Does the mechanical girl dream of the Messiah?

"Gate number five too?!"

However, the signalman's expression told him that things were not over yet.

"Gate 3, Gate 4... Gate 7, Gate 11, Gate 12 all opened on their own! Gates 10 and 15 also... the casualties are unknown! Gate 11 sent a report that they can no longer hold on!"

"Damn it! What the hell is going on!"

The nervous expressions of the guards around him made his heart tremble. The only news coming from the signalman was nightmarish. Incomprehensible situations one after another weighed on the commander's mind, making him feel as if he was suffocating.

He suppressed his despair and anger, and shouted orders: "The battle line can no longer be maintained. Send a message to all the survivors in this brigade, and have them evacuate the city according to the original plan. Is the rearguard squadron ready?!"

"The... the rear squadron was attacked and completely wiped out!"

"What did you say?!"

"Gate No. 2 is also open! More undead are pouring in - they are joining the attack at the main gate! They are pouring in!"

"Let the soldiers evacuate immediately!"

"That's it——"

Before the signalman finished speaking, he was interrupted by a huge wave of noise.

The fire, smoke, air currents, and massive explosions, the overly dazzling flames almost burned the commander's retina, and when he barely blinked and looked back at his command post - there was almost nothing left there.

Relying on the temporary command post built on the street, it was almost impossible to survive when half of the street was blown up. The spellcasters in black robes continued to move forward silently, as if they were just stepping on ants on the roadside and it was not something worth worrying about. Those who were affected by several fireballs but did not die on the spot, their conditions were much more miserable than those who were killed on the spot: half of the body was burnt but not died on the spot, and the body was hit by the collapsed rocks but did not die. No matter which one, they could only die slowly in extreme pain.

However, their commander was still alive, as were a small number of soldiers, so they could clearly see what was going to happen next - at least, the explosion just now helped clear their vision.

"Gu... Is there anyone still alive...?!"

Even so, as a man, the commander did not intend to give up.

We can still organize our forces, and make one last stand. We might even be able to seize the opportunity to carve out a bloody path.

Gulp——uh——

No one responded to his command. There were indeed many soldiers still alive, but they all stood there in a daze, trembling, and even forgot how to hold their weapons.

The only response he got was a strange sound coming from the shadows in the ruins.

Mmmmm--Mmmmm--

No matter how tense the situation was, no matter how the army of wizards, undead and soldiers lined up in a neat formation like a guard of honor, holding high the trophies torn from the living, and walked through the wide street at the main entrance, there would always be people who would be surprised and curious about this sound and want to find out where it came from.

And they soon found out the answer.

It was not a single creature, but a terrifying cluster. Those things looked like humans who were magnified several times, crawling on all fours, with huge front paws. They had oval heads, and their faces were hardly similar to those of humans. It was like the ugliest parts of humans and dogs spliced ​​together. They had no hair on their bodies, as if they had just crawled out of a grave, like rubber covered with moss and rotten soil.

That's right, if Lunicia were here, if April Enzolier, Andy Maxima, and Jesse Devam were here, they would immediately recognize the true identity of those things - they are zombies.

Not one, not two, not three, not four, but a tide of gray half-dead beings emerged from nowhere, as if the ruins had been their nest. Pairs of gray, lifeless eyes, under the gradually rising blood moon, looked like countless bloody stars.

Listen to their guttural sounds, their ventriloquy - those are the sounds of hunger, they are calling for food, and food is also attracting them. They are called ghouls, but that doesn't mean they only eat graves. Look, they are rushing towards the living in groups, using their claws, mouths, and fangs to rip open the stomachs, tear the skin and flesh, and suck the marrow from the bones. Everyone is so shocked that they lose their language, their movements, and their room for resistance. They wave their hands in vain and finally become food.

--why?

His vocal cords were torn, his trachea was broken into two, and his carotid artery was gushing blood. He couldn't utter a single word and could only shout and question in his heart.

Why? Why? Why?

Why did it turn out like this, why did the city gate suddenly open, why did so many difficult to resist enemies suddenly appear, why did they have to defend the gate with only so many troops, when the original mission only required them to project fire from inside the city wall, and it was originally agreed that there would not even be the possibility of close combat, why did they suddenly give the order to withdraw the city wall, why did the Gate of Erumu, which was said to never fall, fall like this ridiculously?

—Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

His flesh was torn, his bones were broken, and he was turning into food. Even so, the commander still stared ahead with his only remaining eye, staring at the city gate avenue that could be seen directly because of the bombing. He could not understand, could not understand what was happening, could not understand what went wrong, and who was responsible for such a situation. Because he could not understand, he refused to give up resistance, refused to die, even though his brain became incomplete, he was still struggling to die.

——Why why ...

————Until he saw "that".

I saw the undead and the living standing side by side, I saw the wizard and the soldiers forming a line, I saw "the one" surrounded by skeletons, zombies, vengeful spirits, ghouls and living people, I saw "the one" at the center of the army, like an emperor returning home - wearing a black robe that was still completely eroded by the years, torn and dirty, almost decayed, as if it was a burial object in an ancient tomb, his face hidden by a pitch-black hood, two scarlet pointed ribbons hanging from his shoulders, on which were sewn a complex and dazzling diamond pattern with bright yellow silk thread, and the center of his body was inlaid with gold and gems, and that shape, that pattern, seemed to be indicating something, as if proclaiming something.

It was a red eagle with two claws and two wings, flapping its wings and holding its head high. In its claws was an iris. Its expression was arrogant, and it looked down upon all things in the world equally. All living beings were just dust under the devil's web.

The black aura that symbolizes the undead is almost solid around it, turning into endless black mist. As long as you get close to the existence covered by the robe, the living will gradually turn into the dead, and the dead will stop decaying and embrace eternity. The living and the dead are the same in front of it. Everything is weightless, too light and too small, and everything is dust that is not worth mentioning.

Just by seeing "that", the incomplete brain understood and knew what it was.

——That’s the lich, that’s “Alexis Pentelier”.

His vision quickly sank into darkness, into the belly of the ghoul.

……

…………

........................

"The main gate...actually fell..."

Miriam von Ivanov put down the telescope and couldn't help muttering. He didn't act immediately, even though the smell of blood was so strong that he could smell it from here, even though the thick smoke was visible to the naked eye, even though he could feel the terrifying pressure coming from half a city away - he still couldn't make a decision all at once.

Lacking in independent thinking, courage, and indecision, these labels have been attached to him almost since childhood. For Miriam, making a decision like "abandoning friendly forces and civilians in the city and evacuating with the remaining troops" is almost as difficult as giving up his own life.

It wasn't necessarily because of the possible responsibilities he had to bear - the inferiority complex was the straw that broke the camel's back. He didn't think he was as great as his seemingly frivolous brother, great enough to bear so many lives, great enough to sacrifice so many lives, he just felt that he didn't have the ability to make such a decision.

Wandering and pacing, he handed the magic item for communication to his adjutant.

"If the enemy has already attacked us while I'm away... forget about me and just retreat with everyone."

"Yes! ... No, then what are you going to do, sir?"

"Don't worry." Miriam forced a smile. "I'm just going to see my father and will be back soon. I'm just saying this just in case. Do you remember the retreat route?"

"..."

The adjutant opened his mouth but said nothing. Finally, he nodded solemnly.

As for Miriam, she had already turned and left.

Leaving the fortress at the border of the Royal Gardens, passing through the maze of trimmed trees, it seemed as if even the walls woven of shrubs could hear inexplicable whispers, but Miriam seemed to be deaf to them, just walking forward, running, rushing through the fences he had walked over and over again in his childhood. When he was young, he had no awareness or cognition, but now, he felt that these half-dead branches and leaves were terrifying and chilling.

Approaching the cold and spacious palace, this magnificent but old building now appears even more hazy under the light of the blood moon, as if it is not a building, but some kind of sleeping beast, waiting to devour the person who pushes the door in. Miriam still seems to feel nothing, he reaches out his hand, as he has done time and time again, and pushes open the door that belongs to his own family.

Cold and empty, such descriptions are worth repeating. The people here are either dead, have already fled, or are still on the front line, turning into souls sacrificed in blood. There are probably only two people here, one is called Miriam von Ivanov, and the other is called Carida von Ivanov. The bloody moonlight shines in from the outside through the huge glass windows, reflecting one weird and indescribable oil painting after another on the smooth marble floor. Miriam raised her head and looked at the red carpet stairs leading directly to the inner courtyard, neither speaking nor looking sideways. He could hear, hear the gentle but abrupt female voice, singing a song that was very familiar to him, playing the piano that had been ignored for more than ten years and was already covered with dust.

Ah, that was his mother, that was his mother's singing, but he still seemed not to hear it, as if the singing was no different from the horrible whispers in the fence. He just pretended not to hear it because he didn't think his steps could be held back by it.

He climbed the stairs, walked through the long corridor, passed through doors that opened on their own even though no one was inside, and finally arrived at the audience hall. The throne had left its proper position at some point, revealing the unknown mechanisms underneath: a staircase leading directly underground, with only a few torch lights showing through.

Miriam did not express his surprise: such a mechanism was not surprising to him, and there should be something like this in the ancient palace. He was silent and just walked down the stairs.

The old brick walls, the worn-out torches, the lack of unnecessary decoration, even with the touch of firelight, the scene was still chilling. The uneasiness grew as the distance he went down, and his confidence and hope were suppressed. Miriam's steps still did not stop - until he saw his father.

The furnishings in the basement were much simpler than he had expected - no paintings, no statues, no jewel-inlaid boxes and jars, only several huge bookshelves filled with ancient books, a stone chair, and a strangely shaped stone bed in the middle of the basement, which looked like a stone basin was placed on it. His respected father, Carida von Ivanov, was now sitting on the stone chair, looking at Miriam expressionlessly.

There was no expression or words, no surprise or worry, as if he had already known that the other party would come here.

Chapter 25: Where Destiny Meets (Part 1)

“Father!…”

Miriam opened his mouth, but when he saw the expressionless face of his father, Grand Duke Carida von Ivanov, which could not be called gloomy but was difficult to describe with any known words, he suddenly found that he didn't know what to say.

It wasn't that he had forgotten why he came here, but what should he say?

The unfavorable situation in the city? The defeated army? The fallen gates and walls? The unknown powerful enemy? What to do next? Escape or fight to the death? No, no ...

It’s not that he doesn’t want to hear about the failure—he knows it all.

He knew it all, so he didn't want to hear any of it a second time.

Although there was no verbal communication, Miriam understood it immediately when their eyes met, and that's why he opened his mouth but didn't say anything. His words seemed to become pale and powerless, thus losing their value, as if to tell him that he didn't need the ability of language, he just needed to listen and do everything he heard, and that was it. Anything else was an offense and blasphemy, and shouldn't exist.

"Miraiam."

For the first time, the noble Grand Duke Ivanov spoke directly to him.

"come over."

It was not a suggestion, nor a discussion, and had nothing to do with the idea of ​​fatherly concern. It was the most direct and precise order.

From the very beginning, Grand Duke Ivanov had never been associated with the word "kind father", but now his tone was colder, more blunt, and more ruthless than ever before, as if the child in front of him was not a child related to him by blood, but a subordinate, or even a stranger with whom he had a bad relationship.

Miriam did not resist or express dissatisfaction. She just lowered her head respectfully as usual and then slowly walked towards the stone throne. If you still remember, you will remember that Miriam von Ivanov was often described as indecisive and lacking in independent thinking. This impression came from his inferiority complex. Even though his brother and sister took good care of him, it was impossible to eliminate this inferiority complex that had grown since his mother's death. That was why, no matter how his father, Grand Duke Ivanov, ordered, he would not and could not have any opinions. He would only do as he was told. No matter how confused he was, or what thoughts and hopes he had, he would only bury them in the deepest part of his heart and wait for them to rot and disappear.

When he reached the stone bed, Grand Duke Ivanov raised his hand and signaled him to stop, and Miriam did the same. After that, Grand Duke Ivanov stood up and walked over, looking Miriam up and down in an unbearable silence.

"good."

It seemed like a summary word, which only made Miriam feel confused.

Not bad - what are you talking about? Since her mother's death, her father's attitude towards her has become increasingly cold. It's not that he hates her or is hostile to her, but that he is just a stranger to her. There is no scolding, and even conversation has become dispensable. It seems that from that day on, until she went to the countryside around Twick and became a pastor of a country church, Miriam has not been able to say a few words to her father, let alone praise him.

That was why he did not feel happy about being praised, but only felt confused.

However, Grand Duke Ivanov did not seem to intend to explain, nor did he intend to make Miriam understand.

He simply raised his hand—and grabbed Miriam's head.

"...?!"

Just before he was about to shout something, Grand Prince Ivanov raised his other hand.

What happened?

Neither of his senses could bring him a definite answer, his ears did not catch the exact sound, his eyes did not see the accurate image, as a powerful war priest, all he could see were nameless afterimages that flashed across his retina - he could not know the true situation of the process, nothing that could make him realize, only the final result brought by the sense of touch could make him understand what happened.

His artery was cut and blood gushed out uncontrollably, spraying everywhere.

"Um... ah..."

He instinctively wanted to reach out his hand to block the cut, and instinctively wanted to use the healing mantra to heal himself, to change the outcome before the injury became completely irreversible - but before he could actually take any concrete measures, the hand that was holding his head pressed down hard, causing him to fall headfirst into the intricately carved stone basin, and the bright red blood spurting out of the carotid artery no longer sprayed aimlessly, but instead flowed into the basin in an orderly manner, soon forming a pool of bright red blood in it.

"I'm so sorry, my son, Miriam."

If understood literally, he was apologizing, but in Miriam's ears, he could not hear the slightest apology or guilt. His tone was the same as usual, cold and stiff, as if what he said now was no different from any other time, as if what he was doing now was not killing his own son, but any insignificant thing he had ever done.

——Is that so? Is that really the case?

In a trance, Miriam felt an extremely obvious sense of disharmony, as if the Grand Duke Ivanov, his father, who was speaking, was no longer a complete person, but was split into two halves, as if the first and second words he said could express two completely different emotions at the same time, first pain and care, then indifference and alienation, and then transformed into love and compassion.

Almost in an instant, he understood one thing:

His father now had for him the loving concern that a father should have, but also the contempt and indifference that a stranger had.

This fact did not bring him any comfort. On the contrary, his body, which was already in more and more pain due to blood loss, trembled more violently. Of course, as a son, knowing that his parents had the love they deserved for him, and not really as distant as they had always shown, was indeed something he should be thankful for. However, the Grand Duke Ivanov in front of him, with thick silver-gray curly hair, a goatee, a square face, and a majestic appearance, wearing a luxurious robe, could have both kindness and cruelty in his heart.

If a person has one of the emotions of kindness or cruelty, then he is a gentle parent or a ruthless enemy. If a person for some reason has both love and hate towards another person, then at the same time, he can only show one of the emotions: either love overwhelms hate, or hate overwhelms love. Ultimately, there is a dominant emotion that determines this person's actions.

But if a person can show two completely opposite emotions towards another person at the same time, then there is actually only one possibility.

He has gone crazy.

"And as proof of my apology, I will let you die clearly, Miriam."

With flaxen curly hair and blue eyes, a soft face, excellent talent and family background, she is now at the age when she should have made great achievements. However, there is only one thing Miriam von Ivanov can do: shiver on the pale and evil stone bed in a strange and unknown basement, shedding every drop of blood, and letting her breathing and consciousness gradually become blurred and cold. He has no idea what his father is saying or doing. The world has suddenly become so distant and hostile, and he can only be pressed here, trembling helplessly, just like...

——Yes, just like livestock.

As her consciousness flickered, Miriam seemed to suddenly understand something.

"I first cut open the neck of my wife, your mother, and then peeled off her face. This was the first step required by the ritual."

His words still contained regret, longing, love and deep indifference at the same time. These completely opposite and contradictory emotions mixed together, boiling in the cauldron, gurgling and emitting turbid bubbles.

Hearing this, Miriam, who was firmly suppressed, suddenly struggled, but he had lost most of his strength due to excessive bleeding, and the so-called full-struggle struggle was just a slight and unnoticeable shake. Grand Duke Ivanov was completely unaware of it, and just stood there, continuing to speak to himself:

"Next, I will chop off Erica von Ivanov's head, grind her head and body into a paste, process it with spellcasting materials, and paste it in this stone basin. This will complete the last indispensable instrument of the ritual. This is the second necessary step of the ritual."

Erica von Ivanov, that was the name of Miriam's sister.

He wanted to struggle, but the last bit of strength he had left didn't allow him to do anything. The little strength he had left could only barely keep him breathing and squeeze his heart to allow more blood to flow out of his arteries, as if to wait until every last drop was gone.

One day when he was still young, his gentle and loving mother disappeared. Her scorched clothes seemed to indicate that she died in a fire in the side hall. After that, the relationship between his brother and father became increasingly distant. Not long after, his sister also disappeared in the vast palace, which became the opportunity for Roy to officially leave the family. Since then, Miriam has been hoping to find out the truth about his mother's death and to find his missing sister, but he never thought that he would understand everything in this way and on this occasion.

The vision was no longer blurry, replaced by endless darkness. The pain was gone, and only endless coldness lingered on the body.

The feeling of death is so close that even consciousness is unclear, only hearing remains clear.

"Your brother, Roy von Ivanov, did not give up his family name, but when he left here, he could no longer be considered the heir to this family. The ritual required me to peel off the skin of my beloved, make my blood relatives into magical instruments, and finally offer my dearest child as a tribute. He has nothing to do with me anymore, so you are the only child I love, Miriam."

--Very good.

For some reason, when his consciousness was about to fade away, Miriam von Ivanov could not feel any hatred, resentment or confusion in his heart. Only one last thought remained in his mind: