Chapter 2

5

One man once said that ideals and reality are always very different.

More than a thousand years have passed since I stepped onto the ground with my feet, and the seventh god has arrived at the throne. I watched my good friend, the unique Black Emperor, fall from heaven, and witness the birth of the glorious era in His hands. I witnessed wars sweeping over the earth, and the people struggling to survive in despair, leaving behind my favorite scene of desolation and decay. Then, in this peaceful era, I am sitting in the window seat of a affordable cafe in Beckland, waiting for the person arranged by the editorial department to come.

Yes, I am an angel. I am at work.

My job is to provide scripts and novels for theaters and magazines. I work because I lack money and I am bored. The purpose of self-proclaiming the identity of a demon has been achieved, so the complete destruction of the previous sect is not a big deal. The sect I re-founded in the fifth century grew wildly and bought industries between war and peace, which undoubtedly requires a lot of money. They have not been able to afford to buy them for a long time since the death of Rossel Gustav. And my allies are also very poor, and cults are always poor.

I once asked when He was awake: “Are all evil gods so poor?”

He replied slightly melancholy: "That's right. Let's get through the Second and Fourth periods. Since the Fifth period, many ways of obtaining resources and money have been regulated, and funds have limited the expansion of sects and believers."

At this time, I heard His believers praying and conveyed thoughtfully: "Your saint said that the activities are insufficient and want to seek your guidance."

He was silent for a moment, and then he spit out such unsentence-like murmurs such as "sown,z,ow@nswo!nsn,ds,kankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankankank

It's so miserable. How do Bishops of Rose make money? Do they need to use flesh and blood magic to sell their skills? So I said, "I'll sponsor a small plantation."

"Okay." He answered immediately without thinking, and then paused, and continued to murmur in an overwhelming way.

6

The editorial department arranged the person who seems to be the current best-selling novelist. I have seen her. Her decadent and self-deprecating appearance and her soul that were once contaminated with contraband can make a demon feel a little favor. The only disadvantage is that she is not really willing to fall, and she has a strong desire to survive under her seemingly lifeless appearance, which is particularly annoying.

The wind chime at the door sounded, and I looked up and watched the young woman with long brown hair, with a slightly curly hair, walking quickly and sitting opposite me.

"Good afternoon, Miss Forth Wall."

As a polite gentleman, I stood up and greeted her: "It seems you have brought an interesting enough story."

She smiled tiredly when she heard this, and the dark circles and the late half hour exposed the fact that she was rushing to make a manuscript. Miss Fors sat down, took out a thick manuscript paper from her bag and placed it on the table.

It was quite a lot. I took a look at the three centimeters thick paper. Although the acquisition of information could be completed in an instant, I, who plays a human, had to pretend to read them word by word. It should not be too fast or too slow. I also had to express the posture that humans should have when reading with various expressions and movements. I hope this story is really interesting - I took it with a smile, pushed my glasses and started to check it out - I had to finish it quickly, and later today I would report on His God's descending to my crazy allies, and communicating with Him often wastes a lot of time listening to His murmuring.

For this reason, He gave me a seal, both as protection and as a symbol of alliance. It is a small cross, an object he held when he was still the "sun", which can effectively resist the influence of pollution and whispers, including all kinds of filthy spiritualities.

This is an impeccable gift, but...

But I am, "devil".

At least I am an evil person who gave me this seal and asked me to carry it in close proximity. After hearing the news, my first reaction was "He does not trust me" and "He is testing my true path". I was cautious for at least ten years. Later, I confirmed through daily conversation that He did not think so much at all, and He just didn't really think.

It was too much like a clergyman on my chest, and I was not a believer of the Hanging Man. In the end, I chose to make this small pure cross into earrings.

7

Forth Wall reached out and pressed his eyebrows, and his eyes hurt a little. During the week's deadline, she spent the first six days leisurely, at the cost of staying up all night last night, and she was still writing hard until the first half of the hour after she arrived. Procrastination is not cured, and it will never be cured in this life. Only by rushing to the deadline can she submit it on time.

She yawned a little, ready to finish the chat soon and go back to take a break, and squinted her eyes and looked at the collaborator sitting opposite her.

Mr. Edward Vaughan is a well-known writer in Beckland. He often accepts commissions to write operas and occasionally novellas as required. However, most of his works are very formal, implicitly tragedy and many ironies. He was very popular in his early years. Nowadays, most people yearn for light comedy operas or dramas with stronger entertainment nature. His audience is often just equally serious academic scholars and old-fashioned gentlemen.

I was not sure to cooperate with such a scheming, uh no, serious senior... The female writer who is best at attracting attention with romance novels grabbed her hair. Alas, but the cooperation of the script this time was rewarded with a generous reward. If it ended smoothly, I could plan my New Year's trip plan at the end of this year, and maybe I could take Fu together...

"Miss Wall."

The other party's soft call interrupted her random thoughts.

"Miss Wall."

Forsi was stunned, raised his head and found that the other party was staring at him. The eyes were black, and there was a dark light behind the lens, like a void, and the dark iris almost merged with the pupils, making it difficult to distinguish.

"Yes." She was a little embarrassed, "What's wrong?"

"According to your plot, in a couple who love each other deeply, the male protagonist died of a misfortune. The female protagonist was extremely sad and determined to avenge her lover." Mr. Edward held up his glasses and spread a page of manuscript paper on the table. He read it very seriously. "But the poor female protagonist has limited abilities. In the end, it was their friends who came to help to arrest the murderer... Miss Wall, I remember the editorial department's request was a comedy."

"It's indeed a comedy." Fors sat upright with a little embarrassment. "With her help, that friend caught the murderer and gave him the punishment he deserves. Isn't this comedy? Ah, sorry, I'm involved in drama creation for the first time, and maybe there is some error with your understanding..."

"Young lady, such an ending is not a comedy."

Mr. Edward Vaughan commented: "...there is no tension and lack of explosive power. Since you want to take revenge, why can't this poor lady kill the enemy yourself? Although she is weak, she is not weak. The power of hatred and love will make her extremely powerful. If she succeeds, everyone will applaud her beautiful appearance of joy and tears in the blood of the enemy. If she dies for this, it will be a moving tragedy. The revenge of weak defeats the strong and righteous is the audience's favorite plot. I believe you should have watched "The Return of the Earl". I like it very much, this famous drama by Emperor Rossell."

"You're right." Forre thought, "It was my first attempt at script creation. I forgot the difference between novels and dramas, so I was not bold enough. I'll go back and make changes... I'd like to ask if there are any other suggestions?"

"No, Miss, your writing style is very good, but the plot has dragged it down because of caution and conservatism." A gentle smile on the dark brown-haired middle-aged gentleman was involuntarily relaxed. To get close, he sorted the manuscript paper intact and returned it to Forth. "I look forward to the final result of my cooperation with you."

If this script is successfully bought by the theater, I can get at least 30% of it, which is nearly 100 pounds! It's great. It seems that this year's New Year trip is ready, not only can I take it for a break, but maybe there will be a balance! Of course, the most important thing is to go back to sleep quickly - Fors was very happy and immediately replied: "Thank you, Mr. Vaughan."

8

“You are the nature of withering.”

"You are the great being behind the curtain of the shadows, you are the monarch from the land of darkness."

Amid the layers of prayer, a voice overwhelmed them. Edward calmly stirred the coffee at hand, added a piece of sugar cube and a spoonful of milk, and raised it to his mouth and took a sip. His pure black eyes looked at the street outside the glass wall, reflecting the crowds like a mirror. After Fors left, He stayed here and did not leave, drinking coffee while enjoying the city scenery in the afternoon, waiting for the call of his allies.

"You are the merciful Edward Vaughan who stares at the eyes of the creature."

Edward looked around and his eyes were far away to the place where the prayer came from. In the almost dull room, a man standing quietly in the shadows was standing. From his body, he was a man with a long hair slid down from the corner of the hood covering his face, revealing only a little outline of his face, looking soft and weird, almost like a woman. This is an acquaintance, with many crazy believers under his allies, and he must be able to get on the list.

Mr. A felt the gaze from afar and continued to pray without changing his face: "...His Royal Highness, the Lord, the Lord, who had just arrived, has just arrived, and invites you to talk to His sanctuary."

Edward nodded and responded, "I get it."

He silently recited the name of the real Creator in his heart, and then felt a roar of chaotic murmuring sound in his ears. A wisp of consciousness was accurately positioned by the ally through a very distant distance, and then captured. When he opened his eyes, he had already stood in the deepest shadow kingdom of God. The constantly wriggling flesh and broken limbs were the floor under his feet, and the broken human body and bones were piled up and down everywhere. On the peak in the distance, there was an inverted cross higher than the mountain. The evil god hanging upside down was covered with blood. A blood-red vertical eye turned up and down for a few seconds, and then stared at him.

"Good afternoon, allies."

Edward used to it, and used the black cane of unknown material in his hand to push away the flesh and blood tentacles that were trying to wrap around His legs and feet, and a gentle smile still hung on his face: "You look in good condition now."

The voice of the real Creator rumbling, flesh and blood kneeled down, and the corpse trembled: "What's the situation?"

"Very smoothly," said Edward. "The seed has been planted, and the mother's emotions are stable, but the helper is not restless, and there are some traces of twisted fate. I will continue to watch you at all."

9

"By the way." After the detailed information exchange, I said, "While you are in good condition, should you try my new learning cake?"

Hearing this, the red eyes of the real Creator trembled violently. Before I could continue to say anything, He threw out the space where I stood, and I didn't even have time to sell a few more words. It was such a good way to end the conversation, and it would be useful next time - I returned to the cafe and heard His roar coming from the sanctuary intermittently, echoing in my ears:

"don't want!"

"It's unpalatable, British people... it's unpalatable, you can eat it yourself!"

It's so rude. I drank the cold coffee in one go, got up to check out, and was full of confidence in my behavior as a human being.

TBC

① The script is an accent of Daly, but you can imagine what will happen.

② Edward cooks very deliciously, but it is not delicious to play the role of a stereotyped "British". He is afraid of eating it. He is really good at: Don't be a human being.

(End of this chapter)
Chapter completed!