Serana had made it very clear; he was now just one step away from severing the Vampire bloodline, able to take that step at any moment. The person who decided this step was actually Simon; he had offered to help, but at the last minute, he was the one hesitating.
Simon smacked his lips. He hadn't even mentioned the Ebony Warrior he had encountered.
...
Brelina looked at the inverted Jonas with a look of horror.
She was clearly aware that everything she saw was an illusion, but this was different from a dream; it wasn't a private and spontaneous experience. This type of magical hallucination was like receiving a signal; everything seen had a basis in reality.
If everything before her was real—not referring to Jonas being hung from a tree, of course, but rather that Jonas's spirit had deeply merged with the earthbones—only then could such a strong personal imprint be visible to others... This represented a talent, an enviable talent.
Brelina knew this boy: diligent, lively, and humorous, with an adoptive father who was a great cook. He liked to exercise, but he hadn't shown any astonishing magical aptitude before.
The Dark Elf walked amidst the tidal, colorful clouds, as if strolling through a sea of sand. The sun, stars, and the twin moons and eight stars above all revealed their majestic forms between the deep black space and the brilliant nebulae. The banyan tree seemed to reach deep into the cosmos, yet also to support the firmament, every branch etched with beauty and ancientness. Just gazing at them, one would hear mysterious whispers, lost wisdom, like the chirping of insects and birds, the gurgling of flowing water, passing through the heart.
Brelina saw a searing flame transform into a massive tornado, reaching the clouds above and covering the earth below, leaving scorched earth for thousands of miles in its wake.
Ancient incantations exploded in her ears. She trembled, falling, and finally saw the boy trapped in the aerial roots slightly open his eyes, emitting a colorful, gem-like light.
...
Jonas looked around blankly. It was an unfamiliar room. The desk was made of stacked stones, and scattered papyri covered with black script flowed like a fountain from the desktop to the floor, spreading across half the room. A yellow flame burned on the ceiling, condensed into a fist-sized sphere, filling the space with light and warmth.
The boy's first thought upon seeing the room was messy, then broken, then dirty, then poor, then...
There was no 'then'; the room was simply too dire.
To Jonas's left, not far from the wall, was a thin black iron door with simple patterns on its surface. In the firelight, the door shimmered with suspicious colorful oily stains, perhaps contamination from some alchemical material. The boy showed disgust at this. In the corner of the room, some barrels were stacked, the ones further inside dirtier than the rest. The lids of the outer barrels were open, and a strange odor wafted out.
Jonas stood up from the stone stool. He was about to go out when the dilapidated iron door began to shake violently, emitting loud banging sounds. There was an uninvited guest outside, and the urgent knocking was very agitated and rapid.
A man with a gruff voice shouted something in Old Nordic. Jonas hadn't studied this obscure language much; he could read and write some basic sentences, but his listening comprehension was very poor. Faced with the current situation, he found himself in a predicament where neither understood the other.
The man outside rattled on like a machine gun. Jonas tried hard to listen, but the more he listened, the dizzier he got. Annoyed, he also shouted back at the person outside the door.
"Get lost!" After saying this, Jonas's Old Nordic vocabulary was pretty much exhausted. It was shameful to admit that when he learned foreign languages, the fastest things he mastered were various swear words, not only knowing how to say them but also with a certain clear articulation—all thanks to good teachers.
Only after cursing did Jonas realize his voice was old and hoarse. The hot-tempered man at the door suddenly fell silent, and the atmosphere instantly turned as cold as ice. Jonas was quite uncomfortable with such an unnerving silence.
He stepped to the door, reaching out to slide the bolt. The fingers of this body were withered and thin, like a piece of gray-black old wood, mottled with ink, and dull to the touch. The bolt was filthy, but this hand was clearly dirtier. Jonas had originally intended to wrap his sleeve around the bolt, but now, seeing the situation clearly, he gave up trying to be careful.
Pushing the door open, Jonas met the gaze of the man who had been knocking. In the dim light, behind the newcomer was an unlit circular corridor that led directly to the snow-swept outdoors. The light of day had not entered this stone house. The firelight from behind Jonas cast his shadow onto the young man's face, creating strangely concave and convex black shadows on the sharp, mountain-like contours of the man's features, while the man's eyes were bright, like an eagle's.
Jonas looked down slightly at the fellow before him. Although his current body was old and disheveled, it was not only very tall but also undoubtedly exceptionally imposing in appearance. The man with eagle-like eyes lowered his head on the third second of their gaze.
"Father," the man said. Jonas understood this sentence, but what followed, the man's urgent arguments, left him bewildered: "Elder brother... unfair... dangerous..."
Jonas's silence evidently led to a misunderstanding. The man stared at his father with angry eyes, then stormed off, running into the snow and being swallowed by nature.
No sooner had the previous fellow left than, before Jonas could catch his breath, another group of uninvited guests arrived.
Leading the way was a very tall and handsome Nord old man. Although his hair was completely white, his complexion was ruddy and his spirit robust. He wore luxurious and intricate animal skin clothing, adorned with various gold and silver ornaments, and a crown of animal teeth on his head. Such an attire exuded vitality; the clothing had a soul, a language, transforming into a strong visual signal that constantly conveyed a sense of noble class. Even a pig dressed like this would inspire genuine awe.
Jonas, seeing this fellow, also immediately felt awe. The guest and the original owner of this body were old acquaintances, and they began to exchange greetings upon meeting. Behind the newcomer followed tall soldiers and mysterious mages, whose gazes towards Jonas were also filled with reverence.
"Thus and so... this and that..." The old man mumbled, smiling and patting Jonas's arm. Jonas didn't understand a single word, because this high-ranking fellow used archaic phrasing and even interspersed long passages of Dragon Tongue. The boy, regretting his lack of knowledge, could only try his best to act.
"Mm-hmm, ah, oh, haha..."
After a period of calm and collected observation, Jonas successfully exhausted the other party's patience.
King Harald showed a disappointed expression, "Gauldur, you are still so kind, but honest words are harsh to the ear. We two have known each other for many years, how could there be any deception? Be very careful of the thief by your side. When it is time to cut ties, cut them, and do not let a love of the heart harm yourself. Your life is more important than a thousand armies; you must take good care of yourself.
"Furthermore, do not forget to attend the court seven days from now. Without you, the people will not be convinced."
"Hahaha, mm-hmm-hmm..."
"That's all for now. It's getting late. See you in seven days."
Jonas watched the old man leave, letting out a sigh of relief. He had finally bluffed his way through.
Fearing that someone else might come, he hastily moved to close the door. Alas, fate seemed to be against him. A roar came from outside, and then the door panel in Jonas's hand was punched off.
"Damn it!"
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