After my rebirth, Miss Saint turned evil

Chapter 56 The Magician's Conspiracy

The afterglow of the setting sun shone through the windows, illuminating the corridor of Lord Belphein's Mansion.

The servant who was delivering the water bottle bowed his head respectfully in response to the fluttering black hair reflected in the window.

"...Please, Miss Frodo."

Frodo walked leisurely past the servant whose lips were trembling and whose pupils were swaying vacantly.

Thank you, Frodo just said this, and walked through the corridor of the lord's mansion with dignity, as if it was a matter of course, as if to emphasize that there was nothing strange about it.

A sweet, flower-like fragrance wafted from her fingertips.

Slowly, slowly, she walked across the corridor and out of the servants' sight. Then, with a "whoosh", Frodo breathed a sigh of relief.

——Great, it seems to be going well.

Frodo leaned against the wall, staring at her fingertips, her black pupils shaking slightly.

Magic that induces thinking is indeed convenient, but it is far from omnipotent.

In a sense, it can be said to be magic.

All you can do is induce the other party to think and misunderstand the facts. If the sense of incongruity is too strong, the effect will be weakened.

The best that Frodo could do now was to make the other party feel that it was not strange for her, as a guest, to walk around the restaurant.

That being said, it seems there is still a long way to go before it can be enough to forcibly incite many people, as Murphy said.

Frodo's black pupils couldn't help but flicker.

In that case, it would be too early to tell Murphy about this.

It's really anxious. I really want to blow the results into Murphy's ears right now and listen to the sound coming out of his lips.

However, be patient. If you are too anxious, success will slip away from your hands. Everything must be prepared to the best of its ability, so that not even a drop of water or a bug can get in.

Besides, as for thought induction, it would be fine as long as we can do this now.

After all, all you need is a little freedom, and it's enough for now, so there's no need to rush.

But despite this, Frodo still felt a sense of loss in her heart.

In order not to arouse suspicion and let others noticing her tiptoeing movements, Frodo unknowingly quickened her pace.

What a loser, so embarrassing. Isn't this just like a child who can't control his emotions?

But it's almost time, Murphy will be here soon.

It was a kind of premonition, an assumption about his actions.

Yes, he will definitely come to capture this city called Belphein.

Because Murphy, that's who he is.

So, I want to prepare everything for him, pave the way for him, and set the stage for him.

Would he be happy then? Would he praise me? Maybe he would even turn his gaze towards me for a moment... maybe.

This imagination just passed through the edge of her brain, and something warm would surge in Frodo's heart, which could not be stopped no matter what.

To this day, Murphy has not looked this way, that is a fact.

Although I don't want to know or understand, I can't ignore that fact. That's not allowed.

Because looking away is equivalent to accepting Murphy's behavior, which is equivalent to telling him: even if he doesn't look at this side, he can accept it.

Frodo thought that if it were her old self, she would have accepted it easily.

No matter how hard she stretched out her hand to chase that hand, as long as she could see his back, Frodo would definitely accept it and say: There is nothing I can do about it, my hands can't reach it anyway.

However, it is really incredible that until now, this feeling has not appeared in my heart at all.

Rather, it seems that there was no choice between acceptance and resignation from the beginning.

Maybe she was influenced by Murphy, or maybe, deep in Frodo's heart, this kind of spirit was originally buried.

Then, the spirit said: To accomplish everything here, in Belphein, the decisive stake must be driven into Mephi's body.

That's right, the stake that will ensure that he will rely on me and reach out to me sooner or later must be driven in here.

Thinking of this, Frodo blinked.

It would be very troubling for me if you looked down upon me like that.

Indeed, compared to the battlefield hero Filia and the Heraldry Saint Madia, these hands of his may indeed possess very little.

God did not give himself glory, and even insulted himself.

I was not a genius who could accomplish everything easily. My eyes were wet with bitterness countless times. I had to clench my fists and endure humiliation. I saw the gap that made me give up hope time and time again.

I belittle myself again and again, telling myself over and over again: someone like me is unattainable.

Many times, many times.

So, every time this happened, blood would seep out of the nails.

Yes, surrounded by those talented people, I have seen the despair that makes people give up countless times, and I am the fool who hangs my head every time.

That's why, ahhh, that's why.

——It’s just you I don’t want to give up. Murphy, don’t think you can leave me so easily.

Even if my nails were cut and my fingertips bled, even if my eyes lost their sparkle, you know what? Compared to the whimpering of a dead heart, the excruciating pain that ravaged my body was far better.

Frodo's cheeks relaxed into a gentle smile as she walked along the corridor of the lord's mansion, her destination already decided.

That was a room that must exist in the mansion of a lord, a noble, or someone called that.

Frodo's feet slowly walked towards the place where the wisdom of this land was gathered - the library.

The shadow slowly extended across the corridor.

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The pupils in his eyes kept shaking as if he was afraid of something.

Ella's lips felt dry and her lungs felt a strange suffocating sensation.

My internal organs were telling me that the air I had just breathed in seemed to have transformed into something else, and something was very wrong.

What? what happened?

Ella's pupils flickered rapidly, and in her subtly swaying mind, she pondered: It's nothing, the air probably isn't really deteriorating. It's just that something seems to have been stirred...

——Is that so? Magic, I see. The flow of magic was distorted in an instant, and it felt as if the air had gone bad.

Ella couldn't help but feel nauseous and covered her mouth with her hands.

Originally, if it were just an ordinary person, they would probably just tilt their head slightly and end the feeling with a sense of incongruity.

Even someone with deep magical knowledge would probably just frown slightly and pretend not to notice.

However, the magical power overflowing from the body of the "Saint" clearly indicated to Ella that something was wrong.

It was the magic power itself that was shaken, and the direction it was supposed to flow was now flowing in a disgusting reverse direction.

In other words, it's as if the blood flowing throughout the body has forgotten where it's supposed to go and is transporting blood to completely the wrong place.

—This won’t do. Something has gone terribly wrong.

Her pure white hair swayed, and Ella knew her cheeks were turning slightly pale, but she stood up unconsciously.

Then, in an instant, he felt the distortion, disorder, and flow of the magic power.

As if searching for its origin, Ella staggered and ran out of the room and into the corridor.

The afterglow of the sunset coming in through the window gently caressed Ella's eyes, and her long eyelashes swayed.

Oh, it’s getting dark.

"------"

As if shocked by the twilight scene, Ella's lips moved slightly.

The faint sound did not reach anyone's ears, but mixed in the sky and disappeared without a trace.

Chapter 57: The Whirlpool of Magic

The so-called city, its very existence is a vortex of magic. After all, there are many people who gather magic like worker bees.

When Frodo was a child, she heard from her father that the great magician who left these words was the ancestor of the Volgograd family.

However, everyone seemed stunned at the time, thinking to themselves: What on earth is this talking about?

To be precise, the so-called city is a container of human magic, which may be easier to understand.

The great magician said that magic is a kind of living throbbing.

Whether it's blinking, the beating of the heart, or the movement of fingers and arms, all of these will consume magic power unconsciously.

When the magic power disappears from the body and gradually dries up, it is the time of aging and death.

Without the driving force of magic, humans would be just a piece of flesh, unable to move even a finger.

So everyone has magic power, and everyone will absorb magic power unconsciously and then spit out magic power, and live like this day after day.

Beings who can consciously carry out such activities are magicians and magicians.

Of course, this is also what the great magician said.

Frodo blinked, inadvertently recalling the words she had heard in the past.

Her eyes slowly swept across the dim library, as if she was looking for something, and her black pupils couldn't help but dilate.

What you are looking for must be here.

Belphein is a city-state, which means that Belphein itself is the capital of a country.

Because of this, the library here should be filled with all of Belphein's books.

The library was covered in dust. I'm afraid it had hardly ever been cleaned, not even a broom had been used.

Although he collected books as a duty as a lord, Mordo himself did not seem to make much use of the library.

What a shame! This is tantamount to giving gold coins to Warcraft. Really, there must be a limit to the decay of treasure.

Thinking of this, Frodo couldn't help but hum at the pile of books.

If I could, I would really like to read all the books here.

If time permits, living in the cradle of books and in the drama of knowledge has long become a pleasure for Frodo.

When she was in college, she always stayed alone in the college library.

When she recalls it now, she can't help but feel nostalgic.

Having said that, up to now, Frodo has never thought about going back to that time.

Suddenly, the fingertips swaying in the dim light stopped, and Frodo's black pupils opened wide and trembled.

——Yes, this is it.

Frodo's fingertips and all the knowledge she had accumulated so far spoke of this.

By touching the spine of the book with her fingertips, Frodo felt a slight fragment of magic.

The appearance of the book is not just old, it even looks like it is difficult to preserve.

Although it seemed to be protected by magic in the past, that effect has weakened.

The parchment now has cracks due to aging.

Perhaps it was coated with lard or wax for maintenance in the past. The moment she took it in her hand, an indescribable smell hit her nose, which made Frodo frown.

But then, as if she had made up her mind, Frodo lowered her eyes and cautiously ran her fingertips across the parchment.

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The reason a city becomes a vortex of magic is because people with magical powers gather together.

When people gather in cities to live, they unconsciously emit magical power from their bodies every day.

This magic power accumulated on the earth bit by bit, and before anyone knew it, the city itself had become a vortex of magic.

So that's how it is. The reason why the ancestor of the Volgograd family called humans worker bees is very clear.

People seeking work come to the city one after another, looking as if they are trying their best to share magic power with the city.