Mystery: The Ancient God is Actually Me

A thin mist filled the air, the night was deep and cold, the dim starry sky enveloped the old town, and the lingering cold mist surrounded the church spire.

Around the obelisk-shaped roof, dark crows hovered silently one after another, and from time to time bright stars appeared in the gaps such as the corners of their eyes and mouths.

There are a few buildings scattered around this strange church, including ordinary two-story houses, simple wooden houses, bakeries with hanging signs, and gray and white mills powered by waterwheels, but more The ruins of the overall structure were destroyed by charred black and smooth cut surfaces.

Some of their different houses are strangely grafted together, and some seem to be crumpled together by a strong external force. The bricks and wood cross each other, completely losing the appearance of the house.

The surrounding roads were dead silent, and there was not a single pedestrian. Looking at the dark wooden windows on the remaining intact houses, it seemed that the entire town had fallen asleep in this quiet and peaceful night, without exception.

Here, time seems to have lost its own meaning. The whole town seems to be buried with tombstones, but it can still prove the existence of an old era.

The sparse starlight on the sky was still moving, and gradually, the cold fog covering the whole town became heavier, and two phantoms slowly appeared in the dim night sky.

They are like the arms of a woman, not real, but they are actually affecting everything.

The arms covered by the short black hairs moved the velvet-like soft and dense night sky hard, and a round of scarlet slowly walked out from behind the scenes.

Passing through the layers of fog, only the faint crimson moonlight covered the town, and hoarse whispers sounded on the stone-built streets.

The illusory shadows walk out of the fog that can be seen everywhere, and the history before the destruction of the town seems to be reappearing. The residents with blank eyes are repeating the history that they can't go back to. Some walk into the house, some because of Lost his home forever and can only wander the streets.

The whole town was eerily peaceful.

They hurried past, but never approached the church in the middle of the town.

Squeak.

The old-faced, unremarkable bishop pushed open the closed door of the church. As if he did not see the strange residents outside, he greeted the few priests behind him and cleaned the dust in front of the door.

In the rather ancient church, the huge stained glass windows drape lightly with the splendor of the crimson moonlight refracting, sprinkled on the stone altar in the center, dyed red with the stubby black hair of the giant wolf.

"Damn, why is it time to bask in the moon again."

The giant wolf lying on the altar slowly got up, the eight giant claws spread out, the front body pressed down, and under the thick fur, the bones collided with a crackling sound.

As he moved his body, which was gradually becoming more comfortable, his huge body shrank suddenly, the stubby black hair was crowded into a ball, and the fluffy piece was spread on the altar, spitting out the inner softness little by little.

The young man, whose body was only covered by a tattered robe, stepped forward lightly, stepping on the cold stone brick with his white soles and walking forward.

He slowly opened his eyes, the dark eyes were deep and deep, no different from ordinary people, only the sides of his cheeks were clearly embellished with a little wolf hair, suggesting his identity.

The priest who was cleaning the church was still running around in the voice of the old bishop's inarticulate orders, and from time to time he walked past the young man.

But they didn't seem to see the young man who changed from a giant wolf, like a set machine, still continuing his work.

The red moon outside the church was still hanging high above the night sky, and the strange young man sat on the top step in a dejected manner. Pedestrians passing by on the street ahead turned their heads to him.

In the silence, illusory threads rose from these historical images, and the busy bishops and priests behind him were as still as stone sculptures.

He looked at everything in front of him, his eyes swept across the collapsed houses in the distance, the invisible barriers in the distance, and the lost ruins that had long been blocked. His eyes seemed to travel through history.

Holding such a different emotion, He slightly raised his right hand and scratched aimlessly into the air.

The warm hands grasped the cold hands of the young man, and Fran, who had taken off a red glove, silently watched the bewildered young man beside him, and sat with him, her light purple eyes revealing an undisguised expression. concern.

They clasped their hands together, admiring the "scenery" in front of them, but they didn't mean to communicate at all, until the projection from history reached its limit.

Fran's illusory figure gradually dissipated, and the unreal hands reappeared in the night, softly holding the red moon, and the town returned to a state where it was only surrounded by fog.

The dazed young man was still sitting on the steps in front of the church, but there was no one in front of him.

Click!

The scene where time seemed to have frozen shattered, and the giant wolf hidden deep in the church opened his eyes, and his icy vertical pupils reflected a strange crimson.

Antigonus got up slowly, moving his stiff neck and speaking in a bad tone.

"Damn, why is it time to bask in the moon again."

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