The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 274: The Angry Dolphin

Although it was the ancient angel who killed the cultists and the bewitched citizens and saved Bristol——

But in fact, many people know that the source of the chaos is most likely... the "holy" creature with wings on its back.

Ancient angel, alien species.

It contaminated tens of thousands of Bristol residents and led to an infestation of spiders.

But there is a problem:
Where do those creatures, or alien 'phantoms', that fight against the alienated citizens come from?
Only guesses.

The world of sleep is too vast and mysterious, no ritualist dares to say that he fully understands it...

The same is true for heterospecies.

The surviving ritualists probably can't give an answer.

After all, no one really thought that they could extract any "earth-shattering secrets" from these ritualists, whose highest level was no more than three rings, and whose lowest level was only an apprentice - they were already exceptionally good for being able to save their lives in this huge chaos.

Even if some people suspect that all this might be done by the ritualist...

Nor could it be these ritualists who survived.

As for the rare items, that is even more impossible. Until now, no one has ever heard of any rare items that can allow the ritualist to master high-level power in advance - if it really exists, the person who uses it will definitely not survive.

The most accepted guess at the moment is: enemy.

Those humanoid creatures armed with swords and longbows are the enemies of the ancient angels.

A battle between aliens.

It's not impossible.

Therefore, the "field" that enveloped the entire city, thousands of alienated citizens...

Are they ancient angels who transformed into "soldiers" in order to fight those alien species?
It's somewhat reasonable to think this way.

(Please ignore David Cromwell who lost his head. Whether the chaos came from cultists or aliens, he only sacrificed himself to stop all the conspiracy and for the glory of the Lord.)
"The prophecy didn't work? I heard that group of people are supernatural and can be seen in every major case."

Roland lay back on the bed with a pillow behind him: "It's not that accurate, is it?"

Enid said it wasn't a question of accuracy.

Prophecy is a very complex force.

He can be used by the ritualist, but does not completely belong to the ritualist himself.

“It’s like a river.”

Enid used an analogy.

——It’s like choosing a section of river to cast your fishing net.

Fishing nets are power.

The river is time, history, the established past or future.

Definitions are constantly changing.

But the fishing nets and the people who cast them remain unchanged.

"The reason why the gold pound case in London and the fraud gang were able to escape was because the fishing net was thrown too late and the river was flowing too fast. How big a net would it take to catch up with the turbulent current that never stops flowing?"

Roland understood.

"You mean, they missed the time."

Enid sneered: "I mean, their 'fishing net' was broken."

While Roland was in a coma, three "Fates" died.

One was from the royal family, a subordinate of her dessert friend.

A Council of Truth from the Holy Cross.

The last one belongs to the Ring of Eternal Silence.

Three "destinies", hand in hand, going to heaven... or hell.

"Their bodies look like this."

Enid opened her palm, then slowly tightened it in front of Roland and clenched it into a fist.

“Squeeze out the juice.”

Roland was speechless.

He didn't know whether it was the ancient angel or some other influence that caused the deaths of the three ritualists - but it was more likely that they mistakenly aimed their fishing nets at someone who shouldn't have been snooping.

Like the one on the lonely island.

"Enid."

"Ok?"

"Tell me about Delis?"

This saint sounds great at first, and it is great when you think about it carefully - but if you start looking through books or ancient records, you will be surprised to find...

No.

There are very few past records about "Saint Delis".

People say that she was born in the Inquisition and, with the help of the entire Holy Cross, she put the gods to sleep at her own expense.

Gone.

Where was she born? What did she do when she was young? What path did she take? Friends, relatives, lovers—

Nothing was recorded.

She is like a brilliant, dust-free flag.

Everyone has great respect for the flag, but no one cares if it was made by some blind, milkless, or toe-less old woman in a stinking toilet full of flies.

No one seems to care.

"Delis..."

Enid murmured, "He is a saint."

silence.

"No more?" Roland said helplessly, "What you said is even less than what I read in the book."

"You should know where she comes from, right?" Enid glanced at Roland. "Delis, Holy Cross, Inquisition."

Roland: “Yes, I’ve seen it in a book.”

"So do you know which path she belongs to?"

Enid crossed her arms, resting her chin on her hand, a cunning gleam in her brown eyes.

"Although I wanted to say 'Holy Flame'."

The fire that burned the entire ocean in Roland's memory was the most obvious - but since Enid asked...

"She is not the Holy Flame."

It is definitely not.

"A secret."

Enid said.

"There was once more than one path in the Inquisition."

Everyone knows that the "Holy Flame" is the symbol of the Inquisition - apart from the hearts that become increasingly cold as they rise, that dazzling flame is what truly frightens people.

But long ago, the Inquisition had a second path.

Until Delis left the waking world.

That road was cut off.

From a material perspective as well as a spiritual perspective.

No one knows how to create the standard objects of that path, and no one has ever found the rituals of that path from the secret tradition.

“It’s like it’s completely non-existent.”

Speaking of the past, Enid couldn't help but sigh for the lost treasures: "Even on some roads that have never been traveled by anyone, there will be rules or rituals circulating in the Golden Island..."

“But Delis’ path has completely disappeared.”

Enid said.

"The name of that road is..."

"The Brave Man."

The atmosphere was stagnant for a moment.

"Roland?"

The Brave...

Enid called out softly to the dazed man.

"You should rest more and think less."

She preferred the man who used his mouth as a candle to explore the unknown, as a tool to satisfy his masculine curiosity, and who pioneered the land full of female roses - rather than the young man who frowned and pondered all the time, even wanting to turn himself into a sculpture.

She didn't want to see Roland like this.

The more pain he suffers, the more pain she suffers.

Because she followed the prophecy that perhaps should never be heard or done, she may have buried with her own hands something that countless people cherished, causing the gears to deviate from their original trajectory and mesh with her desires.

She is a despicable and cold-blooded thief, robber, and murderer, but paradoxically, she does not want the people she cares about to see her despicable and cold-bloodedness.

This thought undoubtedly made her look even more despicable.

How can I express my feelings that are more intense than passion and more lasting than loyalty?

Enid didn't know; she had little experience.

But there is only one thing.

She has read a lot of books.

I have also consulted many professionals.

She knew how to interrupt a man's deep thoughts, and knew that once she sucked the contents of their brains, they would no longer be able to think - at least for a short period of time, empty.

A bit obscene.

But she was not originally a noble person.

Just an apology...

My millionth apology.

"Roland."

"Hmm?" The young man with unfocused eyes on the hospital bed responded, but he was still staring at the corner of the wall in a daze.

"There's a guy who's always furious."

Enid rolled up the thin sheets, raised her lips slightly, and greeted Roland.

(End of this chapter)