Chapter 40 Chapter 12 The King with the Sword
Heisuo put his clasped hands on the desk in front of him. "So, Father, you have suffered greatly after committing this evil crime, and you are afraid that you will be forced to commit other crimes afterwards. After committing such a heinous crime, so dark, banned by your own order After centuries of evil, you find it the only option?"
"I admit I didn't think clearly before," murmured Saryon, discouraged by the wizard's stark presentation of the facts. "I—I'm a scholar...this life scares me and...and confuses me."
"But you are no longer confused." Heisuo said sarcastically. "Afraid but not confused, you will give me the Dark Sword and Joram."
"The sword must be destroyed," Saryon interrupted. "Otherwise I can't bear all this."
"Of course." Heisuo replied with a slight shrug, as if they were just discussing a cracked ale glass instead of a long sword that could give him the power to rule the world.He must have taken me for a fool.Saryon thought bitterly.Heisuo clasped his hands together in front of him. "So, as for the boy..."
"He must be handed over to Bishop Vanya," Saryon said hoarsely.
"So, what Xin Jin said is not wrong at all." Heisuo said. "This is the real reason you were sent to this witch cult."
"Yes." Saryon swallowed.
"I hope you have faith in me," said the wizard, pointing at the Catalyst Saint with two forefingers combined to form a small sword. "Your life could have been much simpler, priest, your Vanya bishop must be a fool." He murmured, a thin line raised on his forehead, and his eyes were fixed on a dark corner. "That's why I thought that a scholar like you could deal with a murderer like Joran..."
"Are you sure he will be taken to the Holy Mountain?" Saryon pressed, blushing. "I can't do it on my own, because... for an obvious reason, I believe you're still in touch with the people at Duke's—"
"That's right! I can arrange that." Heisuo interrupted. "You mentioned 'for obvious reasons.' I presume you mean that you dare not go back to church. What are you going to do, Father?"
"I should surrender to Bishop Vanya," Saryon replied, knowing what awaited him.He looked down at his shoes. "I have committed a very serious crime and I deserve to be punished."
"Petrification, Father. A horrible... way of life, I know. Like I told you, I've seen the execution, and it will be your punishment for helping create the Dark Sword, of course you It's a pity to know this already." Heisuo said, combing his golden beard with his fingers. "what a pity."
Saryon trembled.Yes, that would be his punishment, could he face it?Live forever with the knowledge you have researched?No, if things turn out like this, there's always a way to get it over with, for example: nymphs.
"No matter what, you may be forgiven and regarded as a kind of hero..."
Saryon shook his head.
"Ah, that's the second mistake you made, I forgot. So, your options include immortality in some most horrible form, or staying here with the witches, And willing to commit more immoral acts." Heisuo raised his finger slightly, pointing at Saryon's heart. "Of course, there is another option."
Saryon quickly raised his head, seeing Hei Suo's meaning clearly written on his cold face and unblinking eyes, the Catalyst Saint swallowed again, his mouth full of bitterness.The way this man was able to see the thoughts in his head was just uncanny, uncanny, and frightening.
"The most... the last is not an option at all," Saryon said, moving uneasily. "Suicide is an unforgivable crime."
"It's not like helping me rob and loot, or helping Joran create a weapon that can destroy the world." Heisuo said with a sneer.His hands are open and outstretched, palms down on the desk. "I admire you catalyst saints for your neat and clean way of thinking. It usually works for me anyway, so what can I complain about?"
Saryon, sweating beneath his robes, found it best not to answer.Things were going smoothly, almost too smoothly.Perhaps as Joram said, he doesn't need to lie, well, it should be said that he doesn't need to lie too much. Suicide is an unforgivable sin only for those who believe in God.
"Where is that young man?" Heisuo stood up.
Saryon stood up too, thanking the swinging robes for covering his trembling legs. "At...at the furnace," he said weakly.
Tonight there is no flame in the furnace, and a faint flickering red light comes from the coal pile, but it is the pale, cold gleam of the sinking moon, touching the light of the blade of a long sword, whose face is full of hammer blows. The concave hole of the sword, the blade is sharp, but irregular and uneven. The longsword was the first thing Saryon and Blacklock saw when they emerged into the dark, moonlit forge, and the weapon lay atop the anvil, snug in the moonlight like a wicked viper. Saryon knew that Blacklock saw it too, and though he couldn't see the wizard's face hidden in the shadow of his black hood, he could still tell by the sharp inhalation that showed that even the disciplined Dukexis , at this time can not show calm.The law enforcement officer's clasped hands trembled, his fingers twitched, eager to touch, but he controlled himself again.Every sense of his was on alert, and his mind touched outward into the shadows, searching for his prey. Saryon searched Joram nonchalantly.The Catalyst Saint thought he would be immobilized by fear, his hands had been shaking since he left Heisuo's house, and he could hardly open the transmission channel to the Witcher.But here he is now, and his fear is gone, leaving a cold, clear void. Standing in front of the furnace, Saryon looked around at the place where he might die in the next minute, feeling that everything in the world suddenly filled the void, as if he was living every second of his life separately; His heartbeat jumped from one second to another, and every second made him concentrate and immerse himself in it.He looked around and listened to all directions, and in that second, he knew everything that happened nearby.Then he skips to the next second, and the strangest thing is that none of this makes any sense to him, he separates himself and becomes an observer, watching his body play its role in this deadly game. roles played.Heisuo could cut off his hands now, separate them from the wrists, but he wouldn't cry out, and he wouldn't feel anything.He could almost see himself standing in the moonlit darkness, staring calmly at the dripping blood. So this is courage.he thought.Watching a hand glowing white in the moonlight, reaching out from the shadows, silently grabbing the hilt of the sword. There was silence all around, save for the slightest movement.Of course, even if Saryon hadn't looked directly at the sword, he would never have noticed that Joram was moving with the skill and virtuosity his mother had taught him in childhood, yet Duke Xis had been trained to hear the night fall behind them. The black lock reacted so quickly that Saryon only saw a black whirlwind rushing into the furnace, splashing sparks in the coal pile.With one action and one spell, the sorcerer casts a spell that renders his opponent unable to move or react, or even think, a spell that sucks mana, sucks life force. But Joram has no life force. Saryon almost laughed, so nervous when the magic spell dealt what should have been a devastating blow to the young man, but then it fell around Joram like so many rose petals.Joram's pale hand continued to raise the long sword. The metal did not shine, it was a blackness that cut off the moonlight, like the night entity he held in his hand. Joram stepped into the light and raised the sword before the black lock, his face tensed and weary, his eyes blacker than metal.Saryon could sense the fear and uncertainty of the young man, and beyond all the research he had done, Joram had only the vaguest idea of the power of metal.But for the first time, the Catalyst Saint felt that all his senses were alive and extremely sensitive. Maybe he was reborn at this moment, and he could also feel the uncertainty, surprise, and growing fear of Heizuo. How much does Duke Xis know about the Dark Stone?Perhaps no more than Joland.What was going through the sorcerer's mind, did this long sword block his magic purge?Does it also block other spells?Heisuo had to make a decision in the split second of his next move, because he knew that his life might depend on this blow. Calmly Dukexis chose his spell and cast it, his eyes glowing green, and instantly a cloud of green liquid gathered from the air on Joram's skin and began to hiss and bubble.Cuibi is highly poisonous, this is the name of the spell.Recognizing the spell, Saryon flinched, his stomach constricting.The pain was unbearable.He'd heard it so, and like every nerve ending a little on fire, any mage powerful enough to block the purge spell was sure to fall victim and paralyzed by the poisonous magic, and he couldn't protect himself from both at the same time. attacker's attack. And it obviously affects both the living dead and the living with life force.Joram's face contorted with pain, and he gasped and began to bend, the liquid spreading, burning flesh to the touch, but it was a spell that drained a mage's power quickly. "Give me the power of life, Catalyst Saint!" Heisuo ordered, his eyes glowing brighter green as he stared at the young man. The time has come.Saryon knew this.It was time for me to make a choice, and I was Joram's only choice, and without me he would surely fall; even if the Dark Stone had done it, he would not be able to control the sword.The Catalyst Saint cast a quick glance at the weapon, and a shiver of ecstasy swept across him.Joram's body glowed green, and the young man screamed in pain, and he fell to the floor as the poison ran through him, his hands still gripping the longsword.His hands were not covered in the deadly liquid, the poison began to disappear from Joram's arms and upper body as Saryon watched, the dark sword absorbing the magic. It was absorbed so slowly, however, that within seconds Joram would have died, his body reduced to a mass of twitching, writhing mass on the sandy floor of the furnace. Saryon began chanting ancient spells, spells he'd learned seventeen years ago as a deacon; spells he'd never used, spells he thought he'd never use... He began to suck the life force of Heisuo. A very dangerous move, which is usually practiced only in war; a Catalyst would try to weaken an opponent by doing so, and instead of shutting down the transmission channel, the Catalyst would cut off the life force to a mage supply, they instead keep the transmission channels open and reverse the flow of life force.This move is dangerous because the wizard will immediately feel the life force begin to overflow from him, and unless distracted, they can fight back against the catalyst saint and reduce him to dust. Saryon knew the danger he was in, but he did not flinch when the black lock's angry roar cut through the darkness.Green eyes turned their venomous pain on him.Even watching my fingertips start to turn green and feeling the first tingles of pain start to dance up my arm, my courage remains unabated. "Joram!" he roared. "help me!" The young man fell to his knees and sobbed, and Heisuo's attention was diverted.The sword began to absorb the magic, and the poison faded from his flesh, albeit slowly.Hearing Saryon's roar, Joram raised his head, gritted his teeth and tried to stand up, but he was too weak to stand on his own, and there was nothing around him to lean on.Finally, he plunged the tip of the sword into the sandy ground of the furnace, grabbed the hilt and stood up slowly. "Joran!" The poison gnawed into Saryon's body, and the catalyst saint cursed himself.In all his rational thinking, he should have foreseen this!He draws life force from the sorcerer, but he has nowhere to use it!On the battlefield, he will have a fellow wizard, he can give this life force to his partner, and then the partner can use this power to strengthen himself and repel the enemy, but the catalyst saint cannot give the life force Given to Joram, he couldn't do him any favors. Then Saryon saw the longsword. It stood on the ground, its arms outstretched, like a man begging for help, black and dull metal.It is a dark creation, it is darkness, like a man begging for help. A feeling of shock and fear hit Saryon, paralyzed and slowly spreading to the whole body, with increasingly severe pain.The reason for the slowness was that until now he was still drawing the life force of the sorcerer, and at the same time he could feel that the man was getting weaker and weaker. I cannot give Joram the power of life, but I can give this long sword the power of life. Closing his eyes, Saryon looked away from the dark, hideous simulacrum that seemed to be wrapping its stiff arms around him.I can give up, my pain is coming to an end. obedience to life... He saw the flames of the village burning before him, the young deacon falling dead on the ground, and Simkin playing cards with no face or color. Fate be tame... Saryon opened his eyes and saw Joram draw the sword from the ground and hold it high above his head, but in Saryon's mind the young man was like a shadow in the moonlight, and he really saw and focused Attention is still the long sword.He reached out to it, fingers twitching violently in pain, and Saryon opened the transmission channel to the cold, lifeless metal. The magic swept over him like a gust of wind, with such force that he staggered backwards and fell.The pain suddenly stopped, the fluid on his skin disappeared, and the long sword glowed bright white and blue.After a burst of inarticulate roars, Heisuo fell to the ground. The combined power of the long sword and the catalyst saint absorbed all the magic in his body, and now he was nothing more than an empty human stinky skin. The sword fell to the ground, shaking him violently with unexpected force, and Joram dropped the weapon and stood gazing at it in amazement.The long sword was lying on the ground humming non-stop, the sound was strange, almost like a sharp roar of pleasure.He turned and looked from the sword to the helpless sorcerer.Heisuo roared angrily, struggling tirelessly, trying to regain control of his limbs, but to no avail.Weakened from exerting all his magical powers, he was now completely drained of life force, and the sorcerer flopped in the dust like a fish out of water. Terrified by the sight, Saryon turned and leaned on a work bench.Slowly he understood that it was all over. "I'll open a portal," he said, without looking at Joram.He couldn't face the sight of the sorcerer lying helpless on the ground, without all human dignity, and hearing his staccato voice and the pathetic shock of it was bad enough. "The life force from him is enough for me to do this, I'll put him in the portal and shut it down before the law enforcement understand what's going on. I don't think anyone else will Will come back here again, they'd rather avoid this place, plus they caught the black lock again, I'm sure they'll let the demon artisans live in peace. Even so, you'd better leave, just in case -" He was interrupted by a scream, a scream of rage and terror that turned into a piercing scream of anguish, then a whimper, and faded into a horrible, choking cluck. His soul was torn apart by the terrifying sound.Saryon turned around. Hei Suo lay dead on the ground, his eyes staring into the night sky, his mouth open, and the scream still seemed to be echoing in Saryon's mind.Joram stood above the wizard, his face pale in the moonlight, his eyes empty and dark.Holding the Dark Sword in his hand, the blade pierced the sorcerer's chest, and he pulled it out forcefully, and Saryon saw the black light of blood on the Dark Sword. Saryon could not speak a word, the man's dying screams still screaming in his ears, and he could only watch Joram, trying to hold back the horrific screams until he could think. "Why?" The Catalyst Saint finally whispered. Joram looked up at him, and Saryon saw the hidden smile again in those dark eyes. "He's about to attack you, Catalyst Saint." The young man replied coldly. "I stopped him." A scene of a helpless and slumped body vividly appeared in Saryon's mind, a burning liquid suddenly rushed into his throat, and he felt nauseous, and immediately replaced the scene of death with the scene at his feet floor. "You're lying! That's impossible!" he squeezed the words through clenched teeth. "There, Catalyst Saint," Joram said sarcastically.He stepped over the body, picked up the rags from the floor, and began wiping the blood from the blade. "It's all over, you don't have to pretend to play games anymore." Did he hear wrong?Saryon seemed to hear nothing but the scream. "Game?" he finally asked. "What game? I don't understand what you mean..." "Emin's blood! Who do you think I am? Mosiah!" Joram laughed, but it sounded like a howl, bitter and hoarse. "As if I'd believe all that pious nonsense." He raised his voice, muttering a parody of Saryon. "'I'm going to open a portal. Stay away...' Ha!" Joram dropped the blood-stained rag on the ground, and placed the longsword carefully on it. "Do you think I will be fooled by those words? I know your plan, as long as you open that teleportation corridor—" "No! You are wrong!" Startled by Saryon's impassioned roar, Joram turned his shoulders and fixed his gaze on the faces of the Catalyst Saints. "Well, from all appearances, I believe you mean it," he said slowly, eyeing Saryon in surprise. The catalyst saint didn't answer, he collapsed on the workbench, curled up in his robe, closed his eyes and began to tremble.It seemed that the dead wizard was able to avenge his sword, and his screams drained the vitality from Saryon's body, just as effectively as the catalyst saint sucked the magic power of the wizard.Nauseous, cold, disgusted and disgusted with himself and the young man at the same time, if Saryon believed in Emin enough for him to pray for one last request, he would rather be able to die. He heard Joram's steps across the sand, and felt the young man behind him. "You mean it," repeated Joram. "Yes." Saryon said wearily. "I'm serious." "You saved my life," continued Joram in a low voice. "You risked your own life to save me, I know, I saw..." Saryon felt the touch on his shoulder, startled, and looked back to see Joram's hand resting awkwardly there.He could see the face clearly in the fading moonlight, his dark eyes hidden by a strand of thick, jet-black hair.For a split second, with eagerness and longing in those eyes, the Catalyst Saint knew the truth now, as he had always known. Saryon's heart whispered to him: Years ago, I held this child in my arms! He raised his hand and took hold of Joram's, but as he did so the hand on his shoulder pulled away. "Why?" Joram asked. "What do you want from me?" Saryon watched the young man for a moment, then smiled wearily. "I ask nothing of you, Joram." "So, what's your reason for doing this, Catalyst Saint? Don't try to get me with those sweet and cute holy molasses bullshit that's only for people like Mosiah, I know you , you must have a motive." "I told you." Saryon said softly, turning his gaze to the weapon lying on the ground like another dead body. "It is my duty, part of my duty, to bring this .Saryon turned his gaze from the sword back to the sorcerer. "I failed, it's bloody now, it's killed—" "I made it splatter blood! I killed people!" Joran roared, standing in front of the Catalyst Saints. "The Dark Sword is just a tool in my hand, stop talking like this damn thing has more lives than me!" Saryon didn't answer, staggering with fatigue, hesitantly crossing the sands of the furnace, kneeling beside Blacklock's body.He clenched his teeth, suppressed a wave of nausea, and looked away from the horrible wound on his chest.He stretched out his hand and smoothed the eyes that were staring straight at him with fear and surprise; he tried his best to close the open jaw, so that his face showed a little bit of calm.He raised his cold hands and began to fold his arms over his chest in the traditional way, but found that he couldn't do it when the nausea overwhelmed him.He let his hands drop, turned away immediately, and collapsed on the workbench, shaking with cold sweat. "I'll drag the body into the woods," said Joram. Saryon heard a rustling, and looked back to see the young man covering his face with the wizard's hood, and wrapping the man's robes around his body. "When they find him, they'll think the centaur killed him." A Duke Sis?Saryon thought, but he didn't say anything, he didn't care about anything anyway.He looked out longingly, half expecting to see dawn light up along the horizon.But the moon had only just set, and it was only the darkest hour of the night.He wanted his bed, though it was cold and hard; he wanted to lie down, cover his head with his robe, and maybe... just maybe... the sleep that had been hiding from him at night would be able to sneak up on him around, and then for a certain period of time he can forget everything. "Listen to me, Catalyst Saint!" Joram's voice was harsh. "Besides you and me, the only other person who knows the Dark Sword is dead—" "So that's why you killed him." Joram ignored him. "This situation must continue. When I move the body, you go back to the cell with the long sword." "The town is full of Blacklock guards, all looking for you..." Saryon protested, remembering the uproar and the situation when he reported Joram missing. "What do you want-" "How do you think I got here? There is another way out here, behind the furnace." Joram said impatiently. "The blacksmith took it for a year to secretly store his weapons." "Weapons?" Saryon asked incredulously. "Yes, Catalyst Saints. The days of the Black Lock are numbered, and the Artisans of the Demon Artisans are doomed to rebel, and we're just hastening what is going to happen sooner or later. But don't think about it now! Take it! Long sword go back to the cell, no one will talk to you, after all you were originally locked with black. If they stop you, tell them the wizard followed my footsteps into the wilderness, he went into the wilderness alone to chase Me, that's all you know." "Yes." Saryon murmured. Joram watched him, frowning. "Did you hear what I said?" "I heard it!" Saryon said decisively. "And I will do as you say. I, like you, don't want rumors about this terrifying weapon to spread." He stood up and looked directly into the young man's face. "You have to destroy it, and if you don't, I will." The two stood, facing each other in the darkness.The dimly glowing coals brightened the room a little, and the fire flickered in Joram's eyes, and his lips parted in a dark, reddish smile. "What if someone gave you magic, Catalyst Saint?" he asked softly. "If someone told you: 'Here, take this power away, you no longer have to walk on the ground like an animal, you can fly, you can call the wind, you can make the sun set or the stars rise at will.' you What will you do? Won't you take the power away?" will i?Saryon thought.He suddenly remembered the memory of his father, he saw a little boy kick off the shoes he didn't like, and floated to the ground in the arms of the wizard. "This is my magic," said Joram, looking at the long sword lying on the ground. "Tomorrow I will set out for Merilon, and you too, Catalyst Saint, if you insist on coming. When I get there, to Merilon, to the city that ended my parents' lives and deprived me of my birthright, the sword Will pluck the star and put it in my heart. No, I won't destroy it." He paused. "Neither will you." "Why not?" Saryon asked. "Because you helped make it," said Joram, his face lit by the fire from the forge. "Because you worked hard to bring it into this world, because you gave it the power of life." "I—" Saryon began, but he didn't finish, too scared to examine the truth in his heart. Joram nodded with great satisfaction, and he turned and walked past the corpse, continuing to give orders as he went. "Wrap the longsword in these rags, and if anyone stops you, tell them you're carrying a child, a dead child." Looking down at the pale, trembling Catalyst Saint, he smiled. "Your boy, Saryon," he said. "You and my child." Joram stooped and lifted the sorcerer's body in his strong arms.He picked up the body on his shoulders, turned and walked through the mess of tools and piles of wood and coal to the back of the cave.The corpse bounced horribly as the young man advanced, his hands hanging limply behind his back, sweeping over all objects, as if trying in vain to grasp the world the soul had left.At last Joram disappeared into the darkness ahead, leaving Saryon alone in the furnace, staring at a spot on the floor. For a long time, he stood there unable to move, and then he had a very strange feeling.He seemed to stand up slowly from the floor, then floated backwards, looking down he could see himself still standing there.He kept floating upwards, watching his body slowly walk towards the sword, spinning upwards and floating around, always upwards; farther and farther away; he saw himself wrapping the sword with rags, he saw himself carefully lift the Picking it up, holding the sword to his chest, he saw himself stepping out of the furnace. As the catalyst saints shuffled away with the rustling of their robes, the heavy oak doors closed, and the shadows of night returned to the furnace, and the glowing coals seemed to be extinguished by its weight, and everything was shattered by a sudden clang. There was a loud crash, and a huge poker fell from a hanging nail into a bucket of water with a splash. "Damn it," a voice murmured. "Too dark to see the damn thing, it's still full." There was a sound of buckets falling, followed by the sound of water running across the floor, and with all kinds of wide-ranging curses, Simkin staggered out of the scrap iron and stood in the middle of the furnace, in his usual gaudy, Gorgeous clothes that are a little wet. "I said," commented the young man, looking around as he wiped the water off his beard. "It's a thrilling action scene. I haven't had such fun in a long time since the old Earl of Monsburg hung a rebellious serf outside his castle, tied by the ankles and hung in the cold wind." thought the guy Go up.' That's what the old boy said to me as we watched the civilians swing in the wind. 'He knows what it's like now.'" Shaking his head, Sim Jin walked nonchalantly to a pool of blood, which was still a little wet after soaking in the sandy soil of the furnace.He waved, and an orange silk scarf appeared on command.He carefully let the silk scarf float to the ground to cover the blood, and flicked his fingers to make the scarf and blood disappear at the same time. "On my honor," he murmured with a weary smile. "We should be able to have a good time at Merilon." Then Simkin left too, disappearing in mid-air like a wisp of smoke.
Tonight there is no flame in the furnace, and a faint flickering red light comes from the coal pile, but it is the pale, cold gleam of the sinking moon, touching the light of the blade of a long sword, whose face is full of hammer blows. The concave hole of the sword, the blade is sharp, but irregular and uneven. The longsword was the first thing Saryon and Blacklock saw when they emerged into the dark, moonlit forge, and the weapon lay atop the anvil, snug in the moonlight like a wicked viper. Saryon knew that Blacklock saw it too, and though he couldn't see the wizard's face hidden in the shadow of his black hood, he could still tell by the sharp inhalation that showed that even the disciplined Dukexis , at this time can not show calm.The law enforcement officer's clasped hands trembled, his fingers twitched, eager to touch, but he controlled himself again.Every sense of his was on alert, and his mind touched outward into the shadows, searching for his prey. Saryon searched Joram nonchalantly.The Catalyst Saint thought he would be immobilized by fear, his hands had been shaking since he left Heisuo's house, and he could hardly open the transmission channel to the Witcher.But here he is now, and his fear is gone, leaving a cold, clear void. Standing in front of the furnace, Saryon looked around at the place where he might die in the next minute, feeling that everything in the world suddenly filled the void, as if he was living every second of his life separately; His heartbeat jumped from one second to another, and every second made him concentrate and immerse himself in it.He looked around and listened to all directions, and in that second, he knew everything that happened nearby.Then he skips to the next second, and the strangest thing is that none of this makes any sense to him, he separates himself and becomes an observer, watching his body play its role in this deadly game. roles played.Heisuo could cut off his hands now, separate them from the wrists, but he wouldn't cry out, and he wouldn't feel anything.He could almost see himself standing in the moonlit darkness, staring calmly at the dripping blood. So this is courage.he thought.Watching a hand glowing white in the moonlight, reaching out from the shadows, silently grabbing the hilt of the sword. There was silence all around, save for the slightest movement.Of course, even if Saryon hadn't looked directly at the sword, he would never have noticed that Joram was moving with the skill and virtuosity his mother had taught him in childhood, yet Duke Xis had been trained to hear the night fall behind them. The black lock reacted so quickly that Saryon only saw a black whirlwind rushing into the furnace, splashing sparks in the coal pile.With one action and one spell, the sorcerer casts a spell that renders his opponent unable to move or react, or even think, a spell that sucks mana, sucks life force. But Joram has no life force. Saryon almost laughed, so nervous when the magic spell dealt what should have been a devastating blow to the young man, but then it fell around Joram like so many rose petals.Joram's pale hand continued to raise the long sword. The metal did not shine, it was a blackness that cut off the moonlight, like the night entity he held in his hand. Joram stepped into the light and raised the sword before the black lock, his face tensed and weary, his eyes blacker than metal.Saryon could sense the fear and uncertainty of the young man, and beyond all the research he had done, Joram had only the vaguest idea of the power of metal.But for the first time, the Catalyst Saint felt that all his senses were alive and extremely sensitive. Maybe he was reborn at this moment, and he could also feel the uncertainty, surprise, and growing fear of Heizuo. How much does Duke Xis know about the Dark Stone?Perhaps no more than Joland.What was going through the sorcerer's mind, did this long sword block his magic purge?Does it also block other spells?Heisuo had to make a decision in the split second of his next move, because he knew that his life might depend on this blow. Calmly Dukexis chose his spell and cast it, his eyes glowing green, and instantly a cloud of green liquid gathered from the air on Joram's skin and began to hiss and bubble.Cuibi is highly poisonous, this is the name of the spell.Recognizing the spell, Saryon flinched, his stomach constricting.The pain was unbearable.He'd heard it so, and like every nerve ending a little on fire, any mage powerful enough to block the purge spell was sure to fall victim and paralyzed by the poisonous magic, and he couldn't protect himself from both at the same time. attacker's attack. And it obviously affects both the living dead and the living with life force.Joram's face contorted with pain, and he gasped and began to bend, the liquid spreading, burning flesh to the touch, but it was a spell that drained a mage's power quickly. "Give me the power of life, Catalyst Saint!" Heisuo ordered, his eyes glowing brighter green as he stared at the young man. The time has come.Saryon knew this.It was time for me to make a choice, and I was Joram's only choice, and without me he would surely fall; even if the Dark Stone had done it, he would not be able to control the sword.The Catalyst Saint cast a quick glance at the weapon, and a shiver of ecstasy swept across him.Joram's body glowed green, and the young man screamed in pain, and he fell to the floor as the poison ran through him, his hands still gripping the longsword.His hands were not covered in the deadly liquid, the poison began to disappear from Joram's arms and upper body as Saryon watched, the dark sword absorbing the magic. It was absorbed so slowly, however, that within seconds Joram would have died, his body reduced to a mass of twitching, writhing mass on the sandy floor of the furnace. Saryon began chanting ancient spells, spells he'd learned seventeen years ago as a deacon; spells he'd never used, spells he thought he'd never use... He began to suck the life force of Heisuo. A very dangerous move, which is usually practiced only in war; a Catalyst would try to weaken an opponent by doing so, and instead of shutting down the transmission channel, the Catalyst would cut off the life force to a mage supply, they instead keep the transmission channels open and reverse the flow of life force.This move is dangerous because the wizard will immediately feel the life force begin to overflow from him, and unless distracted, they can fight back against the catalyst saint and reduce him to dust. Saryon knew the danger he was in, but he did not flinch when the black lock's angry roar cut through the darkness.Green eyes turned their venomous pain on him.Even watching my fingertips start to turn green and feeling the first tingles of pain start to dance up my arm, my courage remains unabated. "Joram!" he roared. "help me!" The young man fell to his knees and sobbed, and Heisuo's attention was diverted.The sword began to absorb the magic, and the poison faded from his flesh, albeit slowly.Hearing Saryon's roar, Joram raised his head, gritted his teeth and tried to stand up, but he was too weak to stand on his own, and there was nothing around him to lean on.Finally, he plunged the tip of the sword into the sandy ground of the furnace, grabbed the hilt and stood up slowly. "Joran!" The poison gnawed into Saryon's body, and the catalyst saint cursed himself.In all his rational thinking, he should have foreseen this!He draws life force from the sorcerer, but he has nowhere to use it!On the battlefield, he will have a fellow wizard, he can give this life force to his partner, and then the partner can use this power to strengthen himself and repel the enemy, but the catalyst saint cannot give the life force Given to Joram, he couldn't do him any favors. Then Saryon saw the longsword. It stood on the ground, its arms outstretched, like a man begging for help, black and dull metal.It is a dark creation, it is darkness, like a man begging for help. A feeling of shock and fear hit Saryon, paralyzed and slowly spreading to the whole body, with increasingly severe pain.The reason for the slowness was that until now he was still drawing the life force of the sorcerer, and at the same time he could feel that the man was getting weaker and weaker. I cannot give Joram the power of life, but I can give this long sword the power of life. Closing his eyes, Saryon looked away from the dark, hideous simulacrum that seemed to be wrapping its stiff arms around him.I can give up, my pain is coming to an end. obedience to life... He saw the flames of the village burning before him, the young deacon falling dead on the ground, and Simkin playing cards with no face or color. Fate be tame... Saryon opened his eyes and saw Joram draw the sword from the ground and hold it high above his head, but in Saryon's mind the young man was like a shadow in the moonlight, and he really saw and focused Attention is still the long sword.He reached out to it, fingers twitching violently in pain, and Saryon opened the transmission channel to the cold, lifeless metal. The magic swept over him like a gust of wind, with such force that he staggered backwards and fell.The pain suddenly stopped, the fluid on his skin disappeared, and the long sword glowed bright white and blue.After a burst of inarticulate roars, Heisuo fell to the ground. The combined power of the long sword and the catalyst saint absorbed all the magic in his body, and now he was nothing more than an empty human stinky skin. The sword fell to the ground, shaking him violently with unexpected force, and Joram dropped the weapon and stood gazing at it in amazement.The long sword was lying on the ground humming non-stop, the sound was strange, almost like a sharp roar of pleasure.He turned and looked from the sword to the helpless sorcerer.Heisuo roared angrily, struggling tirelessly, trying to regain control of his limbs, but to no avail.Weakened from exerting all his magical powers, he was now completely drained of life force, and the sorcerer flopped in the dust like a fish out of water. Terrified by the sight, Saryon turned and leaned on a work bench.Slowly he understood that it was all over. "I'll open a portal," he said, without looking at Joram.He couldn't face the sight of the sorcerer lying helpless on the ground, without all human dignity, and hearing his staccato voice and the pathetic shock of it was bad enough. "The life force from him is enough for me to do this, I'll put him in the portal and shut it down before the law enforcement understand what's going on. I don't think anyone else will Will come back here again, they'd rather avoid this place, plus they caught the black lock again, I'm sure they'll let the demon artisans live in peace. Even so, you'd better leave, just in case -" He was interrupted by a scream, a scream of rage and terror that turned into a piercing scream of anguish, then a whimper, and faded into a horrible, choking cluck. His soul was torn apart by the terrifying sound.Saryon turned around. Hei Suo lay dead on the ground, his eyes staring into the night sky, his mouth open, and the scream still seemed to be echoing in Saryon's mind.Joram stood above the wizard, his face pale in the moonlight, his eyes empty and dark.Holding the Dark Sword in his hand, the blade pierced the sorcerer's chest, and he pulled it out forcefully, and Saryon saw the black light of blood on the Dark Sword. Saryon could not speak a word, the man's dying screams still screaming in his ears, and he could only watch Joram, trying to hold back the horrific screams until he could think. "Why?" The Catalyst Saint finally whispered. Joram looked up at him, and Saryon saw the hidden smile again in those dark eyes. "He's about to attack you, Catalyst Saint." The young man replied coldly. "I stopped him." A scene of a helpless and slumped body vividly appeared in Saryon's mind, a burning liquid suddenly rushed into his throat, and he felt nauseous, and immediately replaced the scene of death with the scene at his feet floor. "You're lying! That's impossible!" he squeezed the words through clenched teeth. "There, Catalyst Saint," Joram said sarcastically.He stepped over the body, picked up the rags from the floor, and began wiping the blood from the blade. "It's all over, you don't have to pretend to play games anymore." Did he hear wrong?Saryon seemed to hear nothing but the scream. "Game?" he finally asked. "What game? I don't understand what you mean..." "Emin's blood! Who do you think I am? Mosiah!" Joram laughed, but it sounded like a howl, bitter and hoarse. "As if I'd believe all that pious nonsense." He raised his voice, muttering a parody of Saryon. "'I'm going to open a portal. Stay away...' Ha!" Joram dropped the blood-stained rag on the ground, and placed the longsword carefully on it. "Do you think I will be fooled by those words? I know your plan, as long as you open that teleportation corridor—" "No! You are wrong!" Startled by Saryon's impassioned roar, Joram turned his shoulders and fixed his gaze on the faces of the Catalyst Saints. "Well, from all appearances, I believe you mean it," he said slowly, eyeing Saryon in surprise. The catalyst saint didn't answer, he collapsed on the workbench, curled up in his robe, closed his eyes and began to tremble.It seemed that the dead wizard was able to avenge his sword, and his screams drained the vitality from Saryon's body, just as effectively as the catalyst saint sucked the magic power of the wizard.Nauseous, cold, disgusted and disgusted with himself and the young man at the same time, if Saryon believed in Emin enough for him to pray for one last request, he would rather be able to die. He heard Joram's steps across the sand, and felt the young man behind him. "You mean it," repeated Joram. "Yes." Saryon said wearily. "I'm serious." "You saved my life," continued Joram in a low voice. "You risked your own life to save me, I know, I saw..." Saryon felt the touch on his shoulder, startled, and looked back to see Joram's hand resting awkwardly there.He could see the face clearly in the fading moonlight, his dark eyes hidden by a strand of thick, jet-black hair.For a split second, with eagerness and longing in those eyes, the Catalyst Saint knew the truth now, as he had always known. Saryon's heart whispered to him: Years ago, I held this child in my arms! He raised his hand and took hold of Joram's, but as he did so the hand on his shoulder pulled away. "Why?" Joram asked. "What do you want from me?" Saryon watched the young man for a moment, then smiled wearily. "I ask nothing of you, Joram." "So, what's your reason for doing this, Catalyst Saint? Don't try to get me with those sweet and cute holy molasses bullshit that's only for people like Mosiah, I know you , you must have a motive." "I told you." Saryon said softly, turning his gaze to the weapon lying on the ground like another dead body. "It is my duty, part of my duty, to bring this .Saryon turned his gaze from the sword back to the sorcerer. "I failed, it's bloody now, it's killed—" "I made it splatter blood! I killed people!" Joran roared, standing in front of the Catalyst Saints. "The Dark Sword is just a tool in my hand, stop talking like this damn thing has more lives than me!" Saryon didn't answer, staggering with fatigue, hesitantly crossing the sands of the furnace, kneeling beside Blacklock's body.He clenched his teeth, suppressed a wave of nausea, and looked away from the horrible wound on his chest.He stretched out his hand and smoothed the eyes that were staring straight at him with fear and surprise; he tried his best to close the open jaw, so that his face showed a little bit of calm.He raised his cold hands and began to fold his arms over his chest in the traditional way, but found that he couldn't do it when the nausea overwhelmed him.He let his hands drop, turned away immediately, and collapsed on the workbench, shaking with cold sweat. "I'll drag the body into the woods," said Joram. Saryon heard a rustling, and looked back to see the young man covering his face with the wizard's hood, and wrapping the man's robes around his body. "When they find him, they'll think the centaur killed him." A Duke Sis?Saryon thought, but he didn't say anything, he didn't care about anything anyway.He looked out longingly, half expecting to see dawn light up along the horizon.But the moon had only just set, and it was only the darkest hour of the night.He wanted his bed, though it was cold and hard; he wanted to lie down, cover his head with his robe, and maybe... just maybe... the sleep that had been hiding from him at night would be able to sneak up on him around, and then for a certain period of time he can forget everything. "Listen to me, Catalyst Saint!" Joram's voice was harsh. "Besides you and me, the only other person who knows the Dark Sword is dead—" "So that's why you killed him." Joram ignored him. "This situation must continue. When I move the body, you go back to the cell with the long sword." "The town is full of Blacklock guards, all looking for you..." Saryon protested, remembering the uproar and the situation when he reported Joram missing. "What do you want-" "How do you think I got here? There is another way out here, behind the furnace." Joram said impatiently. "The blacksmith took it for a year to secretly store his weapons." "Weapons?" Saryon asked incredulously. "Yes, Catalyst Saints. The days of the Black Lock are numbered, and the Artisans of the Demon Artisans are doomed to rebel, and we're just hastening what is going to happen sooner or later. But don't think about it now! Take it! Long sword go back to the cell, no one will talk to you, after all you were originally locked with black. If they stop you, tell them the wizard followed my footsteps into the wilderness, he went into the wilderness alone to chase Me, that's all you know." "Yes." Saryon murmured. Joram watched him, frowning. "Did you hear what I said?" "I heard it!" Saryon said decisively. "And I will do as you say. I, like you, don't want rumors about this terrifying weapon to spread." He stood up and looked directly into the young man's face. "You have to destroy it, and if you don't, I will." The two stood, facing each other in the darkness.The dimly glowing coals brightened the room a little, and the fire flickered in Joram's eyes, and his lips parted in a dark, reddish smile. "What if someone gave you magic, Catalyst Saint?" he asked softly. "If someone told you: 'Here, take this power away, you no longer have to walk on the ground like an animal, you can fly, you can call the wind, you can make the sun set or the stars rise at will.' you What will you do? Won't you take the power away?" will i?Saryon thought.He suddenly remembered the memory of his father, he saw a little boy kick off the shoes he didn't like, and floated to the ground in the arms of the wizard. "This is my magic," said Joram, looking at the long sword lying on the ground. "Tomorrow I will set out for Merilon, and you too, Catalyst Saint, if you insist on coming. When I get there, to Merilon, to the city that ended my parents' lives and deprived me of my birthright, the sword Will pluck the star and put it in my heart. No, I won't destroy it." He paused. "Neither will you." "Why not?" Saryon asked. "Because you helped make it," said Joram, his face lit by the fire from the forge. "Because you worked hard to bring it into this world, because you gave it the power of life." "I—" Saryon began, but he didn't finish, too scared to examine the truth in his heart. Joram nodded with great satisfaction, and he turned and walked past the corpse, continuing to give orders as he went. "Wrap the longsword in these rags, and if anyone stops you, tell them you're carrying a child, a dead child." Looking down at the pale, trembling Catalyst Saint, he smiled. "Your boy, Saryon," he said. "You and my child." Joram stooped and lifted the sorcerer's body in his strong arms.He picked up the body on his shoulders, turned and walked through the mess of tools and piles of wood and coal to the back of the cave.The corpse bounced horribly as the young man advanced, his hands hanging limply behind his back, sweeping over all objects, as if trying in vain to grasp the world the soul had left.At last Joram disappeared into the darkness ahead, leaving Saryon alone in the furnace, staring at a spot on the floor. For a long time, he stood there unable to move, and then he had a very strange feeling.He seemed to stand up slowly from the floor, then floated backwards, looking down he could see himself still standing there.He kept floating upwards, watching his body slowly walk towards the sword, spinning upwards and floating around, always upwards; farther and farther away; he saw himself wrapping the sword with rags, he saw himself carefully lift the Picking it up, holding the sword to his chest, he saw himself stepping out of the furnace. As the catalyst saints shuffled away with the rustling of their robes, the heavy oak doors closed, and the shadows of night returned to the furnace, and the glowing coals seemed to be extinguished by its weight, and everything was shattered by a sudden clang. There was a loud crash, and a huge poker fell from a hanging nail into a bucket of water with a splash. "Damn it," a voice murmured. "Too dark to see the damn thing, it's still full." There was a sound of buckets falling, followed by the sound of water running across the floor, and with all kinds of wide-ranging curses, Simkin staggered out of the scrap iron and stood in the middle of the furnace, in his usual gaudy, Gorgeous clothes that are a little wet. "I said," commented the young man, looking around as he wiped the water off his beard. "It's a thrilling action scene. I haven't had such fun in a long time since the old Earl of Monsburg hung a rebellious serf outside his castle, tied by the ankles and hung in the cold wind." thought the guy Go up.' That's what the old boy said to me as we watched the civilians swing in the wind. 'He knows what it's like now.'" Shaking his head, Sim Jin walked nonchalantly to a pool of blood, which was still a little wet after soaking in the sandy soil of the furnace.He waved, and an orange silk scarf appeared on command.He carefully let the silk scarf float to the ground to cover the blood, and flicked his fingers to make the scarf and blood disappear at the same time. "On my honor," he murmured with a weary smile. "We should be able to have a good time at Merilon." Then Simkin left too, disappearing in mid-air like a wisp of smoke.