"You lost!"
In the early hours of the morning, at the entrance of the alley, Manse dusted his clothes with his bony arms. "You're no match for me."
He looked into the distance and saw that the sky was already turning bright. It was almost daytime. He picked up the raincoat and gun on the ground and pressed the Mauser pistol into the boy's mouth. He decided to wait until the second the day arrived and blow his head off.
Time ticked by. Maans maintained his posture, ready to pull the trigger at any time. The night was not over yet. He could see the young man's face, which had been beaten beyond recognition, slowly wriggling and recovering. His crooked nose rose again, his bloodstained eyes slowly opened, and his cracked lips healed little by little.
"You're not resisting anymore?" He moved the gun away slightly and asked like a friend, "If you ask me, you can still fight, right?"
The pig-headed boy nodded slowly as he lay on the ground in the rain.
"You don't seem to care at all. Isn't death scary to you?" In the last few minutes before dawn, Manse asked curiously.
The pig-headed boy shook his head slowly.
"Why aren't you saying anything? The day is coming. If you don't say anything, you'll die." After thinking for a while, Manse showed a rare gentleness on his face. "If you have any last wishes, you can tell me. I can help you to fulfill them."
The pig-headed boy thought for a while. His lips moved but no sound came out. Out of respect for his opponent, Manse bent down and put his ear next to his mouth.
"I'm sorry …" he said softly.
Sorry?
Why did he have to say sorry? Manse straightened up and frowned. He felt that the words were not meant for him.
At this time, the cumulonimbus clouds in the sky had completely dissipated. Under the first glimmer of dawn, he saw that there was another person's shadow in the puddles on the ground. That person was already standing behind him silently.
The shadow of death that had been suppressed during the battle suddenly exploded at this moment and was expanded to the limit.
"Ha!!"
He roared, trying to use this method to scare away the guy behind him, or to dispel the fear in his heart.
Time slowed to a crawl at this moment. It was almost to the point of being completely still. However, the figure in the puddles was not affected at all. It moved slightly.
Puchi.
Manse saw a black spike protruding from his body, and then he pulled it out. As the black spike entered his body, an intense pain turned into a signal of death that shot straight up into the sky.
.....
Ten thousand miles away.
In a quiet room filled with incense, a man sat cross-legged on a praying mat, meditating. His long white hair hung down from his head to his waist.
Suddenly, he opened his eyes, pulled out his black wand, and pointed it at the void.
Six burning candles appeared in the room.
However, in the middle of one of the candles, a tiny black dot appeared. The black dot expanded at a speed visible to the naked eye, and in the blink of an eye, the flame was swallowed up.
"Hee hee, hahahahaha ~"
At the same time, an inexplicable strange child's laughter faintly sounded in the meditation room, like the laughter of a naughty child after a successful prank.
The white-haired man stared blankly at the extinguished flame and green smoke drifted out. For a moment, he even forgot to breathe.
.....
Bournemouth.
In an alley less than a hundred meters away from the port, Manse clutched his chest tightly. Black gas gushed out from the wound and quickly spread out. It was as if his body wasn't filled with red blood, but with a gas as black as ink.
He looked back at the first moment, but there was nothing behind him.
The person who killed him had either escaped or hidden himself.
"Impossible … impossible … I clearly broke it … impossible!!"
He turned his head frantically, trying to turn back time, but under the passing of the black smoke, he found that he could not even control his body. He hit his head against the wall, his body twitching, twisting, struggling …
"Damn it!!"
"Why!!?"
"I've already done this much?"
Unable to control himself, he roared wildly, and was almost unable to extricate himself from the confusion. "Who is it, who is it!?"
No one answered. The tiny black hole in his chest started to spread to his entire body. He could even hear something chewing on his soul slowly. Every bite took away a part of his memory, and every bite took away a part of his rationality.
Under the pressure of death, he completely lost control. "What should I do? What should I do …? "
At this moment, he saw Hoffa on the ground, and as if seeing his last hope, he rolled and crawled to the ground, pressing on Hoffa's body and grabbing his shoulder. "Tell me who it is! Tell me who it is! "
Hoffa fell to the ground, looking at the rising sun and the fading moon in the distance, ignoring Manse's pleas. In fact, the moment he destroyed Mistletoe, he already understood everything.
After fighting with him so many times, he understood the character of this Muggle. It was because he understood that he could not help but feel an indescribable sympathy from the bottom of his heart. If he did not have the most tenacious desire to live, how could he evolve such a terrible desire to control? However, all of this quickly fell apart as he toyed with them.
"Whatever you want, whatever you want, I can give it to you!" Manse pulled Hoffa up from the ground and pressed him against the wall. His strong unwillingness made him speak very quickly. "Tell me, who killed me. I can help you kill Grindelwald, I can even help you rewrite history, I can help you do anything you want, as long as you tell me … "
There was silence.
The youth who was being shaken turned his head away, his lips tightly shut, maintaining silence. There was only sadness and sympathy in his eyes.
"Tell me!"
"Tell me!"
"Tell me!"
He shouted crazily, his voice trembling with sobs.
"You know, right?"
"I beg you."
"I beg you …"
.....
The voice became softer and softer until it completely disappeared.
Hoffa did not say a word.
Finally, Manse lowered his head and let go of his hand. All order was completely out of control at this moment. Confusion swallowed him, and he leaned back. He leaned against the corner of the wall filled with puddles and stared blankly at the sky. "Am I still too narrow-minded …?"
He muttered.
The black smoke in his chest spread to his head, floated across his cheeks, and dissipated into the night sky. After the black smoke dissipated, his body completely collapsed, becoming dark and thin, all skin and bones. His hair was dry, like a skeleton that had been dead for many years.
.....
.....
The sun gradually rose at dawn, and some street sweepers wearing raincoats appeared on the streets of Bournemouth. There was a melodious air-raid siren in the distance. No one knew that the savior of the city had become one with it.
Heavy exhaustion rushed into Hoffa's heart. He leaned against the wall and sat beside Manse's small black skeleton, like two migrant workers who were about to smoke on the bricks of the construction site after a hard day's work.
It was finally over.
No one could stop him from sending Chloe back to London.
No one could stop him from fulfilling his long-cherished wish.
However, he could not help but feel confused. After all that had happened, he was not sure what he wanted.
A palm pressed on his shoulder.
He looked back and saw the nun that he had placed on the roof in the distance come to his side. She was wet and trembling all over.
"Chloe …."
Hoffa looked at her with mixed feelings.
Plop.
Chloe knelt down in the puddles and stared blankly at Manse's skeleton that had curled up into a ball. After a while, she turned her head and asked Hoffa with a trembling voice, "Will I go to hell?"
"No."
Hoffa hugged her shoulders and pressed his forehead against hers. He said softly, "Definitely not."
"What does it feel like to kill someone?" She asked Hoffa for the second time. This time, her tone was much heavier than it was in Paris.
Hoffa thought for a while and said seriously, "You will feel that people are not so noble and sacred, just like other animals in nature and livestock. If you get used to it, you will become numb and not care about life and death at all. "
"Then why are there executioners? If it is not beautiful. "Chloe pushed Hoffa away and stared at him.
The question became sharper and sharper. Hoffa could hardly look into her eyes. He turned his head away and said, "Some souls are destined to burn. Or warm others, or burn their own kind.
For the benefit and survival of more people, sometimes a few people have to be sacrificed. This is the meaning of prison, this is the meaning of the death penalty. "
"Yes, what you said makes sense."
Chloe looked at him in pain and said, "But sometimes I also think, if those murderers, those crazy people, those thugs who torture their own kind. If they did not have their own experiences, if they did not have their own painful experiences, how could they become like this? If no one is willing to listen to their voices, no one is willing to bring them salvation, then there will be more and more people like them. This cycle of life will never have an end. "
Hoffa was speechless. He opened his mouth and did not know what to say for a long time.
Chloe looked into his eyes and said with a trembling voice, "Look at me, Hoffa."
Hoffa looked into the nun's eyes and found that there was a faint silver light in her eyes. It was the sign of magic going berserk.
"I think … I think, maybe no one can answer your question. Only God can."
"I just want to hear you talk. Talk to me more." The nun's voice was filled with fear and confusion.
Hoffa fell into deep thought. At this moment. He thought of Adebe Ghoshak, Abusi Dumbledore, the Void Dragon, everything he learned in the magic school, and the pain he experienced in the past. Suddenly, he had an answer.
"When I was in Hogwarts, the founder of Ravenclaw, Ronay Ravenclaw, once told me to look for the light in the darkness.
I think there will always be darkness in the world, just like there will always be night. But some people will succumb to the darkness, while others will find hope in the darkness and work hard.
If you ask me, it's not that they are unlucky, but that they chose to succumb. "
As he said that, he raised his head and looked at Chloe's pure silver pupils with his fiery eyes. "If you feel that there is something positive in this darkness, then go ahead and do it, if it will bring light."
In an inconspicuous corner that was as low as a speck of dust, some kind of invisible flame was transmitted from one person to another. Crowley stared blankly at Huo Fa. This was the first time she had peeked into the soul of this man who had been with her for many days.
"I understand."
Finally, she nodded and untied her red hair. She took off her nun's hat and stood up.
Hoffa knew what she was going to do, but he still couldn't bear it. After hesitating for a while, he stood up. "Why don't I go with you? I can help you …"
He didn't dare to continue because he knew that everything that was about to happen had already happened, and it wasn't something he could change. She was destined to return to the past, save the refugees, and remind herself to abandon the black mistletoe until the end of the enemy.
Chloe shook her head and turned to walk into Bournemouth. She walked alone into the darkness, towards the cycle that Hoffa knew.
You've already exceeded your reading limit for today. If you want to read more, please log in.
Login
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
