Chapter 39 Chapter Eleven Saryon's Turn

"Listen, Saryon," said Joram in a low, persuasive tone. "It's simple." Sitting next to the Catalyst Saint, he crept closer and put his hand on his arm. "You go to Heisuo and tell him you can't rest, you can't sleep, you're so disgusted with what I've done and what I've forced you to do, so you think you're going crazy." "I'm not very good at lying." Saryon shook his head and murmured. "That's not a lie, is it?" Joram asked, a half-bittered smile flashing across his dark eyes. "On the contrary, I think you will be very convincing."

The Catalyst Saint didn't answer, nor did he lift his gaze from the table where the two were sitting.An almost obnoxiously fat moon grinned grinningly in the clear dark sky, and the moonlight through the window sucked all the color and life into its swollen cheeks, making everything appear desolate and bloodless. off-white.Bathed in the moonlight, the two sat close together at the table under the window, talking in a low voice. Joram's wary eyes wandered between the guard in the house across the street and Mosiah, who was restlessly sleeping in a hammock in a dark corner. between. At the sound of speaking, Mosiah rolled over and muttered something in his sleep, which caused Joram to grab the catalyst saint's arm in silence and panic.Neither said a word until Mosiah was safely asleep again, throwing his arms over his eyes in his sleep.Moonlight crept across the floor, climbed into the hammock to examine and gazed greedily at his pale face.

"Then what should I do?" Saryon asked. "Tell him you'll hand me over to him, that you'll help him catch me, and—" Joram lowered his voice. "Darkblade, you will take him to the furnace, and I will work there, and there we will finish him." Saryon closed his eyes, trembling all over. "What do you mean, get rid of him?" "What do you think I mean, Catalyst Saint?" Joram pulled his hand away impatiently, leaning back on his chair, watching the guards again, their shadows more obvious against the background of the blazing flames in the opposite room . "We've discussed this before, as soon as his magic is drained, he becomes powerless. You can open a portal and call the Dukes, no doubt they will be eager Waited for years, hoping to catch the disgrace of the sect." He shrugged. "You will become a hero, Catalyst Saint."

Saryon sighed, fisting his hands on the table, his fingers digging into his flesh. "And you?" he asked Joram, turning his gaze to the young man, whose stern face looked almost skeletal in the moonlight. "How am I?" Joram asked coldly, looking out of the window with a half-smile playing on his lips. "A teleportation corridor will open, Duke Xisi will come here, and I can hand you over to them, just like my superiors instructed me." "But you won't, will you, Saryon?" Joram didn't even look at him.Mosiah groaned in the corner, turning over from time to time, trying to escape from the moon's gleeful gaze. "You won't, I gave you the black lock, so you will set me free. You don't need to be afraid of me, catalyst saint, I'm not as ambitious as the black lock, I don't want to use my power to rule the world, I just want to get back what belongs to me. I will go to Merilon, and with the help of this long sword I made myself, I will get what I want!"

Saryon watched him and saw that the young man's face softened for a moment, like the longing and eagerness of a child looking at some small shiny, jewel-studded toy.Compassion surged in the Catalyst Saint, and he recalled hearing dark stories about Joram's childhood, about his mother who had gone mad.He thought of the hard times the young man had gone through, always struggling to survive, and having to hide the fact that he was truly a living dead.Saryon also knew what it was like to be helpless in a world full of mages.Memories came back, longing to harness the wings of the wind, to create beauty and wonder at the flick of a finger, to shape stones into elegant and useful towers... Now that Joram had the power, he could only But this power is reversed, he has the power of destruction, not the power of creation, and he wants to use this to achieve a childhood dream.

"You will be a hero without a doubt." Joram's voice came to Saryon's ears like a dream. "You can go back to the holy mountain, go back there, kneel and crawl before that big rock, and I think you'll be forgiven for not bringing me back for trial, and they can try to arrest me in Merilon, if they If you dare..." Qiao Lang was silent for a while, and then he returned to reality, his original eager and childish face became cold, and he changed back to the demon craftsman who killed the supervisor with a stone. "While the sorcerer is in the furnace, I'll hit him with the dark sword and drain his magic—"

"You wish," retorted Saryon, angry at the young man he suddenly found himself caring about. "You have only the faintest idea of ​​the sword's power, and you know nothing of how to wield such a weapon." "I don't need to be skilled in swordsmanship," said Joram angrily. "After all, we are not trying to kill him. When I attack and the Dark Sword absorbs his magic, you must attack at the same time and absorb his life force." Saryon shook his head. "That's too dangerous, I've never had this kind of training..." "You have no other choice, Catalyst Saint!" said Joram, gritting his teeth and grabbing Saryon's arm again. "Sin'jin says Blacklock has found the Crucible! If he doesn't know the Darkstone yet, he will soon. Do you want to make him the Darksword?"

The catalyst saint covered his face with trembling hands.Joram let go of his arm slowly, sat back in the chair, and nodded with satisfaction. "How do we get out of here?" Saryon asked, raising a haggard face and looking around the cell. "Run to the guards and tell them that you are asleep. When you wake up, you will find that I am missing. Ask them to take you to meet Heisuo. I will sneak out while I'm in trouble." "But how are you going to sneak out? They'll be looking for you everywhere! This—" "That's my problem, Catalyst Saint." Joran said coldly. "Just worry about that part of you, delay Heisuo as long as you can, and give me time to get there."

"Delay! What am I going to—" "Passed out! Fell sick on him! I don't know! It shouldn't be too difficult, anyway, you can definitely do these two things now." Qiao Lang gave the Catalyst Saint a stern look, stood up and began to walk around The room was constantly pacing back and forth. "I am not so weak as you think, young man," Saryon said softly. "I shouldn't have promised to help you bring this dark weapon into the world, and yet I did, and now I must take responsibility for what I did. Tonight I will do what you say , I will help bring this evil wizard to justice, but not because I will be a hero, nor because it will allow me to go back." Saryon was silent for a while, then, taking a long breath, Continued: "I will never be able to go back, and I now know that there is nothing there that can make me nostalgic."

Joram stopped and stared at Saryon silently and steadily. "And then you'll let me go..." "Yes, but not because I'm afraid of you or your sword." "Why is that?" Joram asked, with a slight sneer. "Exactly," murmured Saryon. "Why? I always ask myself this question, and I can tell you... many reasons, because our lives have been connected in some strange way, since when I first met you , you know that, because it goes back to my life before you were born, and I can tell you that." He shook his head. "I can tell you about a druid who tutored me, I can tell you about a little baby I held... for some unknown reason it all seems to be connected and it doesn't make sense , I can already see that you don't believe it at all."

"It doesn't matter at all whether I believe it or not. I don't want to know your reasons at all, Catalyst Saint, as long as you do what I say." "I will, but on one condition." "Ah, now we're getting to the point." Joram said with a frown. "What provisos? Shall I turn myself in? Or continue to stay in this remote wilderness—" "My condition is that you take me with you," Saryon whispered. "What?" Joram stared at the Catalyst Saint in surprise.Then, nodding to himself, he let out a brief, obnoxious laugh. "Of course, I know, every living dead always needs an exclusive catalyst saint." He shrugged and almost smiled. "Of course, come with me to Merilon and we can have a good time together, just like our friend Simkin said. Well, are we ready to do it?" Joram moved carefully and silently so as not to wake Mosiah, turned his back on the stupefied Catalyst Saint, and walked through the cramped room.He squatted beside the bed, and then slowly and reverently drew out the Dark Sword. Saryon looked at him blankly and silently, expecting anger or rejection, thinking that he would have to stand his ground, resist arguments, even threats, and this nonchalant, nonchalant acceptance was in some ways worse, maybe Young people don't understand yet... Joram was carefully wrapping the sword in a rag.Saryon came up behind him and put his hand on the young man's shoulder. "I won't hand you over, I just want to help you, you know, you can't go back, you can't go back to Merilon—" "Listen, Catalyst Saint," said Joram, standing up, throwing Saryon's touch angrily away. "I've already said, I don't care what you want to do or where you want to go, as long as you help me accomplish this. Got it? Very good." He looked down at the long sword wrapped around his hands.The white light reflected by the moonlight on the rags made the bone-like slender sword wrapped inside appear darker and more obvious.The image of the baby living dead wrapped in the royal white cloth returned to Saryon's mind, and he closed his eyes and turned away. Seeing the reaction of the catalyst saint, Joram pursed his lips. "If the sermon is over, Father—" The bitterness in the words made Saryon flinch. "It's time for us to go, I want to get this done quickly." Joram thrust the longsword through a rough imitation of a homemade leather belt worn at his waist, modeled after a tome.He casually threw a long and pitch-black cloak provided by Simkin over his shoulders, walked past the cell, looked down at himself critically.With the longsword hidden, he nodded, turned to Saryon, and waved brutally. "Come on. I'm ready." what about me?Saryon asked himself painfully.He wanted to say something, but couldn't speak.He then coughed, trying to clear his throat.It was of no use, and he would never be able to swallow the fear.Joram's face darkened, frowning at the delay, and Saryon could see the muscles in the young man's jaw stiffen.One of his eyes was twitching, and his hands, hanging straight at his sides, clenched and let go nervously, but both eyes shone brighter than moonlight, not only brighter, but more colorful. No, there is nothing more to say, nothing to say at all. Saryon stretched out trembling hands and opened the door carefully and silently, every nerve, every part of his body was telling him he'd better turn around, say no, stay in this room, but the accumulated momentum of his past life Surrounding him like a big wave, rising and falling into the wave.Roll him forward, and he has no choice but to ride up, even though he can clearly see sharp stones looming dimly in the shadows before him.