Goblin Heavy Dependence

Chapter 76 Short Poem
There are many gods on the continent of Ephra, and their domains overlap a lot.

Unless they are those who have received higher education or are very interested in relevant theological knowledge.

It is basically difficult for ordinary people to tell the name of each god and his corresponding priesthood.

Therefore, in order to distinguish different gods in the most concise and clear way, it is convenient for the orientation and transmission of faith and to enhance its influence.

The holy emblem came into being.

Just like [Maiden of Pain] Lovietta's "Bloody Nine-Tail Whip" and [Storm Master] Talos' "Three Split Lightning Bolts"...

Every god has his or her own holy emblem that can demonstrate the power he or she holds to a certain extent.

The white human skull engraved on the cover of the strange leather book represents——

[Lord of Bones], [Reaper], [Lord of the Dead]

"Melkor."

The halfling muttered with a hint of disgust in his eyes.

As a member of the "Dark Gods", he is a powerful god who holds many powers including "the dead", "decay", and "dusk".

Melkor was vicious and cruel, keen to spread fear to every corner of the continent.

Almost every adult has at least one nightmare related to "skeletons holding sickles and wearing black hoods" and "undead spirits in the dead wilderness" in their memory.

This also causes his followers to often do some extreme and cruel acts, making people respect him but fear death, thereby enhancing the influence of the church.

The gloomy and evil doctrine and the power of the undead that corrupts the mind make him the master worshipped by a large number of "cultists".

Obviously, the gravekeeper in front of everyone was one of them.

"I have spent my entire life in the cemetery, and have watched countless dead people go to His kingdom of God. The most merciful and powerful Lord also left a gift for His most devout servant on that moonlit night."

The gravekeeper's shriveled and thin face was filled with fanaticism, as if even his broken right hand no longer hurt.

"Only this book?" the sheriff frowned and asked the other party.

"There is also a bone whistle that contains the power of the gods."

The gravekeeper suddenly looked at the deformed and twisted metacarpal bone in Xia Nan's hand.

Hearing this, although Xia Nan remained calm, his heart couldn't help but tremble twice.

real or fake?

I thought it was just an ordinary trophy, but how come it came from such a big name?
As if sensing his thoughts, Alton beside him stood on tiptoe, reached out and patted his shoulder, comforting him:

"Don't worry, this old man is not even the lowest level cultist."

"There was no need for torture to extract a confession. He confessed everything after just a stretch of his arms. He is not pious at all. How could he possibly receive a gift from the gods themselves?"

"Just take it and don't worry. You can sell it in the city later. It's no problem at all."

As soon as the words fell, the gravekeeper became excited.

"You, how dare you! How dare you despise my faith in the Lord!?"

His face turned red and he knelt forward on the ground, as if he was going to fight to the death if the halfling said one more word.

"Shut up!"

Ingram scolded.

The two guards next to him grabbed the other person's shoulders at the right time.

The gravekeeper immediately lowered his head and became as quiet as a quail.

"Look, I'll just say it."

The halfling curled his lips at Xia Nan, as if he had expected it.

On the other side, Ingram, standing in front of the gravekeeper, flipped through the leather book in his hand without any hesitation.

His belief in the sun god "Amaunator" and the holy light surging in his body made him not care about these ordinary undead powers.

His hands suddenly paused. He held the spine of the book with his fingertips and pointed it towards the gravekeeper:

"Where are these pages? Why were they torn off?"

"My Lord, I, I really don't know! When I heard the knock on the door that night and picked it up on the floor at the door, it looked like this."

His voice became weak and trembling again, and his thin body began to tremble again.

The force on the guards' shoulders became heavier and heavier, and the bandage on the severed end of his right hand had been completely stained red. The gravekeeper dared not to mutter in a mysterious way anymore, and instead spoke in plain words in a pleading tone.

The thin leather book had a strange touch, and the torn pages seemed to be the most crucial parts.

On the remaining pages, there was only a short poem written in blurry and faint handwriting, with a disordered structure and no rhythm at all:
"The moonlight is pale, the girl lies alone;

The whore, jealous of his beauty, took off her ring; the sailor, staggering, took off his shoes;
The pickpocket stole the bracelet in the night, and the merchant placed her anklet on the scale; the gambler's fingertips were stained with greed, and the pendant rolled silently; the old man with a broken body in the twilight of his life cut off her long hair;

The pagans in the wilderness dug new earth and buried her with their own hands;

Sink into darkness and sleep forever."

The poem is shallow and has no moral.

But the strong directionality in the words made Ingram, who had already immersed his mind in the case, react instantly.

"Whore, sailor, thief, merchant..."

Isn't this the identity of the victims who have been attacked one after another in recent times?
Even the accessories in the poems correspond to the body parts lost by the victims.

"So, Tim came in this order?" a guard asked after hearing the sheriff's thoughts.

"Not necessarily." Ingram looked thoughtful, "but what is certain is that he will definitely attack the remaining types of people in the poem later."

First up is “Gambler”.

With so many people coming and going in the Bag of Gold Tavern every day, every guest inside fits this identity to some extent.

It was impossible for him to protect everyone who had been to the tavern, so sending a few guards to guard the area near the tavern was the limit of what he could do.

trouble.

Then there are the “heathens.”

More difficult to handle.

In this continent with countless gods, a beggar on the street might be a devotee of some god.

The target is completely undetermined.

As for the last one, the incomplete old man covered in old age...

"Isn't there one?"

Xia Nan glanced in the direction of the gravekeeper and said casually.

"Dusk Qi" - consistent with the other party's identity as a gravekeeper and has touched the power of the dead;

"Incomplete" - half of his arm was cut off by himself, which is completely consistent;

"Old man" - needless to say.

After hearing what Xia Nan said, the sheriff's expression suddenly paused and he looked at him in surprise.

It seemed that he had not expected that he would be able to find someone who fits the identity description so quickly.

After a little hesitation, he opened his mouth and said:

"Now that you mention it, he does fit the description in the poem."

"but……"

"But I was thinking of someone else."

(End of this chapter)