The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 287 Ch.286 Sacrificed teammates

Fernandez's squad's mission in Bristol is over.

This disaster-stricken land does not need an executive officer at the moment.

They need more "saints" and "laments". The former can rebuild people's faith, while the latter can earn everything related to funerals from huge corpses - and do the same thing as the Holy Cross.

The ritualists of the Maelstrom are not too active.

In their view, life and death are part of nature, and Bristol is inseparable from the gods worshipped and believed in by the Maelstrom.

Day three.

Fernandez finally woke up from his coma.

The wound that went through his lower abdomen didn't heal very well, but fortunately he was out of danger and was able to drink some water and eat something soft.

He didn't know what happened after he fell into a coma, so when Roland came in alone with flowers in his arms to visit him——

"Good afternoon, my captain."

As soon as I opened the wooden door, I saw Fernandez trying to stuff a box of cigarettes into his crotch.

Roland: ...

"They shouldn't have given you pants."

Fernandez was so happy to see Roland: "I knew you could survive! Thank you! They didn't tell me what happened. Since I woke up yesterday, I have been thinking about you and Kratov..."

He wanted to raise his hand to pat Roland's shoulder, but he grimaced in pain.

"Don't move."

Roland helped him adjust the position of his pillow and pulled up the quilt to avoid further injuries - some of the survivors might have caught a cold.

Frankly speaking, it is not easy for Fernandez to survive the 'death season' with such a serious injury.

"I had a dream, a dark sea."

Fernandez saw Roland covering the back of his hand with his hand, smiled and shook his head: "It's just the sea, Roland. I thought I would never wake up again, but I was worried about you and Kratov. Yesterday, they asked me a lot, but they didn't mention you and her at all."

Having said that, the captain turned his hand over and grasped Roland's wrist.

"tell me."

"You guys are alright, right?"

"Two alien species were fighting, and my team members all survived, right?"

However, the only answer he got was silence.

A long silence in which no miracle would happen.

Fernandez seemed to understand something. He quietly loosened his hand, took out a crumpled cigarette from the nearly crushed cigarette box, and took out a matchbox from under the quilt.

On the ignition point.

The rapidly expanding smoke broke through the blockade of silence all at once.

He sucked the cigarette into his butt in just a few puffs, put it out on the rough wooden table, and immediately took out another one and lit it.

He seemed to want to use the smoke to fill his broken lungs, let it spread to his internal organs, and stop the pain and sorrow that kept overflowing.

"It was my fault."

Fernandez's voice was hoarse and his eyes were blank.

"It was my fault."

he repeated.

"If I had been more careful..."

Roland lowered his head and patted his arm with his other hand: "It's not your fault, Fernandez. You tried your best. It was an alien, not a summoned creature of the Saint..."

The burly man looked like a punctured balloon, extremely depressed. "Yes, they told me that it might be an alien species...an ancient angel, right?"

Fernandez put out the second cigarette and took out the third.

Roland didn't stop him.

"But if I had been more careful, and not fallen for David Cromwell's trick, and had figured out that the chain was not real... maybe I wouldn't have been seriously injured, and you wouldn't have been left to face the danger alone..."

A ritualist with an occult organ, a ritualist with an occult organ that is biased towards combat, definitely has the potential to perform miracles.

As long as the power he faces is not so desperate.

"I should have been calmer and attacked the angel first..."

But it's too late to say anything now.

Shandel Kratov paid the price for his recklessness.

Fernandez thought back to the days long ago when he and the crows ran together.

A captain bewitched by evil cultists, a trap, and a desperate massacre.

He once swore that if he became a captain one day, he would never be like that woman...

"How did Kratov die, Roland?"

Fernandez used smoke to keep his voice calm, but Roland could still hear the trembling in it.

He really didn't like Shandel Kratov very much.

But they were also his team. She gave him her life, listened to his orders, and took the train with him from London to Bristol...

But he failed to bring the person back.

"To save me."

Roland said dryly.

He didn't mention the details, but Fernandez thought of countless details.

The spider leg might have pierced her heart, or cut a wound on her neck first; or cut off her hands and feet, or penetrated from the top of her head and came out from her chin...

The hand holding the cigarette trembled slightly.

"I'm sorry, Roland."

"Fernandez?"

"If I had been vigilant enough, maybe Kratov wouldn't have died." Fernandez sighed deeply, feeling somewhat melancholy. Death was the fate of an executive officer, but if possible, he wanted to delay this fate as much as possible. He even had an unrealistic wish:
Maybe, all his team members can leave the executive position alive.

When I get older, I can do other work in the court, such as clerical work or logistics...

"Kratov saved you."

He repeated.

"Yes."

"She is an excellent executive, excellent and brave..." Fernandez spoke slowly and low.

Roland agreed.

"I carried you on my back, and she was responsible for protecting me and our route..." Roland told Fernandez. She died under the blades of a group of spider monsters because she was the last one to leave.

That was the most undignified death.

She was probably chopped up.

Fernandez thought.

And these two people fell into such a state just to save themselves.

"You should have left me where I am and evacuated immediately."

Roland seemed to have heard an extremely bizarre story: "Don't be ridiculous, Fernandez. How could we abandon you?"

Yes…

Given the kindness of Roland and Kratov, they would not abandon themselves - as long as there was a glimmer of hope.

Although Shandel Kratov is a little bit "crazy", he can definitely be relied upon at critical moments.

Fernandez sighed again.

But I didn't continue smoking.

"If someone smells it, we'll be in big trouble." He pretended to be calm, forced a smile and pointed at the window: "Open a crack, Roland, I'm wrapped tightly."

Roland stood up in response.

crunch.

The loose door was pushed open.

pat.

Shandel, who had changed into a plain long skirt, carried a lunch basket and greeted the dazed patient on the bed with a smile:

"Good day, Captain Devinson."

The ward was extremely quiet.

Shandel blinked and looked at the young man who was leaning against the window: What happened?

Roland shrugged, walked around the bed, took the small basket, and placed it on the bedside to accompany the bouquet.

Fernandez deadpanned.

"Roland Collins."

"Ok?"

"Either she's a ghost, or you're a bastard."

"She's a ghost."

Fernandez: ...

Regardless of his injuries, he reached out to grab Roland.

—— came up empty-handed.

Someone not far away hopped a few times on one leg and even turned around twice on tiptoe.

Very clever.

Fernandez said kindly: "Come here, Roland."

Roland also said in a friendly tone: "How is that possible?"

(End of this chapter)