Holy City, Vatican. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 info

The nameless chapel, under the deep black prison, is perennially filled with a mournful cry, moaning, screaming, howling......

Two black-robed men walked in this long, dim yellow candlelit tunnel, walked past the rusty and bloodstained iron doors, walked past the walls with nail scratches, walked past a creepy scream, and came to a slightly newer iron door.

"Squeak"

With a tooth-aching grinding sound, the iron door was pushed open by the black-robed man.

The room behind the iron door was small and simply furnished, with only a wooden cross nailed to the wall in the middle of the room.

And a sturdy dark figure was kneeling in front of the cross, his upper body was naked, but the steel thorn chains were firmly strangled on him, and the sharp spikes were firmly driven into his flesh, nailing out terrible blood holes, and the blood flowing from the wound had already scabbed, and the fine blood scabs covered his entire upper body.

But there was no pain on his face, only a faint calm, as if he was being tortured, and it was not him who was suffering.

Even when the door was opened and someone walked into the room, his expression did not change a bit, and he still knelt in front of the cross like a stone statue, silently.

"Clark! That's enough! it's not your fault this time!" the old voice came from the black robe, with a hint of anger.

"No, that's my fault! If I could destroy the revolutionaries in Paris, there would be no revolutionary army, and our plan would not have failed! It was my sin!" the dark-skinned man kneeled in a hoarse and weak voice, but very persistent.

"No, it's just a failure, a small setback, the Lord will forgive you, the Lord will have mercy on you, you shouldn't be defeated by such a setback!" the old man's voice became kind and warm.

"Will the Lord really have mercy on me?" said the black judge's voice with some disbelief.

"Yes, even the All-Powerful Lord suffered numerous failures and setbacks when He was a mortal. The Lord is loving, especially to His servants, to His believers. He will understand you, have mercy on you, and forgive you. The old man's voice was softer.

"Really, will the Lord really have mercy on me?" the black inquisitor turned his head, tears streaming down his face.

"Yes, the Lord will have mercy on you and forgive you. Lord, I still need you!" the old man's voice was encouraging.

"The Lord still needs me?" the black inquisitor muttered.

"Yes, you are the Judge, the Lord's blade, the Lord's iron fist, the Lord's sword that cuts through the darkness!

"I am the sword of the Lord, and I am going to destroy the darkness?" the black inquisitor repeated slowly, his eyes confused.

"Wake up, Clark!" the old man's voice suddenly exploded, and he snapped his fingers again: "Smack!"

The black man's eyes instantly cleared, he stood up, stroked his chest and said respectfully: "Thank you, teacher, thank you for enlightening me, awakening me, and letting me no longer sink." ”

The old man exhaled slowly, calming down the boiling internal force in his body, and then said solemnly: "Clark, you are my disciple, a failure does not mean anything, I know better than anyone else your piety, your sacrifice and dedication, you should cheer up and clear the darkness for the Lord!

"Ahh

Then he ignored the blood gushing out of his body and fell to one knee: "I am the sword of the Lord, I will sweep away the darkness! ”

The old man nodded with satisfaction: "This is my disciple, but this time the task is very arduous, and it is very likely that he will die, in this case, are you still willing to take it?"

"Glorious death, return to heaven, return to the arms of the Lord, is my ultimate request!" the bloodied black judge still insisted.

"Well, the continent hasn't been peaceful lately, werewolves, bloods, skeletons, witches, and a few others are all ready to move. And your mission is still related to those werewolves, according to our intelligence, this time, whether it is the Luna Cult or the Daily Sect, there is a large-scale migration phenomenon. Villages are constantly being attacked, and almost all of them are slaughtered. There are no less than dozens of incidents reported to the Holy City. Based on these events, it is speculated that they are constantly migrating and congregating towards the north of the continent. We suspect it may have something to do with the legendary 'Griffin Sacrifice'. So, just in case, we have to send someone to take a look and see what the hell is going on. The old man's tone was heavy.

"Griffin's Sacrifice? What is that?" the black inquisitor was puzzled.

"This explanation is very complicated, you wait to treat the wound first, and then go to the classic library to call the relevant information, and then you will understand. The old man said.

"And my mission this time is to probe and gather intelligence?" confirmed the black inquisitor.

"Not only that, but if it is an obstacle to our Holy See, or to the cause of the Lord, then find a way to destroy it!" the old man explained.

"Sabotage...... the black man's brows furrowed suddenly: "If the two werewolves of the Sun-Seeking Sect and the Luna God Sect really have the possibility of uniting and merging this time, they really need to be destroyed, but with my strength, such a major task, I, I'm afraid ......"

"Of course it's not just you, he's going to be him, my old friend, the new Grand Inquisitor among us. The old man smiled and pointed to the black-robed man behind him.

"Clark, long time no see. "The cloak was taken off, and it was an old man with white hair and a kind face, it was Richelieu, the former Patriarch of France!

"What, you ......" Clarke's mouth opened wide.

"If you fail, you will have to pay some price, and in the future, I will be a member of the Inquisition, and we will be colleagues now. Richelieu, the Grand Inquisitor, smiled.

"But, but you, don't you blame me?" Clark still couldn't believe it.

"It's come to this, what's the use of blaming you. I'm getting older, and in my last days, I want to use some of my spare energy to clear some darkness and destroy some enemies for the Holy Sect, so that I can make up for it. Richelieu, the Grand Inquisitor, spoke in a calm tone, with a bit of ease.

"But this time the task is not simple, this battle may be ......" Clark hesitated.

"Alas, don't worry, I'm also a martial saint, although I haven't really done it for many years, but after all, I am an ascetic, and the nine-style Moses staff method has never fallen for a day. Okay, let's go together, go to Notre Dame first, heal your wounds, get some good medicine, and get ready. Alas, I haven't walked on the mainland for a long time, and I can't imagine that there will be such an opportunity in my lifetime. Richelieu, the Grand Inquisitor, said with gratitude with memories of the past.