The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 298 Ch.297 Never Ending
Roland didn't know what kind of life Cinder Kratov lived in the monastery, or whether it was a lewd brothel that brought pain to people as Enid said.

Now it seems that it is others who are suffering.

"Don't be like this, Mary. We haven't seen each other for a long time, and I miss you just as much."

In Mary's eyes, Shandel's standard smile was like the sharp claws of an alien creature approaching, making her tremble like a sieve.

She buried her head in the soil and said nothing.

"I am coming with my friend, and I am going to the main temple, Mary."

"If you have time, we can talk later."

She looked down at the bloated dog kneeling in front of her shoes, and her mood suddenly became much happier.

It was because of such happiness that she was reluctant to leave here for a long time.

This happy soil...

To her, it was the real heaven on earth.

"Come on, Miss Vansittart."

Shandel called out.

Roland nodded to the kneeling woman, and without caring whether she responded or not, he turned around and followed Shandel.

Some nuns who were walking on the lawn or reading books or chanting scriptures under the trees turned their eyes over - most of them, the vast majority, seemed to recognize Cinder Kratov, and soon they continued to do what they were supposed to do.

However, it was visibly that they had moved away from the path they were heading for.

"She's very afraid of you."

Roland said as he looked around.

When he stepped into the flames, everything in front of him seemed to be covered with a layer of golden mist.

But the strange thing is that he didn't feel any difference from outside...

There is indeed a ritual going on here, and a ritual does indeed hang over the monastery.

Intense, vigorous and lasting.

But Roland felt nothing.

"She's not afraid of me, Roland. She's just afraid of the evil thoughts in her own heart. She's afraid of her own fear."

Roland asked her what she was afraid of.

"The fear of being forced to eat several times the amount of lunch or dinner you normally eat, until your stomach bursts."

"Isn't he still afraid of you?"

Without thinking, Shandel knew that Roland had probably "misunderstood" something.

"I didn't force her, Roland, and no one else did."

Shandel said.

"She's atoning for her sins."

Mary wasn't like this a few years ago.

She had no missing teeth, and her face was not as wrinkled as it is today. She was straight and slender, and her hair was always shiny.

She made a mistake.

Was sent to a reformatory.

At that time, Shandel Kratov was in charge.

"All her sins stem from her jealousy and insatiable greed. She used her own flesh and blood to seduce men, but when she achieved her goal, she hurt them in return. Roland, she did this no less than ten times."

"If it's not controlled, she will soon go deeper and deeper into this method..."

"She'll find a neater shortcut."

"A power different from that of ordinary people, which allows her to use this coveted flesh and blood given by God more easily..."

Shandel uttered a name that Roland was familiar with.

"Cradle of Flesh and Blood."

"When we caught her, guess what? It was her first encounter with the cultists of the Cradle of Flesh..."

"I can safely say that if we had waited a few more months, we would have been dealing with a real, completely deranged cultist."

Almost became a cultist.

A bloated woman who has returned to the right path and redeemed herself.

It was hard for Roland to imagine what she had gone through in the reformatory to become what she was today.

"Don't sympathize with someone you shouldn't sympathize with, Roland."

"It's not sympathy, Shandel. I just don't understand why such a dangerous person is only detained in a reformatory?" Roland didn't feel anything for the kneeling woman, but he thought that the monastery was a little...

Not careful enough?

That was someone who had come into contact with the cultists. If it were the Inquisition, the ashes of her flesh and blood would have been mixed in the mud to grow new flowers.

Just detention?

Let her gain some weight?

Now just sitting at the door?

Shandel smiled with an ambiguous tone.

This is good.

If someone who is not familiar with the monastery thinks they are 'compassionate', then this is exactly what they want to show to the public.

The girl said with a hint of malice: "…If you want to know, I have a way."

Roland's face turned pale: "I don't want to know now."

Shandel: ...

"Why do you always give up so quickly, Roland? You don't act like a brave gentleman at all."

"In the workhouse no brave gentleman ever lived to my age."

Xiandel was stunned, silent for a few seconds, and apologized softly.

"It's okay, Shandel. We will slowly get to know each other's past." Roland lowered her head and struggled with the seven or eight overlapping long skirts on her body: "I hope you won't hate me by then."

"Why me?" Shandel was confused.

This time it was Roland's turn to laugh.

"Stinky cat..."
-
Aren't you supposed to be unable to see my memories?
"But I didn't say I can't read your dreams..."
-
You still watched it.

"It's your own dream, what does it have to do with me?"

Roland paused.

They crossed the lawn and came to a path.

The soft grass and soil underfoot were replaced by sharp, irregular gravel.

The blood of red camellia is spilled on the sharpest edges and then sucked away by the never-satisfied land along the gaps between the sharp edges.

Roland saw some nuns who 'seemed' more devout.

They walked barefoot, their red soles stepping on the irregularly raised drawing paper, leaving a long and colorful trail behind them.

“The path of asceticism.”

Shandel spoke very softly, for fear of disturbing the souls wandering during the day.

This was a unique way of cultivation that Roland had never heard of. When Shandel drew out his dagger and grabbed Roland's wrist, the wandering brushes seemed to have known what would happen. They only paid indifference to the gravel canvas under their feet, which disappeared at the end of the path in even depth.

"It won't hurt much."

Shandel pinched Roland's index finger and pressed lightly on the blade.

Just a gentle touch.

A long but not deep cut appeared on the fingertip.

A drop of blood squeezed out and swelled into a ball.

It was immediately sucked away by another tongue.

"Xandel?"

boo.

Roland pulled his fingers out, not understanding what Shandel was doing...

But the next moment.

He felt a sharp pain coming from the wound - it was not the pain of flesh being torn apart after a knife wound, but the pain of countless wasps attacking the wound one after another.

He was like a drunkard who had been burned by flames for a few breaths. He instantly tensed his muscles, turned his wrists, and swung his arms.

He was no longer an outsider in the fire scene.

The golden flame, burning vigorously, attached to his body like a thin layer of golden gauze.

pain…

The constant pain pierced from the fingertips all the way into the brain.

“It never ends.”

Shandel put away the dagger, and his smile widened in Roland's sight: "Never-ending pain. As long as there are scars... it will never stop."

Roland subconsciously looked towards the path that ended at the end again.

The pale black veils were withering, but the surrounding plants were unusually bright and lush.

(End of this chapter)