The Legend of Fatality

Nicolas Bremen dragged his body painfully and climbed up to the dirty attic on the roof. Outside, the decayed fish on the streets of Greentown mixed with the sewage on the street, emitting a weird stench. In this semi-abandoned house, the situation is not much better.

If he was n’t worried that he would be found directly when he returned to his house, he would n’t want to come to this house only for secret ceremonies. Every movement of him made him feel pain, very severe pain. His dark fingers were shaking, and he groped the large brass key from his belt.

The lock rattled, and he opened the door with his shoulders, and moved in with difficulty. He limped to the messy, stinky bedding in the corner of the small room on the roof. Carefully lowered the injured body, and when he touched the bedding, his entire body was protesting.

He was covered with burns, and the severe cold during the journey did not alleviate his pain. Shaking, he took out a small bottle of potion from the tattered robe and took a swig. The bottle of potion saved his life. For the first time, he was so grateful for choosing the profession of alchemist.

But there is not much medicine in the bottle. He will have to try to find more materials and make as much as possible, although it will take a long time. Not many formal alchemists know how to synthesize this special potion, and some known alchemists will hesitate to learn the amount of virgin blood they need to obtain.

But thanks to the **** Fatalin Association. Although he was the one who seriously wounded him, the Fatalin Association found a witch with blood healing power. And the witch named Aishan-Elgino did n’t mind occasionally donating a little blood to help his ‘research’. Although this ‘research’ was already completed, she did n’t need to know it.

When this healing elixir started to work, Nicholas relaxed a little and felt the pain disappeared again. As usual, it was replaced by a severe mental pain. He casually grabbed a towel and stuffed it in his mouth. He was afraid of screaming because of mental pain.

But neither physical nor mental pain is as good as the fear in his heart. He has failed. His associates are dead, and the observatory has not been destroyed. He almost died himself, or was almost swallowed by the flames released by the apprentice of the **** prophet, but somehow he left a trace of residual power.

He is very afraid of death. For more than 20 years, he has been serving the moody master who is the master of his life and soul. Nicholas knows that the fate of his soul is unlikely to have a happy ending.

This **** of darkness is capricious to those who disappointed them, and only to those who managed to plan them generously.

Nicholas made a weak cough. Even though this amazing healing agent started to work, he still felt bad. He is still in danger. As the others responsible for the attack were killed, he was alone again, in a hostile city, or on an island, with members of the Fatalin Association.

As far as he knows, he was not discovered by anyone when he left the observatory, but you can never guarantee this. What he needs to do. Most importantly, he must find a way to regain Sasolion ’s favor. If this cruel master is disappointed, he is actually sentenced to his own death sentence.

After a while, Nicholas gasped and reached under the dirty mattress. His black cracked fingers painfully found the target, and he took out a sealed bag. He poured it on the floor. A small crystal bottle, a metal bowl, and a tripod.

He was out of breath, struggling to get up from the bed, put the equipment in the tray, and then put them on the grill in the cold fireplace not far from the bed. After putting the bowl on the tripod, he poked the coke under the fireplace and chanted a few spells. For a while, nothing happened. But then, the coal burned and turned red.

Nicholas Bremen poured some of the contents of the bottle into the bowl, crushed it with a pestle, and gently stirred for a while with a stirring rod. Then he recited more mantras. An unnatural flame came out. The greasy liquid in the bowl began to bubble. He tried to relax himself and let the powerful magical air flow work. After a while, the oil began to emit pungent smoke. It coiled upwards, clinging to the stone of the fireplace.

Nicholas stared down at it deeply, chanting words full of magic power in his mouth. The smoke began to twist into a faintly discernible shape. Fortune-telling in this way is always casual, he really needs more time and preparation.

Although Nicholas is not the most powerful magician in the world, not even the strongest mage on Fatalin Island, he can only be regarded as an excellent alchemist and ordinary wizard.

But he always gazed at the hints of fate naturally and distinguished the correct way. Before he became a slave and was bought by the original members of the Fatalin Society, he was a formal master at the Marnus Imperial Academy of Magic, like the ones he helped kill at the observatory.

Although he believes that the wizards trained by the Spellcaster Academy are far less than those trained by the Imperial College of Magic, their pursuit of knowledge is the same, even if the Fatalin Association ’s philosophy is to acquire and share knowledge. Although the method is not clever, it is also a way to acquire knowledge.

Shortly after graduation, he returned to Burtania and, according to normal planning, became a noble court master. But he knew the importance of acquiring knowledge at the Marnus Imperial Academy of Magic, but unfortunately neither the former Burtania nor the current Fatalin Association could provide the knowledge he really wanted. Starting

So, long ago, before he left Burtania, he allied with a much stronger source of knowledge, even though it was a dangerous source of knowledge.

The bubbles in the oil came out more violently, and the color of the smoke began to change. It turned into a horrible green, then bright blue. Nicholas smiled. He is not completely out of favor ~ www.wuxiaspot.com ~ The burning oil contains information about his master, if you know how to read them. New 81 Chinese network update the fastest mobile terminal: https: /

He began to concentrate, trying to carefully separate those changing shapes. Only one shape keeps the oil clear long enough to be used for identification. It was a face, a cold, thin face. Nicholas was taken aback, and the face in the oil began to disappear.

"That's not a human face." He said to himself.

The oil began to boil, and the smoke gradually disappeared into the darkness. Nicholas gently blew the steaming bowl, and the last rays of smoke rose. The coal under the tripod lost its vitality again.

Nicholas stood up, walked to the tray and tripod, and tightened them back into the bag. After doing all this, he lay on the blanket and felt his bruised body protesting constantly. Stimulated by the potent resilience of the potion and the tension generated by his predicament, he felt his mind seem to be running wildly.

"An elf?" He muttered to himself. "Why show me this?"

Then, his consciousness began to blur, he was exhausted, and felt his severely injured body began to fall asleep. There is no doubt that the potion is working. He felt sleepy and closed his scorched eyelids.

"Maybe it's not an elf ..." He said to himself, his voice a little vague. He suddenly thought of an interesting thing. But at this time the potion completely controlled him, and the irresistible drowsiness brought him back into the dark arms.

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