Fulilian: The Little Master Who Doesn't Understand Love

Chapter 108: Celia's power reactor hurts

What Norn didn't know was that when he was crowned during the day, outside the royal city, there was a hillside covered with pale purple star flowers.

Celia was standing quietly.

She did not appear in front of everyone, but just stood in the distance.

The long golden hair was blown by the wind, and thirty years passed like a blink of an eye for the elf.

A round mirror made of magic was floating in front of Celie, and the scene in the mirror was the grand coronation ceremony in the city square.

As the crown fell, the square erupted in thunderous cheers, and Celie smiled.

The smile was shallow and fleeting, but it truly existed.

With the help of magic, she saw Norn's speech and his conversation with the Dwarf King, the Elf King, and Thom.

"Well done, Norn."

She whispered to herself, her cold voice almost inaudible, with a hint of relief that she herself was not even aware of.

If that guy were here too, he would definitely be relieved, right?
After all, the other party always said that when Norn was crowned king, he would snatch his crown and wear it for two days so that he could also satisfy the desire to have the crown on his head.

However, now that Norn has been crowned, that guy still hasn't appeared.

It is obvious that this young and naive human being already has gray hair and has even established a country of his own on this traumatized land.

But that person hasn't shown up yet.

When Norn mentioned the familiar word "God Slayer" that had been forgotten by time, Celie's lowered fingers moved unconsciously.

Her eyes involuntarily fell on the holy sword leaning quietly beside her.

This sword was once worshipped by the elves for generations, but now it is quietly placed aside.

The Holy Sword of Power - Athos.

Now as a saint, Celie can also pull out Athos and use some of his power.

This sword was the last thing the other party left for her. After the final battle with the gods, before everything was settled, the other party handed Athos to her.

"Take everyone and go!"

He said so at the time, his tone unquestionable, but it contained apology, instructions, and a sense of farewell that Celie couldn't fully understand at the time...
Then he disappeared.

Carrying the divine sword Org and all his secrets, he completely disappeared in the black mud wave that erupted after the death of the god.

No clues were left behind, just like a drop of water thrown into the sea, leaving no trace.

Thirty years.

For the immortal species, thirty years may be just a tiny amount of time in their long life.

But for Celie, these thirty years felt incredibly long.

She traveled to every corner of the continent and wiped out countless demons and monsters, but apart from the legends about them, there was no trace of them.

People don't even know what he looks like. They only know that decades ago, a hero named Lord stepped forward, killed the god believed in by the demons, and saved the world.

If only the statue had been left behind.

Celie didn't know why she was so persistent in looking for the other person, when it would be enough to just pretend that the guy was dead.

I'll erect a monument when the time comes and visit it whenever I remember.

This is what elves should do.

But why, why was he unwilling to admit the fact that the other person was dead?!
The figure who always has a gentle smile but can burst out with amazing strength at the critical moment;
The companion whose magical talent far surpassed his own, who could always create some unexpected magic for him;
The one who would silently prepare everything for her and would be so arrogant as to touch his head.

Lord.

His first companion was the only person in his long life who was willing to support his almost obsessive pursuit: the slaying of gods.

Ordinary people would have been scared away after hearing his wish, but Lord just smiled and said he would accompany him.

To me, he is such a unique existence.

But now, that presence was gone, leaving only the cold touch of fingers brushing against Athos.

If there is no Lord, my future life will definitely be boring, right?

In the magic mirror, Celie watched the hustle and bustle of the celebration, and everything seemed so unreal.

Everyone was talking and laughing happily, and everyone's faces were filled with joy, but for Celie, an intense feeling of loneliness that almost swallowed her up suddenly came over her without any warning.

She raised her hand and gently pressed it against her chest.

it hurts!

I don't know why my heart hurts so much!

It felt so strange, yet so heavy, so heavy that she could hardly breathe.

Before she met Lord, she thought she had long been accustomed to being alone, accustomed to learning magic alone, and accustomed to living alone.

She originally thought that for elves, separation was only temporary and there shouldn't be any pain.

But Lord's disappearance was like a perfect magic circle he had built that suddenly had a part missing.

No matter how he explored or filled it, the gap in the magic circle only became more obvious and larger.

"Where are you?" She whispered softly, her voice trembling slightly without even noticing it. "Could it be that you really..."

Celie stared at the celebrating crowd, as if expecting to see a figure that was impossible to appear.

"Why? You won't even leave a trace?"

Hope is always good.

But it is often painful.

It is because we believe in hope in our hearts that we have the determination to move forward.

Celia recalled Lord's back as he stood before her at the Dwarven ruins, facing the Skywing's divine attack;
I remember him holding Org in his hand, standing firm before the allied kings;

Recalling the various details of the discussions he and he had had when they created the "Pseudo-God Strike" magic;

Thinking of the calmness on the other person's face the night before entering the Land of the Fallen Gods.

All the images were so clear, as if they had just happened yesterday, but precisely because of their clarity, the pain on Celie's face became even more intense.

She slowly closed her eyes and tried to decipher a complex magic to dispel the inexplicable pain. This was the method she used most often in the past thirty years.

However, this time, she failed.

Against the backdrop of the celebration, the pain in my heart was magnified several times.

She lowered her head and her eyes fell on Athos again.

On the hilt of the sword, there is a simple sword tassel woven with ordinary silk thread, which is a little worn.

That was a work that Lord and Som had made when they were learning weaving. At that time, Celie said it was ugly and completely unworthy of Athos.

But the other party just smiled and said: "I think it's okay."

Celie's fingertips carefully touched the long-faded sword tassel.

A drop of cold liquid also slid down and dripped onto the scabbard of Athos and was absorbed by the vines, leaving no trace.

(End of this chapter)