Chapter 85: The History and Legends of the Terrace
It was not until the moon passed the zenith and began to sink slowly that Matthew finally said goodbye to his cousin.【】
"Don't be in a hurry to read those hunting team training materials when you go back. You can first sort out the spells you have mastered since childhood... Remember to prepare a few more Dharma books." When Sir Friedman was sending his cousin off the terrace,
Gentle warning: "For hunters, the most reliable power on the hunting ground always exists in your Dharma book."
Matthew nodded repeatedly.
"Don't worry about magic potions and alchemy supplies. My club has a complete set of backups that you can use at any time."
“There is also a midterm exam, so you don’t need to pay too much attention to it... because it has a relatively low weight in the comprehensive evaluation at the end of the school year, so most professors will choose the in-class exam mode. As long as you complete your daily homework carefully, you will get the midterm exam.
Excellent reviews are not difficult.”
Matthew listened to his cousin's words absentmindedly, letting the alchemy doll help him put on a heavy cloak made of the Minotaur's head skin, but his eyes involuntarily slid over the fence in front of the terrace in the distance again.
Under the moonlight, the lifelike banshee statue on the railing seemed to move and tilted its head a little toward the room.
The young vampire couldn't help but narrow his eyes.
The banshee statue returned to its original state, as if the scene just now was an illusion.
"Are there really monsters inside?" Matthew finally couldn't help his curiosity and looked at his cousin: "I mean, are there really monsters sealed inside those railings?"
As soon as the words came out of his mouth, the young vampire immediately regretted them.
He should not mention these baseless nonsense in front of his cousin.
But Sir Friedman's reaction was beyond his expectation.
Jazz followed Matthew's gaze towards the fence and was slightly startled, but did not immediately laugh at his cousin's slightly childish question.
After a moment, Sir finally spoke slowly and said, "Maybe...maybe not. Who knows?"
This answer made Matthew's eyes widen.
He turned his head involuntarily and looked at the terrace under the moonlight.
The vines clinging to the foot of the railing spread out their wide leaves and trembled in the evening breeze. The trembling shadows of these leaves were left on the marble floor of the terrace, as if demons were thrown into hell, struggling in the endless abyss.
"That terrace has been there for a long time since the first Karen moved into this lounge... This room was originally the office of an old professor at Alpha Academy."
"Later, the professor disappeared. It happened that at that time, the Cullen family won the war with the O'Brien-Black coalition and was able to ask for a rest room in this castle... so this room finally came to an end.
It’s in our hands.”
"According to some documents I found in the house, the old professor once received the 'Outstanding Contribution Award' from the Wizards' Union in recognition of his great contribution to the exploration of the new world... According to the brief description on the base of the trophy,
Judging from the description, the old professor should have captured a complete 'pseudo-god system' in a new world and successfully brought it into the black prison."
"This terrace was polished bit by bit by the goblins with their fingers in order to commemorate the old professor's former glory... The seventy-two railings around the terrace represent the seventy-two false gods in the false god system.
."
"Since he is a god, he naturally has some kind of reaction."
"These railings, this terrace, and this room have a constant cause and effect with the seventy-two false gods... So, if you think there are any elves sealed in the railings, my answer is, maybe there is.
, maybe not."
"Who knows?"
"I always thought that this terrace was built by our Cullen family." Matthew raised his eyebrows and sounded a little surprised: "And there are rumors that it was the Cullen family who stuffed the souls of demons into these railings.
"
"You also said it, it's rumored." Sir Friedman handed the burgundy cup in his hand to the elf next to him, then took a wet handkerchief, wiped the corners of his mouth, and shook his head: "In this world, what you see with your eyes
It's not necessarily true... let alone a rumor? Putting aside the subjective emotions when reporting it, wizards don't have much history in the first place."
Sir's words were somewhat profound, and Matthew did not fully understand them for a while.
But this did not prevent him from continuing the brief conversation before parting.
"It turns out that there really are gods in the dark prison!" The young vampire's eyes sparkled, revealing a certain emotion that could be called 'desire'.
"Before you actually graduate from the First University, don't think about that place...don't even mention it." Sir Friedman rarely warned the young people in front of him in a stern tone: "That is a real abyss...for us
It is especially unfriendly to creatures under the moon who tend to have Yin attributes. Maybe you can only get rid of the negative influence of that place after surpassing ordinary registered wizards."
"At that time, if you are still interested in the Black Prison, you may consider submitting an application for defense assistance to First University."
…
…
When Sir Friedman and his cousin mentioned the dark prison that the demons hated most.
On the other side of this Alpha Castle.
It is also in a spacious lounge.
Someone also mentioned the name of Black Prison.
"The black jail is full of big shots."
"For example, those old and immortal demon kings, or the idols worshiped by the natives in the new world, or the great wizards who went too far in some experiments and accidentally became lichs."
"And we... we just resell some gadgets through the fishmen in Linzhong Lake Reserve... No wizard court will waste precious manpower and material resources to argue with young people like us."
The speaker was a fat man with a strong build.
His eyebrows are thick and light, and his eyes are small but very dark. This makes his eyes look a bit deep. Because of the two pieces of fat on his cheeks, he always feels laborious when speaking.
In other words, it gave him a very powerful feeling when he spoke.
Mike King Soprano never cared about whether others frowned when they heard him speak. He only cared about whether others understood what he meant.
At this moment, he was lazily sitting in a large armchair, raising his hands, looking at the huge luminous pearl on the wall, and carefully looking at the small ring-shaped snake on his wrist.
It was a colorful ouroboros.
A finger wide and thin, wrapped around his wrist, the snake's head biting its tail, meeting together above the pulse. As the pulse beat, the snake's head seemed to tremble with it.
There are always dozens of figures sitting or standing around Seprano.