The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 192 Ch.191 Fairy Ring and Whipper

The sun is setting.

The golden-gray arc of light gradually blurred along the horizon.

A refreshing breeze blew across the wilderness, swaying the black hair on the young man's cheeks.

Also swaying were the ankle-high green grass, the rustling forest in the distance, and the Mirror Lake with the remaining afterglow like broken scales.

The wind is the wind, the grass is the grass, and the forest is the forest.

There are no living creatures here.

There was no 'Gold Pound Avalanche' or 'Shadow of the Owl Beast' - it was as if nature gently created everything it should create, and then, just as gently, erased the existence of all living things here.

Roland wanted to use the word "clean" to describe this dream.

Or in other words: ring.

He walked through the wilderness, bypassed a mirror-like lake, and entered a deep forest where treetops blocked out the sun.

He started from a starting point, letting the wrench draw a long straight line of flames in his sight—

He walked straight ahead along this straight line for about two minutes, or two hours, or two days, or two months.

The setting sun fades away and the silver moon rises.

Until the dark night was filled with star spots that flickered.

The warm gusts became cool and playful, occasionally brushing against his ears.

then.

Unconsciously.

He is back to square one.

Where I once stood.

He could see the lake and the swaying trees.

The marks he left behind stretched like wheel tracks into the distance.

Fairy ring.

A circular dream that connects beginning to end.

Roland twisted the silver ring on his little finger, and the characters on his wrist that should have disappeared became slightly hot:
He felt something in his heart, as if something was forced into his head.

It's a feeling of 'I can do it'.

"I can…"

Roland opened his palm and stared. Some light blue lines kept interweaving and gradually densely formed into a flat coin.

A plain gold coin.

It fell heavily into my palm.
-
wrench.

"This is the fairy ring."

The flames leapt across the dark wilderness.

"You are the one who holds the 'key'. You can use the 'mystery' of this dream to create what you want - lifeless."
-
Borrowing the 'mystery' from dreams...

"That's right."

"But I need to remind you."

"The Fairy Ring, like most dreams, exists in the world of sleep - but it is different from other dreams: its key is in your hands, and you and the candle are its true managers."

"Then this leads directly to a problem."
-
Let me think.
-
If the "Sleeping World" is regarded as a person, this person does not have to be responsible for the expenses of the tenants in his rented house...
-
right?

"correct."

"At every moment, countless dreams appear in the sleeping world, but at the same time, countless dreams are destroyed."

"If you use too much of the 'secret' of this dream, then you will have to find a way to replenish what it consumes - otherwise, this place will collapse."

"Dream collapse is very dangerous."

"If you plan to copy a city of London or half of Falkland, you need to provide your 'daughter' with enough 'energy', instead of using her identity as a manager to constantly absorb the few secrets of this dreamland."

Roland turned his head and said, "Only you and I can come here, right?"

The python coiled on Roland's shoulder nodded slightly.

She changed her body shape, but Roland couldn't feel any more weight.

"In other words, this is our 'home' in the sleeping world."

he murmured.

A home that only he had the keys to.

"marvelous…"

"I want to build a manor, or a castle."

"That requires a lot of mystery."

"I have plenty of time, Wrench." Roland raised his head slightly, the stars above his head shining brightly.

………………

Thanks to the existence of the "Fairy Ring", Roland had another place to go every night - a place other than the empty jungle.

With the 'mystery' that his body could contain now, if he allowed the small candle to devour it, he could add many walls to the fairy ring, or build a table, a few teacups, etc. every time.

A little adds up to a lot.

Roland discussed with Candle that she could give the 'key' to other people and take it back at any time.

As for the number of keys, it cannot exceed ten for the time being.

What makes Roland even more excited is:

There is no need for 'reasonableness' in dreams.

——He can build a stone tower that is narrow at the bottom and wide at the top, and ensure that it is strong and will not collapse. He can make an "iron rod" that is sharp without a blade, or a chair that has only two legs but is stable and will not shake.

Even a feather that is thinner than paper and heavier than stone.

As long as he puts in enough mystery, he can firmly fix the state of the item that he has 'set'.

I have to say, this is really interesting.

"I see you've already decided who to invite."
-
At least the apprentice, the spanner.

"Then there will be some waiting. Your Miss Snitch is not suitable for 'fantasy'. She can't push open your door."
-
So, do you know which path is suitable for her?

"People will eventually move towards their predetermined destiny."
-
I hate the word 'fate'.

Accompanied by the loud snoring coming from downstairs, Roland squatted in front of the open box and carefully looked through the human bones inside.

This is the body of old Williams that Rose brought. The depression behind the skull is the cause of death, that is, the mark left by someone hitting him from behind with a sharp stone.

He used his right hand as a whip, so the ritual only required bones from his right hand.

Draw the holy symbol of the Ninth Crown God on the floor, pour the blood of the Ultimate Joyer, light candles, and recite prayers.

Roland sprinkled the prepared white plaster powder on the floor.

First there is an irregular square.

Next, the inner circle.

Finally, a glass filled with liquid.

He dusted his hands, looked at the human bones scattered all over the floor, listened to the snoring in his ears, and unskillfully set up the "scene".

When the secret was finely ground and spread like dust, moist vapor rose in the house.

Wisps of white mist gradually spread over the ankles.

Getting thicker and thicker.
-
The secret of one ring is not enough to sustain for too long.

"Except for Eve's followers, there are few ritualists who can set up a scene with just one ring."

Roland pulled out the cork and spilled the blood on his hand bones.

Get down on one knee.

“…Pray to the Creator of flesh and blood, the beginning of separation and fragmentation, the end of trauma and healing.”

"My sublime succubus, the bottomless lake of aberration."

"Perhaps no one knows, but after the slanderous pen is made, the marrow-eating offspring will arrive at the cave of red dust..."

The pale flames, accompanied by the red mist that suddenly rose around them, left a series of distorted words in front of Roland.

He gradually raised his bloody hand bones, as if he was in a bottomless, constantly wriggling pool of mud and blood, and an invisible force was pressing and enveloping him.

Roland saw an illusion in the turbid blood-red canvas and the soft, squirming mist before him.

They were people walking barefoot and wearing conical hats.

They were in a huge crowd, some standing, some crawling, some lying or on their sides, and from time to time they would use long whips with spikes to whip the backs and limbs of the people in front of them or on their left and right - the skin was torn and the flesh was flying.

Apart from the prayers floating in the air where people walked devoutly, there were only bloodstains on the land.

They sang hymns with bitter looks on their faces, but were soon enlightened and suddenly saw the light.

This group of extremely devout Bloodstained people went all the way to the end of the Blood Swamp, and turned into nothingness in large numbers.

Qi Qi's roar echoed in Roland's ears.

He heard someone shouting:

'We are like pantomime actors, we go around in silence.'

'It is good to shed our blood for God, and this will deal with my sins.'

'But now, all this has become in vain...'

Snapped--!
The loud sound of whips mixed with the hissing of metal interrupted the shouting!

'Lord of Joy! My Mother!'

'Let this hand that wields the whip raise the thorns for you again!'

(End of this chapter)