Chapter 872 Norwegian Christmas Roast Pork Chops (Second)

"Huh..." He blinked and his body fell downwards.

He felt that he was falling into a cloud, and the blurred light seemed to spread inward from the corner of his eye along some unknown vein, just like the smudge technique he learned when he was studying watercolor painting. He subconsciously thought it was some kind of revelation, like the shells on the shallows, the small echoes of the endless waves of the sea of ​​souls. That ray of light and shadow gradually formed a blurred figure, and he didn't need to think too much about whose back it was—that was his wife. The long-forgotten past crashed into his dream like a locomotive roaring and spewing soot, and he felt his hands and feet were cold, as if he had returned to a very bad moment, panic, tension, grief and anger Come up together.

But he couldn't remember.

No, he knew that he had blocked this memory to fight against corruption. He calmed down again, and then his dream seemed to switch to another channel. He watched the huge waves as high as the mountain rise up in front of his eyes, the sun was blocked by dark clouds, and the thunder that resounded across the universe replaced the light of stars to illuminate the sky. The black longship that seemed to be made of black scales slowly squeezed out from the horizon, the violent wind roaring in the mouth of the gray giant wolf yelled that death was coming, and the dark sun jumped out from behind the longship, radiating cold and dead silence towards the whole world of light. He looked down at his feet, only to realize that he was stepping on a bruised corpse. Another one, another one, death is everywhere in sight, and the sea water is dyed sticky red by blood.

traitor! Someone shouted in the void, and that person's anger even triggered a new round of huge waves.

Casilios opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling of the bedroom, and let out another long breath of relief.

He stretched out a hand from under the quilt to turn on the warm-colored desk lamp at the head of the bed, and then retracted it immediately. Winter in northern Europe is quite tough, even if he paid for underfloor heating and heating, the small airflow leaking from the window cracks is enough to freeze his fingers. Casilios reluctantly sat up from the bed, and the cold air instantly hit him like an aerial bomb that exploded on his spine, which made him wake up a lot. He murmured a spell in a low voice, directing the water cup and thermos.

Then he put on his glasses, picked up a black leather-bound notebook and a pen, and carefully recorded the dream. As a spellcaster, he hasn't dreamed for a long time, unless a particularly powerful external force can make him dream and protect his mind, this is the reason why spellcasters have been in a state of tension for a long time. The previous dream was already blurred, but he clearly remembered the omen he saw in the latter dream. Thunder, sea waves, giant wolves, mountains and the icy sun, he thought it was because of his long-term mission that he had such dreams.

His long-term task is to monitor the movements of the royal family of the Asa Protoss, but it has to be said that if the title of father of the gods is thrown away, the old guy Odin is actually quite likable-Odin once held an event in his cabin A small banquet was held, and Casilios was the only participant. A warm stove, thick mead and grilled steak until soft, two dogs snorted and gnawed on the bone left by the owner under the long wooden table. Odin waved his greasy hands, bragging about his hunting experience in his youth, and his heroic figure in defeating the enemy on the battlefield. The smoke from the slowly burning firewood is mixed with the aroma of the mushroom soup. A sip of the strong mead, which cannot be tolerated by human stomachs, wakes people up.

Perhaps he dreamed of Ragnarok? The thread of fate of the three goddesses of Noren entangled him?

Casilios fell into thinking after recording several key elements. However, he didn't delay for too long, but put down his notebook, took the hot water brought by the invisible servant and drank slowly. He took a deep breath, lifted the quilt and jumped off the bed, the cold air made his mind completely clear. He walked into the bathroom and looked at the man with gray-white stubble and short hair in the mirror. The glaring white light above his head cast a shadow in the deep eye sockets. When he lowered his head, thousands of pictures similar to him appeared in the mirror. Similar faces, each roaring at him. Casilios didn't notice this, the dreams disturbed him. He turned on the faucet and started to wash. When he raised his head again, the shards in the mirror disappeared completely.

Today, Salomon, whom he grew up watching, is coming to visit, and he must prepare in advance.

"I've heard about London, and it's not your fault." Casilios poured a glass of vodka that had been chilled outdoors for Salomon, who was sitting opposite, and a thin layer of ice condensed on the surface of the wine. Salomon shook his head, and after clinking glasses with Casilios, he drank the clear spirit that was almost full in a whiskey glass without blinking. The drinking capacity of the mystic is not something that ordinary people can do. This is due to the body that has been polished by magic power enhancement and close combat training all year round. Although it is not as powerful as in the comics, unless it is cursed, it will prevent the disease. It is generally difficult to happen to a mystic—of course, a healthy body alone cannot resist the erosion of alcohol, but a mystic still has some tricks, such as the [Pure Elixir] made by Salomon, which can resist alcohol. It's just that Salomon doesn't need to take the [Pure Elixir] as in the past. As he grows older, the feedback from the stigmata and the genome created by the Mother Earth have already given his internal organs the ability to surpass ordinary people. The most complex and most beautiful program is running in his body.

"I didn't say it was my fault, but I still underestimated the ability of ordinary civil servants. This is a mistake and cannot be changed." When Casilios poured a second glass of wine for the two of them leisurely, Salomon smacked his mouth to savor the feeling the first glass of spirits brought to him. The young mystic had already changed his clothes. He took off the power armor and put on the suit again, except that he replaced the vest with a black long-sleeved sweater, and put on a woolen overcoat. Even when he came to visit, he still wore a belt inlaid with copper buckles around his waist, and the long and short knives stayed quietly in the sheath, revealing only a little shape under the cover of the coat. "You should have heard recently that I gave up competing for the title of Supreme Master." He said, "Kama Taj has not been peaceful recently."

"I have known this for a long time. The Supreme Mage is just a title, and the power of the real Supreme Mage still belongs to you. Everyone can see that the Supreme Mage is unscrupulous in favor of you." Si said, "If someone can't see it, it means that this person has no ability to stay in Kama Taj. It's not that no one wrote to me to intercede, but everyone knows that His Holiness' will cannot be changed. But I still I don't understand, if you give up competing for the title of Supreme Mage, then who will inherit this title, and what will the Supreme Trinity do?"

"Time is meaningless in the sea of ​​souls. The so-called prophecy is actually a possibility of the future. For the Supreme Trinity, there is no difference between the past and the future."

Cassilios nodded and made a zip gesture with his mouth.

"Let's not talk about this." He put down his wine glass and pointed to the direction of the kitchen, "I grilled pork chops, which I learned from my neighbors. It is a traditional Norwegian Christmas dish, which is very suitable for drinking."

"Neighbor?" Salomon recalled a blond young woman he met next door, and he greeted him very politely, "Is it an alien or a mortal?"

"mortal."

"uh-huh"

Ask for a ticket!