Stray

    "What?" Nemo exclaimed, he didn't think that his current self was unbearably filthy, his hands were of course more important.

    "No matter what the reason is, it is your sin to cooperate with the superior demon, child." The monk's voice was still soft, and the genuine concern in his words made Nemo a little horrified. "You have remorse, so for a small price, God can forgive you—do you know what happens to demon warlocks in general? You still have a chance to live innocently, and I am sincerely happy for that."

    Nemo took a step back. No, this man doesn't look like old Patrick at all.

    "I was the one who was attacked." He lowered his voice, "I don't think I committed any crime."

    "But you have a choice, don't you? If you are really attacked for no reason, you have many ways to preserve your spirituality as a human being - you can cut your throat with a dagger, you can bite off your tongue or blood vessels .You can let the vile demons have time to make a deal and die a glorious and great death for my God - of course, I'm not condemning you, my boy. There are times when people are confused. You see, you came to me now in front of you?"

    "But I'm not loyal to you—" Just as he was about to express his position, Ann covered his mouth.

    "May the glory of Zeni last forever." Ann said solemnly, she let go of Nemo and wiped his hand on his robe. "Thank you again, the communicator of divine grace. He was just a little surprised, we will persuade him well."

    Oliver also nodded with a stern face, he firmly grasped the writhing grey parrot, and left the perfume shop with Ann. The door of the store closed automatically behind him, and the bell on the door rang softly. The monk made a prayer gesture on his left chest, picked up a soft cloth, and continued to wipe the delicate glass vial.

    "...he meant just now, would it be better for me to kill myself as soon as I was attacked by Bagmoru?" Nemo asked in shock after making sure they had gone far enough.

    "He really thinks so. I know the Laddism in Waymark doesn't have much influence...it's already the softest of Wodens. For the old school, they don't even have a reason I will ask, it is the most 'honorable' to kill you directly." Ann's face was not very good, "You better prepare yourself mentally. After all, the free monks are civilians who practice voluntarily. The trial knights are different. They were brainwashed from childhood to adulthood. —Cross is the knight commander, imagine for yourself."

    Nemo refuses to imagine.

    “But he did have a good idea,” Ann said.

    "What's the idea? Hold on, I'll make it clear - I love my hands and don't want to dedicate them to any **** at all."

    "You see, the Church of the Confessors must know something about Cross," she said. "And we have Oliver."

    "Me?" Oliver, who was fighting wits with the grey parrot, raised his head in confusion, and there was a grey bird feather on his face. "Can I help?"

    However, when they found a good place to live, Ann really answered this question. Even after getting Mrs. Edwards' deposit, she didn't lavishly enjoy it - the hotel they stayed in was probably the cheapest class on the edge of the capital, but as far as Nemo and Oliver saw it, it was better than anything they had ever seen. The rooms are to be refined and tidy.

    The sheets and pillows smelled of sunshine and were well groomed. Fresh fruits are stacked in wooden trays with drops of water, and large fresh flowers are in vase by the bed. There was no hair or other suspicious hair on the floor, not even dust. In front of the huge window is a bay window composed of oak and marble, and the green outside the window leaves a blurred reflection on the smooth marble surface. There was even a small altar on the table, with a statue of Zeni—a Radish deity with long, curly hair and a beard that gave him the majesty of an old man.

    Nemo fully displayed his adventurous spirit - he sat down on the bay window, leaning against the soft cushion, not wanting to move. Oliver, on the other hand, sat on the edge of the bed with a regretful expression, and was taken aback by the soft, sunken mattress.

    "Charm." God settled down in a chair, his legs crossed. "This can be done."

    "What?" Nemo straightened up, "Who, Oliver?" He failed to suppress the schadenfreude in his voice.

    Oliver frowned, not seeming to like the idea.

    "Don't think crooked." Ann grabbed a fruit and gnawed it, a little inarticulate. "Young man, you are full of vigor, I won't ask you two what kind of mess you have seen - in short, charm is not what you think."

    Both look away at the same time.

    "Alita on the Bridge is a masterpiece." Nemo protested in a low voice.

    "The author must not know much about magic." Ann said, "Come on, let me show you—"

    She swallowed the fruit in her mouth, rubbed her hands casually, and walked up to Oliver.

    "Look me in the eyes." she demanded.

    Nimo could see clearly from this angle, and Ann's iris instantly lit up with a golden shimmer. And Oliver blinked, looking at her puzzled. "and then?"

    "Ma'am..." As soon as she opened her mouth, she met Ann's twinkling eyes. She stared at them blankly, the smile on her face gradually turning blank.

    "Sweetheart, how old are you this year?"

    "Nineteen." The maid replied mechanically in a calm and unwavering voice.

    “Where is your hometown?”

    "Kenyatta in Garland. My mother is Al herself and my family grew up eight years ago from…"

    "Enough." He comforted the little girl's curly blonde hair, and the glimmer in her eyes dimmed. The young maid didn't seem to notice what had just happened, she blinked and put the pot beside the fruit bowl. Then he bowed slightly and exited the room.

    "That's it." She poured herself a glass of milk. "It's allure."

    "Oliver is not affected."

    "That's right. It can only dominate people whose magic level is lower than themselves and who are mentally defenseless." Ann said, "Oliver's magic level is higher than mine, so it has no effect on him. The greater the difference in the level of magic power, the better the effect of the charm, and the less likely it is to be discovered. Disarming is also very simple - just touch the object of the charm. My magic power may not be able to beat the old men of the Radism, so only Oliver here." She didn't seem to have any regrets.

    "...But the other party is a person who repents of the Holy See, so he shouldn't have no defense at all, right?" Oliver asked a little uncomfortably.

    "Important information will be mixed with hinting spells to resist charm when it is passed, but I don't think no one will pay attention to this gossip. Besides, the magic level of the gods of Radism has always been high , the will is also very firm, they generally have no troubles in this regard."

    "Wow, dear Oliver, you're going to charm the old men of the Holy See!" Nemo cleared his throat and recited in a bard-like tone. "May Zeni's glory shine on you, and I will write a hymn for you—"

    Oliver grabbed the pillow on the bed and threw it neatly into Nemo's face.

    "Okay," he covered his face and let out a sigh from between his fingers. "Teach me."

    Oliver is a quick learner. In less than five minutes, he was staring at Nemo with his golden eyes. "Loop around the room," he whispered gravely.

    Nimo took out his ears, "Your eyes are beautiful, Ollie, it's worth jumping ten laps." He said sincerely, "But I'm so tired today that I can't jump."

    Oliver diverted his target in disappointment: "Baggarmoru, roll."

    The grey parrot looked into Oliver's eyes dazedly, and rolled obediently on the tablecloth. The wicked smirk on Ann's face disappeared. She stared at Nemo, who was about to fight Oliver with a pillow, and held her breath.

    Niemo Wright was not guarded, but he didn't even show a second of confusion, which only means one thing - his magic level is higher than that of Oliver Ramon much more. It made no sense at all that Bagmoru, who was supposed to be the source of his power, was inferior to Oliver.

    Is that monk's conclusion really correct?

    She took a deep breath, pushing almost all the air out of her lungs. Hoping that her choice was right, Ann closed her eyes and prayed for a few seconds—hoping that her soft heart would not lead to a terrible disaster from the abyss.

    Practicing Charm is easy and enjoyable. But by the time they set foot on the steps of the Church of the Penitents at dusk, Oliver and Nemo's faces were as stiff as slate.

    "Can't tomorrow...? I think I can practice again." Oliver's eyes were blank.

    "You're skilled enough." Ann ruthlessly dismissed his request.

    "...Will we be recognized? Even if it becomes a black stamp, the wanted order will not be removed, right?" Nemo rubbed his face.

    "The Holy See in the capital of Garland doesn't care about third-order criminals on the border."

    "Am I really not going to get killed on the spot? In case, I mean in case—"

    "You are only here for consultation, remember. This is not a butcher's shop in the market. They will not chop your hand directly with a machete. No." An Mofang said, "I don't know which bishop you will meet, but the bishop's magic level is similar to mine at best - even if Oliver drinks too much, his monster-like magic will not let the other party perceive the charm. Magic! Hell, do you have to tell me clearly—" It doesn't feel good at all to admit that I'm not as good as the younger generation.

    However, the two juniors still looked worried.

    "I'm waiting for you outside - I've been in this business for too long, they might recognize me. Get in!" An Zhao pushed behind the two of them.

    The two swallowed together and rushed to the door. They pushed open the door with heavy hearts and squeezed through the crack of the door into the huge church. In the end, Rao was two unbelieving guys, and was so shocked by the majestic scenery in front of him that he forgot to breathe. The afterglow of the setting sun filtered through the stained glass and cast countless traces of light on the wooden floor. In the middle of the wall they were facing hung the religious emblem of the Radhist religion—three white feathers joined end to end, a beautiful triangle. Chenni's huge statue was much more elaborate than the one in their room, with its arms outstretched as if to embrace the visitor.

    Several monks were cleaning the rows of benches, and now they were looking up at the two of them.

    Nemo made a few "uh" sounds, but he couldn't squeeze out a word. On the other hand, Oliver calmed down first: "Please... Excuse me, is the Bishop here?"

    "The two are...?"

    "My friend was attacked by demons. We need to repent to Lord Bishop, er, repentance." Oliver recounted his prepared remarks, "I have to make sure that he is not overwhelmed by demons. "

    Although Nemo, who was looking around, didn't look unusual, the devout monks accepted this unconvincing rhetoric. One of them politely led the two to the left corridor of the church and told them to wait for a while in front of a certain wooden door.

    "The bishop is receiving the guests, please wait a moment for the two of you." The monk gave a serious salute.

    The corridors are bright and clean, the floors are spotless, and the wooden doors are beautifully embossed. With no blood, screams, and pine oil torches in the dark, Nemo breathed a sigh of relief.

    But he didn't take it easy for long.

     Footsteps and conversations sounded at the end of the corridor, mixed with a strange but terribly familiar sound, like a wooden wheel rolling over a smooth floor.

    Nemo turned his head sharply. The old man who looked like a bishop was walking toward them, except that he was not alone in that direction—Cahill Edwards was sitting in his wheelchair with an unstoppable gentle smile on his face.

    "What a coincidence, you two." He nodded at them, "We meet again."

    (m..=)