In the dimly lit corridor, Tails stiffened his face, put his hands on Morat's "wheelchair" entangled in black veins (it took him a long time to finish the ideological struggle, and he barely touched it), and reluctantly became the other's motivation to move forward according to the instructions of the Black Prophet.

As if sensing his approach, the black-veined vine immediately squirmed, "politely" making room for space in the back of the chair, just enough to accommodate a pair of hands.

This only made Tails feel more strange and hesitant.

"Don't worry, it doesn't bite. ”

As if seeing the Duke's expression behind him, the Black Prophet giggled.

Only cannibalism.

The old intelligence director muttered leisurely.

Tails tugged at the corners of his mouth and moved on.

It's not that he didn't want to refuse to shirk, but since a weak (?) disabled old man in his last years of life asked for it, he had no choice but to comply.

However, are the people of the secret department dead?

The boy complained silently:

So much so that I asked a newcomer to help...... Boy.

Shouldn't this job be done by the kind-hearted, sharp-toothed Raphael?

Wheels covered with strange vines rolled to the ground, but eerily silent.

Raphael's figure disappeared in the darkness ahead, and only the sound of footsteps could be heard faintly, barely showing Tails the way.

They move forward silently.

Facing the back of Morat's bald head, revealing the outline of his skull, Tails felt more and more depressed.

Despite the glove, the inexplicable touch on my hands was uncomfortable - the vine-covered area was moist and warm, and there was a strange sticky feeling.

But Tails struggled to find a gap in the back of his chair where his hands could land, avoiding touching – even if it was difficult – the disgusting black vines, which made his exertion even more inconvenient.

"Is it alive, does it have a consciousness of its own?"

The Black Prophet did not look back:

"Are you alive?"

Tails frowned.

"Most people in the world are confused, and there is no difference between living and dying," Morat said indifferently:

"Does it matter if it's alive or not, whether it has a consciousness of its own?"

Tails sighed helplessly.

He had also pushed a wheelchair for Grivo, a veteran of Dragon City.

In fact, the night roads in the shield area are potholed and uneven, suffocating and difficult, and the old lame man in the north has been scolding and scolding for being unclean, which impresses the young man who asks for help and suffers enough.

But now, Tails would rather work and scold and push Grivoy's wheelchair for another year than spend even a second more with Morat.

"What the hell is this?"

"Oh, Your Highness," the Black Prophet shook his head and sneered silently:

"You've seen them. ”

More than once.

Tails let out a breath from his nose, as if he wanted to expel the other party's chattering words with the heart's worries.

"Raphael. ”

Tails twisted his head unnaturally, forcing himself not to look at the strange vines that shrank back and forth like breath in his wheelchair, and tried to find a topic to distract:

"Six years ago, his palm was obviously cut open, but it was intact, and he could still transmit sound thousands of miles and talk to you. ”

In the face of the Fire Knight, his sleeve was set on fire by the Rising Japanese Saber many times, and he always retreated in embarrassment. ”

"At Valhalla, my attendant has mentioned it suspiciously: it is as if he had seen his heart pierced. ”

The back of Morat's head is fixed and no longer rocks leisurely.

"And as the secret science of the night of the dragon's blood, he only behaves in one place and keeps to himself. ”

Tails' eyes condensed:

"The Temple of the Bright Moon. ”

The pace of their progress remained the same, and the road ahead remained dark.

Morat's reply changed slightly:

"So what?"

Tails' pace slowed slightly.

"Demons. ”

The vines on the wheelchair were still wriggling, changing angles from time to time and wrapping around the rest of the wheelchair in another position.

The Duke of Star Lake remembered what Saker had said, and said in a trance:

"Flesh feeds on flesh, soul hunts. ”

"Manifested in the fire, disillusioned before God. ”

Tails stared at the vines:

"It's the flesh and blood of the devil. ”

Morat tilted his head slightly, glancing at the prince.

Tails came back to his senses, remembered the identity of the other party, and vigilance crept into his mind.

He hurriedly added:

"I heard that when I was still in the North...... When being a hostage. ”

There was silence in the corridor for a while, except for the strange sound of black-veined vines, sometimes like flames crackling, sometimes like flowing water.

"Heh, you can always find the answer yourself. ”

Morat turned his head and smiled:

"As always. ”

"So, demons and hell," Tails ignored the other man's sarcasm:

"They exist, right here, in the secret department. ”

"And you've been developed, um," Tails glanced at Morat's disgusting wheelchair:

"Medical prosthetics?"

As if intrigued by Tails' words, Morat shook his head.

"It's not us, Your Highness, it's not us. ”

"We are only inheriting and emulating, far from being the first people in the world to covet the occult and taboo by any means. ”

Unscrupulous, coveting mysterious taboos.

Tails narrowed his eyes.

"Magic. ”

The prince said silently, regaining his pace to keep up with the faint footsteps ahead.

"It's the mage's legacy, isn't it?"

He sarcastically said:

"It seems that the kingdom's secret department is the rightful heir to the magic tower. ”

This time, Morat's words were cold:

"I thought Sacrifice Megan had alerted you, Your Highness. ”

Hearing the familiar name, Tails was slightly surprised:

"Metan Sacrifice - do you know her?"

The Black Prophet snorted coldly and did not answer his question:

"Believe me, Your Highness, magic is far less magical and interesting than it sounds, and it is fascinating—its magnificent appearance is on par with the sins it has caused. ”

"But you are comfortable inheriting the legacy of your predecessors," the prince continued, frowning, as he looked at the living creature wrapped in the wheelchair.

"Whether it's the prison of bones, the magic locks outside, or the ...... This one. ”

Morat shook his head:

"You may not have understood it yet. ”

"But I'll put it this way: Mycoe is like a lock that locks the door of the world to self-destruction. ”

He sighed slightly:

"Just like all the attachments in this world, if you go too far, you will eventually eat yourself if you pursue too deeply. ”

The pursuit is too deep.

Regurgitate itself.

Tails raised an eyebrow.

He suddenly remembered what the two teachers had mentioned to him, the three major covenants of the magician:

Don't dig into each other.

Be self-conscious.

With this in mind, he tentatively said:

"For example...... Magician?"

In that second, Tails was covered with goosebumps on his arms, and the sins of the Hellriver were surging wildly!

In the next instant, the vine on the wheelchair suddenly sped up and expanded slightly violently!

Frightened, Tails instinctively let go of his wheelchair and stopped.

Be on alert.

The figure of the Black Prophet trembled and rose in his wheelchair.

He let out a low, strange guttural sound, like dissatisfaction, like a contemplative instinct.

It's like an asthma patient.

Tyers frowned.

What the?

After a few minutes, the black vein vine regained its original form and became docile again.

"Are you okay?"

Tails asked tentatively.

Half an hour later, Morat, who seemed to be seriously ill, took a few breaths and said faintly: "I can't die." ”

For the time being.

"Keep walking, we're not there yet. ”

Tails put away his worries, put back on his wheelchair, and took a step.

"Take a closer look at this, Your Highness. ”

Morat said with a sigh of illness:

"Do you think it's something nice?"

"Our good neighbors in Hell are beyond imagination, and the difference is even more than the power of the end," the head of the secret department said in a weak tone:

"Even the flesh that was cut from them looked different. ”

Tails stared at the wriggling vines, even more suspicious.

"And this piece ......"

"It seems to be very energetic, adaptable to the host, and a surprise gift for doctors when they are helpless. ”

Morat's tone tightened:

"But it multiplies infinitely in the shadows, erodes the host, and is an unclean thing that the priests of the Church hate. ”

It's like this world, fascinating and deadly.

Tails was silent for a while.

"So it can help you get through it, but it will kill you?"

Morat smiled.

"Worse, child," said the Black Prophet, with a sigh of emotion:

"It's worse than that. ”

Tails subconsciously looked forward.

But Raphael's back has long since disappeared to the fore.

"Don't worry. ”

Morat, noticing Tails' gaze, snorted softly:

"He's not me, he's still young, he can handle it. ”

The Black Prophet's tone fell silent.

Still young and able to withstand it.

Tails frowned:

"Just to save his hands, which were abolished by Duke Arend?"

The Black Prophet silently looked at the black vines on his legs and shook his head:

"It saves more than his hands, the child. ”

The devil is always there, but the devil is silent.

For some reason, Tails suddenly remembered this sentence.

"The former Crown Prince Midier," the ghost sent the gods, and Tails suddenly remembered something:

"As the architect of the Dragon's Blood project, he once led the Secret Department, at least he worked with you, right?"

Morat looked up, his gaze sharp.

"Has he used it?"

Tails looked at the black-veined vines that tightly wrapped around the Black Prophet's legs:

"Use this thing to treat your crippled legs?"

This time the silence lasted for a long time.

"It's not that no one has suggested it. ”

It was rare for Morat to express his feelings, and said in a tone of remembrance of the deceased:

But His Highness Midil, he smiled and refused. He said......"

Morat stared at his wizened hands and looked at the vines on his legs:

"Without these legs, he can stand up and be a whole and sound person. ”

Tails' eyes lit up.

"It's him, thought-provoking. ”

He said sincerely.

"Of course. ”

Morat puffed up his chest and sighed:

"Most people don't have physical disabilities that need to be filled. ”

Looking at Morat like this, Tails suddenly had an illusion: under the state of vine wrapping, the weak and painful other party lost the terrible cloak of the Black Prophet and behaved like a sentimental ordinary old man.

Perhaps, in the face of such Morat, he can gain more.

His mind moved, and he patted the wheelchair, and the vines on it shook for a while:

"And how did you get this thing? Don't tell me you have a mine that goes straight to hell?"

Morat was silent for a moment.

Just when Tails thought he wasn't ready to answer.

"As agreed, the leader of the Blood Whistle should be standing here now, continuing to talk about our cooperation. ”

Morat sighed:

But alas, he missed the appointment. ”

Tails was stunned for a moment, then his eyes widened:

"You say...... Who?"

Morat eats and laughs.

"You know, kid," his frail body shuddered in his wheelchair:

"I can read minds. ”

Tails' expression changed.

Still coming to this set?

"Yes, I know Ricky, I know the Sword of Calamity, and I know you've been together for at least a few hours. The old man in the wheelchair said lightly.

Richie.

Thinking of the strange "Crassus" of the Sword of Calamity, Tails put away the surprise in his heart.

Moving on to our "cooperation".

Duke Starlake remembered Ricky's words in the dungeon:

[Our relationship with the Secret Branch of the Stars is closer than you think. 】

The Sword of Calamity and the Kingdom Secret Branch.

He just tried it, but it really ...... Asked for information?

"I thought you said, don't read minds today. ”

Tails leaned forward slightly, carefully observing the Black Prophet's expression.

No.

Tails knew in his heart:

"It's Nobu. ”

"It's him, he's come to report to you about the West Wilderness. ”

That's why he knew he had met Ricky.

Morat looked up and exchanged a glance with Tails.

"You're sharper than you were six years ago, Your Highness. ”

He said softly:

"Even the fear of me has been dispelled a lot. ”

"It's impressive. ”

Tails pursed his lips.

Yes.

And who typed the secret reports that King Kessel had in his hand about the prince's "self-assertion and audacity"?

But in the next moment, Morat asked softly.

"Your Highness, as a witness, can you explain my doubts? ”

"In Camp Bladefang, what made the mercenary Ricky break his promise, voluntarily give up his long-term cooperation with us, and leave everything behind?"

Long-term cooperation.

Tails captures the keyword.

His gaze fell on the wriggling vines of the wheelchair.

Demonic flesh.

For some reason, Tails suddenly remembered what Morat had just said about "the flesh that was cut off of them".

I see.

That's how they cooperated.

The words of the Black Prophet brought him back to reality:

"Did you know?"

Tails came back to his senses.

What made Ricky break his promise and fly away?

At that moment, he thought of Sakel at the bottom of the bone prison, of the edge of the pure world drawn on paper, and of the former king who was the enemy of the world......

No, I don't know.

Tails was tempted to answer.

But he couldn't.

Because he knows.

Tails remembered Yodel's reminder:

In the face of Morat, he can't lie.

"Yes. ”

Tails answered naturally, calmly and fluently:

"Williams. ”

"Legendary Wings used Ricky's mercenary group to cause chaos and retake Bladefang's camp, and then threatened him to go as far as he could. ”

"I guess he listened. ”

Williams.

Hearing the name, the Black Prophet's gaze froze, and he was silent for several seconds.

"Well, maybe. ”

Very good.

Looking at the other party's reaction, Tails said silently:

If Saab really opened the "vicious dog that bit someone's leg" bet......

Maybe he'll win the money.

"So the Sword of Calamity and the Kingdom Secret Branch are old friends?"

Determined to continue exploring, Tails endured the discomfort and tapped a little vine, which provoked the thing to shrink again:

"Ricky gave you these things?"

The black texture on Ricky's face, Raphael's arms, the Black Prophet's wheelchair.

It's not all.

The sword of calamity more than a hundred years ago, Crassus and the Red King, mercenaries and secret branches.

It's connected.

Morat was also silent for a while.

But this time, what he answered Tails was a sinister chuckle.

The second prince was a little flustered by laughter.

"I say, you have become sensitive, Your Highness. ”

"But it's still not cautious enough. ”

Tails was slightly stunned.

Not cautious enough.

What do you mean?

Morat put away his laughter and said abruptly:

"Raphael's report is quite right. ”

Tails felt bad:

"What report?"

Morat glanced at her and shook his head:

After six years of observation, he said......"

"When it comes to trouble, Prince Tails has the ability and the heart to collect information from multiple sources, combine intelligence, piece together clues, observe and think from different angles, and then according to your wild mind, go straight to the point and grasp the key points, and creatively give solutions that no one can think of. ”

"And yet ......"

His tone changed:

"You're too stubborn, too focused on the questions you're asking, and you don't have the prudence and rigor required for intelligence work, and you're inevitably misled by the logic of the story you've deduced, and you've missed the subtle but crucial details. ”

"For example, the country is a stunning appearance at the conference. ”

Tails breathlessed.

"You are also too emotional, too concerned about the essence of things, lacking the sleekness and comprehensiveness needed to deal with complex problems, and often making impulsive choices that are not understood by ordinary people because of their principles and ignoring the costs. ”

"For example, let go in Valhalla. ”

The Black Prophet narrowed his eyes:

"Even last night's standing up. ”

Tails only felt stiff in his arm pushing the wheelchair.

Why, why did he say this all of a sudden?

But the other party's words still came like a magic voice, and they couldn't stop it:

"So, you often act decisively to win back a city, and then end yourself up with unpredictable consequences. ”

"I guessed the beginning correctly, but missed the ending. ”

Lord Morat Hansen, the head of intelligence of the Kingdom Secret Section, the Black Prophet, said quietly:

"Commonly known: self-made cleverness. ”

"Stone-moving. ”

At this moment, Tails couldn't help but think of Raphael's group:

The prince's ass.

A wave of resentment welled up in my heart.

But at this moment, Morat gently picked up and turned the topic back to its place:

"I mentioned Ricky, and I only said we worked together, but I never said we were working together for this thing. ”

He looked at the black-veined vines that were stirring beneath him with disdain:

"But why did you confidently connect the clues, thinking that this thing must be from Ricky?"

The Black Prophet glanced at him leisurely:

"It seems that you already know what the leader of the Sword of Calamity is. ”

Tails figured out something, and suddenly lost his speech, his face turned pale.

Here's the problem: it's his most unrevealing secret, and he will never tell you when he introduces himself. ”

Morat is interested:

"So the next question will be: when the Prison of Bones was robbing and creating chaos, with Ricky's skills and the power of the bloody whistle, what kind of threat did he encounter......

"Will I be forced to show my hole cards in front of you and show my true identity?"

The Black Prophet looked coldly at the vines on his legs:

"So you can believe that this thing is from the same source as him?"

"Can you answer me?"

"Your Highness?"

Tails gritted his teeth and swallowed hard.

Damn it.

What happened to Ricky in the Prison of Bones to force him to reveal the true body of the demon?

Manifested in the fire, disillusioned before God.

The heavy but unstoppable figure of the Knight of Punishment came into view.

No.

The boy shook his head, forcing himself to pick himself up and answer Morat's question.

Don't lie, Tails.

Don't lie.

"Wings of Legend. ”

The prince tried to keep his voice steady:

He beat the daring Ricky to the brim—we all saw his face, like this thing, dug out of a black pit. ”

The Black Prophet was silent again.

"Very well, you're telling the truth," said the intelligence chief after a long moment:

"At least you think you're telling the truth. ”

Tails breathed a sigh of relief in his heart.

However, the next second.

"But, for the second time. ”

Morat's words revert to indifference:

"Wings of Legend. ”

"This is the second time you've used him to answer questions. ”

Tails' face changed slightly.

"It's as if you've identified this shield and you're sure he'll confirm your words. ”

The Black Prophet rubbed his thin wrist and muttered:

"It's a coincidence that both times it's related to him?"

Tails pursed his lips.

"Or, Your Highness, you don't want to say much about Ricky's situation when he revealed his true identity, and you are very secretive about what happened in the prison of bones, and would rather send a difficult and annoying do-good person like me to ask Williams, and throw the details of the trouble to the murderous god who is not approachable?"

What happened in the prison of bones.

At that moment, Tails heard his own breathing.

The black-veined vines in the wheelchair began the next round of surging, making Tails more and more uncomfortable.

But he didn't have time to care about it.

"If I want to guess, maybe you have some kind of tacit understanding with the Legendary Wings, to cover up something, something that will force Ricky to reveal his true identity, and even make him turn his back on his relationship with the secret department......"

The Black Prophet mused:

"Is it the Shadow Shield?"

"Or is it the reason why the Darkroom came all the way to Bladetooth Camp?"

At that moment, the figure of the hammer and the fast rope flashed in front of Tails' eyes, almost making him tense all over.

No, fast rope......

But Morat shook his head:

"No, you're using the Wings of Legend as an excuse, and the person who can force Ricky to reveal his true identity is at least a ...... of the same magnitude as him."

Finally, as Tails was shocked, the Black Prophet let go of his knotted brow and exhaled, ending his speculation.

"So, I haven't seen ...... for more than ten years"

At that moment, Morat looked at Tails calmly and calmly:

"Our dear Guard of the Guard, Lord Sakel, is he all right?"

At that moment, Tails only felt chills all over his body.

"As for the Bone Prison Prisoners who escaped from prison and were executed by Williams in the official announcement," the Black Prophet looked at him with interest, as if he were a prey in the middle of it:

"Although the rebellious Baron Bladetooth didn't give a specific list, I guess ......"

"It must include some of the former royal guards who collaborated with the enemy in the Year of Blood, right? ”

The Black Prophet spoke softly, and every word seemed to be poisonous:

"So they weren't executed. ”

"Instead, it was let go by you and Williams. ”

"The mercenary Ricky is a witness. ”

Tails didn't know what to think about anymore.

He's just...... One more sentence to say.

But the other party can ......

"Look? That's what we call ......."

Morat chuckled and tapped his fingers on the wheelchair.

"Be smart. ”

"Stone-moving. ”

Tails stiffened his wheelchair and came to his senses.

I was wrong.

Miss by a mile.

The prince's eyes froze in the void.

It's like he doesn't have to be a king to make Williams look good.

Even if Morat is in a wheelchair, he will not be long dead.

But he is still the master of the secret department, and is the head of the royal intelligence of King Kessel.

It's the ...... of the whole kingdom

Black Prophet.

"So, Your Excellency Duke Xinghu, as the heir to the throne, what do you want to do with this group of collaborators who are sensitive in their identities, have extraordinary skills, and are well versed in the secrets of the palace?"

At that moment, Morat was slow and methodical, like a poisonous snake spitting out a letter:

"What would your father think if he knew?"