its original owner in this cycle.

The Sanctuary of the Three Kings in the City of Bethlehem is brightly lit. During the day, mirrors embedded in the walls cast sunlight into every corner, leaving no shadow in even the tiniest corners, hence the name "Shadowless Church".

But at this moment, it is sixty-six staggered candles that evaporate with psychedelic smoke and aroma. The chief priest, John, was prostrate on the ground, his snow-white hair neatly tied under the crown.

In the direction where he bowed his head, a white statue of a goddess was covered with light veils, holding myrrh in her hand, and her posture was solemn and elegant. Sixty-six rays of light focused on the two clear amethysts in her eyes, shining brightly, as if the goddess was looking at the devout believers under her seat with a smile.

"Our maiden, the noblest maid of the Mother of God." John's forehead pressed against the floor, and he opened his mouth tremblingly. His voice was blurred by the vicissitudes of time, intermingling coughing and wheezing.

"Give me raisins to replenish my strength." His voice grew clearer, and the bellows-like wheezing slowly waned.

"Give me apples to soothe my heart." It seems that the years are going backwards, and the vitality gradually floats to the words. The dead branches on the altar bud in a trembling way.

"Because I'm sick of love." The clear and melodious voice of the young man flowed through the hall. The large flowers bent the rootless wood, struggling upwards and upwards to kiss the corners of the goddess's marble skirt.

"Praise be to Shah Garton, for your grace is unwavering."

The goddess stood on the golden altar, her white toes lifted by flowers, and she smiled silently, staring at her sturdy black-haired priestess.

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

"Why do you keep staring at her?" Vogrim asked.

"I'm not staring at her, I'm just looking at our little one." Victor replied that he was leaning against his favorite corner, where the cabinet and the wall formed a shadow, bent one leg and slowly wiped the boning knife against his knee.

"You don't have to look at it."

"There's no need."

"But you scared her, and she was upset." The phoenix was also idly leaning against the corner not far from the cradle, fiddling with the ends of his white hair.

The Midnight Lord finally stopped tending to the torture equipment and looked up, casting a shadow on his brow bone. "Why should I care?"

"Because I'm going to be upset." Foggrim's voice was as light as water, and it flowed into the ears of the woman who knew nothing. She glanced at her protector under the cover of her hair, and gently stroked the back of the child in her arms.

After one or two experiences, the little one no longer chokes on milk, but she just loves it. It reminded her of the time when she was holding her own child. Not so robust, but just as beautiful and intelligent.

She carefully wiped the milk stains from the corners of the child's mouth. "What greed...... Isn't it enough for you to eat? Okay, okay, bad guy, I can't help it. ”

She was responded to by a loud milk burp, a full, fleshy smirk on her face like a milk burp. She couldn't help but bend the corners of her mouth and stretched out her finger to point the tip of her nose. "Little villain, you learned to play tricks before you even spoke."

"Oh...... Ahh......h......hh Come, let mom kiss you. ”

"You see it." The corners of Victor Nunu's mouth. "Mortal emotions are so varied. Two days ago, she was grieving for her children and ran mad into the desert. Now at the behest of a group of monsters, he holds a freak whose name he doesn't know, and happily thinks of himself as his mother. Restless, tsk, you can hook them into looking for death and life with one sentence, what's there to be unhappy about? ”

He lazily leaned back against the wall, turning his mirror-like blade against the light. "If you really don't have a place to consume kindness, just smile at her, and she will probably be able to leave that dead child behind."

"She's upset." Vogrim repeated, narrowing his eyes.

The Midnight Lord sneered back. "Why don't you care when the little thing bites her and bleeds?"

A piece of white, soft cloth fell on the face. Victor frowned, and looked around with the tip of his knife.

A glove that conforms to the size of the original, with fine workmanship and fine stitches.

"Where did you get this?"

"Your robes."

"Can't I stop you even if I'm hiding in a niche!"

"I found it down there, too." Fogrem got up, threw the dust that didn't exist at the corner of his clothes, and said politely, "Now, duel, do you mind?" ”

Astarte raised his hand: "I'll say one last word." ”

"Please."

Victor stared at those purple eyes and licked his lips. "Fogham, you're a self-righteous bastard freak."

The phoenix has an elegant head.

Half a minute later, the Chemos lifted his left leg and stomped it back before Nostramo's expletives could come out. Turning his head to a reassuring smile, "It's okay, ma'am, it's just a daily joke." ”

The woman looked at the Space Marine, who was slumped to the ground, gasping for breath, and then at the white-haired giant in neat clothes, nodded vigorously, and moved two steps away with a little difficulty.

Victor rolled his eyes upward, spreading his limbs in a large font. "You know she's not going to believe it, do you?"

Fogrem smiled unchanged as he grinded the tip of his shoe. "But she'll feel better that way."

"You're as sick as ever."

"Don't stare at her anymore, understand?"

The Midnight Lord raised his right hand. "What is the standard of staring?"

"It's all that makes her uncomfortable."

"Oh." Victor said with little interest, "My presence makes her uncomfortable." ”

"Then try not to be alone with her. You can try the new bath more while I'm away. ”

The phoenix lowered its head, and the starry light reflected in its eyes. "And if I come back and find her mutilated, tortured, or murdered...... I'll tear you apart again, do you understand? ”

"I have ears, Chemoth's deformed viper."

Fogrem shrugged, crouched down and grabbed his shoulders to lift Astarte up—or rather lift him up, wiping the blood from the bumps on his face. Victor touched the corner of his bruised mouth and stared at the handkerchief: "This looks familiar." ”

"Oh, I found the one in your supply box too."