Stray

    Old John has worked in the Mercenary Guild Registry for thirty years.

    Strictly speaking, others are not yet fifty years old, that is, they don't have much ambition, and they show a little lazy atmosphere early on. After going back and forth, the veteran mercenaries directly called the reception manager "Old John".

    The mercenary guild has always been very friendly to the old employees. Just because he can memorize all the peculiar rules and regulations, Old John can still sit in this small management room for another ten years. .

    The pay is not much, it is enough to support a family.

    I have no magical talent, and my body is too weak to do work that requires physical strength. Old John was not too dissatisfied with the status quo. Even if the income is less, at least they are happy and leisurely. He likes to teach that group of ignorant little hairs, and the young people under him can usually deal with most situations, and only the uncommon things require him to go out in person.

    Just a little regret, he thought, pushing an unopened thick envelope aside.

    That's a faculty invitation letter from Clements College.

    Seriously, Old John was so excited, but he couldn't go. As he grew older and was reluctant to spend a lot of money on continuous treatment, his waist disease deteriorated rapidly - he could not stand for more than two hours without the seat cushion embroidered with the magic circle.

    Not to mention being an ancient Elvish professor who needs a field trip.

    Old John adjusted the cushion behind his lower back, changed to a more comfortable position, and snorted regretfully.

    Just a very ordinary story.

    There are not many jobs to choose from, and within a few years of entering this industry, Old John settled down early. Now that he has a lot of free time, he has developed his own interests a little. This weak registration manager will go to the library of the mercenary guild headquarters for two laps, and with a head with an amazing memory, try to learn and translate some ancient Elvish materials.

    Over the years, Old John has really made a lot of trouble.

    In the past two or three years, he has even successfully cracked a few chapters that few people understand. Clement College paid him a lot of gold coins for it, and he used them to give his family a bright and bright house that wouldn't leak on rainy days.

    There is even a small garden where he can grow his favorite mint.

    That's enough, even if he can't become a professor, he can at least make a little money like this.

    He originally planned to throw the letter away, but since that incident happened yesterday, he couldn't help but hesitate.

    Old John sipped the mint tea he brewed, squinted in the afternoon sun, and carefully pondered the abnormality of yesterday afternoon—

    At that time, I was writing the report as I always did, while slowly pouring myself some mint tea. The reports from the horizontal and vertical are almost the same every day.

    No warning.

    Like silk across the skin, a faint warm current suddenly flowed through his limbs. It felt very strange, as if I had chosen something vaguely, but it didn't seem like I had made a great decision.

    It's like seeing a beautiful sunset on the way home, before the consciousness reacts, the body subconsciously raises its head to look. Cozy and natural, almost instinctive mood.

    That feeling only lasted for a few seconds. Immediately, he found that the pain in his waist was slowly disappearing.

    The effect is very similar to the previous visit to the therapist, but the duration is a little subtler.

    Therapists are very consistent about his waist. The bones in his waist are naturally fragile, and can only be strengthened for a while with the strengthening magic circle. There is always a time limit for the magic circle, and his disease will not be fatal, but it cannot be cured.

    But this time, it has been silent for a full day. Old John sat on the magic cushion, anxiously waiting for the pain to strike, so distracted by anxiety that he didn't read a single document.

    Something is wrong.

    Old John finally took a deep breath, gathered up the courage to stand up, and made a move that he had not dared to do in more than ten years—

    He twisted his ass.

    The courage was accompanied by a knock on the door. Lina, who was supposed to be in charge of the reception at the front desk, froze at the door, staring blankly at her boss who made an indecent gesture towards her.

    Old John coughed twice in embarrassment: "...I've repeated it many times, Lena, remember to knock on the door."

    The young girl twisted her hands uncomfortably: "Sir, there is a situation outside that needs to be handled by you."

    "What's the situation?" Old John put a kind smile on his face, pretending that nothing happened a few minutes ago.

    "A team of black badges that was reduced not long ago to re-register. They asked for a new member, uh, that new member is a bit special and needs your signature. And, and... "

    The reception girl swallowed and finally remembered the point of the matter. Sweat broke out from her forehead, and her face began to turn pale.

    "The Queen of Albans is in that procession."

    “…”

    Old John suddenly forgot to feel the pain in his waist, he jumped up like a rabbit and rushed out of the room.

    Fortunately, the situation is not as serious as he thought.

    There are no hordes of guards, no maids on call, and no new queen in full costume.

    There were only four young people in the private reception room of the mercenary guild headquarters, and another receptionist on duty was talking to one of them. Old John nervously shifted his gaze to the only female figure—

    The Queen of Alban was dressed to the brim, still wearing old leather armor, and the thin scarf used to cover her features was pulled to her chin. A grey parrot was sitting on her wrist, and she was talking to it.

    Ann Savage.

    No, it should be Andrea Alastair.

    Old John wiped the sweat from his forehead. Since the other party didn't come to visit with great fanfare, he naturally did not intend to attract too much attention. According to the process, it is indeed up to you to receive it.

    "Good afternoon, everyone." With decades of experience, Old John pulled out a perfect smile. "Excuse me…"

    "I was notified a week ago that Tumbleweed's name was removed."

    The young man who was talking to the receptionist stood up, walked up to Old John on his own initiative, and extended a hand in a friendly manner.

    "Oliver Ramon, Captain of the Tumbleweed. This time for a new full registration - I want to get that name back. Sorry to trouble you. This requirement doesn't count Is it illegal?"

    "Of course, of course." Old John said in a trance.

    For some reason, he had an inexplicable intimacy with the young man in front of him. If it wasn't for the fact that he knew that the badge for resisting charm was hanging on his chest, he would have thought it was the effect of charm.

    "There are no new Black Badge teams to claim the Tumbleweed title right now, as long as you do the formalities, you can use it again immediately. But, um...Mr. Ramon. I noticed that Savi Miss Qi is also in your team."

    Old John coughed twice.

    "You, do you really plan to continue to be a black chapter? If you're rude, you can..."

    "Let me forgive them." Ann took the conversation carelessly and winked. The grey parrot flew from her wrist armor and rested on her shoulder.

    Old John shook his hand and took out a handkerchief, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

    "I originally planned to come, but unfortunately my head of the family has no such idea now. As a member of the tumbleweed, I decided to obey the instructions of the head." The king dressed as a female warrior pouted. , but there was not much dissatisfaction on his face.

    Damn, old John muttered in his heart. It's a really tricky situation - it's almost as incomprehensible as a beggar picking up a bag of gold, taking it back as a bench, and continuing to nibble on dry bread.

    "That's it." Oliver Ramon nodded.

    "Well, it's not impossible... What about the new players you want to register? You know, I need to know about the new players, which involves a new rating for Tumbleweed."

    Old John beat his waist habitually, and took out a stack of materials from the cabinet near the entrance.

    "The signatures of both you and the new member are required if the new member was previously on another team—"

    "The new member is here." The blond young man who had been nibbling fruit in the corner approached, he threw the core of the fruit and grabbed the grey parrot that was parked on the shoulder of the female warrior. "It may not be able to sign well, and paw prints work, right?"

    Grabbed by the beautiful young man, the parrot instantly stiffened and began to play dead.

    "..." Old John didn't know how to answer.

    If these people came to the mercenary guild headquarters specially to find fault, this battle would be too serious.

    "If you want that name, for a little money, we can keep it for you."

    Facing Ramon's gentle green eyes, old John found he couldn't even make his tone tougher. Right now his tone was more exhorting than explaining.

    "Registering pets is different. Although it is not that no one has done this... But whether it is risk rating, task assignment or tax payment, the number of team members is a very important indicator. You have to pay one more person Even if this parrot is a giant dragon, I personally recommend that you continue to keep its pet status.”

    "No, Bagelmore is our companion." Oliver Ramon sounded very serious.

    The grey parrot remained rigid and let out a very inappropriate howl of excitement.

    "If you insist." The other party's tone was very firm, and Old John didn't plan to say more.

    After preparing the documents and pen and paper, he looked carefully at An again: "If you have other needs..."

    "Don't care about me, please treat me as non-existent." Ann waved her hand quite casually.

    "Thank you." Oliver nodded solemnly and took the pen handed by Old John.

    He signed his name beautifully without hesitation. The grey parrot inserted one foot into the inkwell and trotted happily over the parchment. If Oliver hadn't held it down just in time, it looked excited to run two more paw prints.

    "Then, then I'll retire first, these materials only need to be stamped with a spell seal, and the formalities will be completed soon. It's almost lunch time, if you are hungry, there will be a reception in a while. Accept."

    "Is there anything else we need to do?" Oliver scratched his hair.

    "No, but..."

    "Then I won't bother you." Oliver Ramon shook his head with a smile.

    "Okay, Mr. Ramon." Old John always felt a little unspeakable regret, but he could only put on a standard smile again. "If you're going on a mission next, we can also provide—"

    Oliver paused for a few seconds while arranging his saber.

    "No, it's a private matter." He said softly, "I have an appointment to go."

    "Ah, sorry."

    "It's okay, sir. By the way, I do have something to ask of you."

    "Please speak."

    "Five days later, a letter may be sent here. If it does appear, then please revise the relevant information of tumbleweed according to the above information."

    "Ok, give it to us. Is it exactly five days? If it doesn't arrive..."

    "It will come," said the head of the tumbleweed.

    Oliver Ramon's smile was a bit complicated, not his age. Old John couldn't help but want to sigh, but he politely held it back.

    "...I believe it will come." As he watched the group leave the room, he heard the young man repeat in a low voice.

    Five days.

    The members of Tumbleweed disappeared from view, Old John squeezed the sweaty handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his face again.

    Very good, if after five days there is still no pain in the waist, he will go to the therapist to check the waist. If all goes well, and I can really wrap things up well, I'll go to Clement Academy and try it out.

    The bottom of the abyss is shaking violently.

    Pandoratel's juvenile attached itself to a corpse and looked at the humanoid demon in front of her.

    [You...you are...]

    "Get ready. You'll find a safe place to hide for a while, it'll be a bit windy later," Nemo replied.

    Pandoratel silently indented the hard shell behind the corpse of the superior demon, protruding a little misty limb, and continued to observe carefully.

    After recovering from the weakness of the previous period, the behavior of Lord Demon King made her unable to understand.

    The Demon King first restored the illusion of the human town, and then lay on the roof of one of them, smiling at the false sky above his head. There was a chat with her about the surface, and she seemed to be in an unusually good mood.

    That's fine.

    She thought it would be the same today, but she didn't expect that the bottom of the abyss shook as soon as she circled around.

    The slightly insignificant human figure floated in the air, and countless black shadows revolved around him at high speed. More and more black shadows rose up from the demon graveyard at the bottom of the abyss, gradually becoming viscous, like liquid.

    After the number of black shadows was enough to cover half of the sky, countless white bones that shimmered shimmered through the sand and flew towards the illusory blue sky, rushing towards the sun.

    The Humanoid Demon Lord controls them with ease, as if conducting a band.

    Finally it has a definite shape.

    The overly powerful demonic pressure struck head-on, and the little Pandora shrunk himself into a ball and squeezed into the demon's bones. She barely recognized the shape of the newborn monster—

    Humans call them "dragons", but it's so different from the dragons she knows.

    The black scales glitter like obsidian, the three pairs of eyes as white as moonlight, and the cross-shaped pupils unique to the devil. The huge dragon-shaped creature took shape in the air, and just the little murderous aura leaked from the creature made her almost subconsciously cut off her limbs to escape.

    "Nimo Wright" didn't stop.

    The appearance of the new creature became clearer—

    Two pairs of huge wings spread in the air, blocking the bright sunlight. The dark blue feathers fluoresced around the edges of the wings, as beautiful as a dark blue gem embedded in it. It drooped its neck gracefully, and the black shadow brushed its scales like electricity for a long time.

    It wasn't a dragon, she thought, but she didn't know what it was.

    "Black may be more suitable." The Demon King muttered, showing a smile.

    The breath of the huge creature at this moment is no different from that of the Demon King.

    It's just that it doesn't seem to be conscious - after being created, it lays down around the town in the illusion, with its long forked tail surrounding the town, near the head with its eyes closed.

    Just like that, falling asleep in a guard position.

    Pandorather tried to pull herself out of the demon's skeleton, and timidly leaned in again.

    【What is this? 】Although her breath has calmed down, she is still a little frightened.

    "Sorry, the movement was a bit loud just now, are you not injured?" The Demon King patted her misty limb.

    “…It’s a precaution,” he added after pulling his hand back.

    [Prevention? Prevent what? 】

    "Prevent me from being locked up and never return." The devil's smile made her more and more confused. "There's got to be a guard here. I'm well aware now that only instinctive puppets work well."

    "In these two days, the surface will try to summon my consciousness - if not immediately. Then either to negotiate, or to kill me more safely, Oliver Ramon The next most reasonable course of action is this."

    【Then, isn’t that a bad thing, why are you laughing? Don't respond to them! If you have any information to bring to the surface, I can go to other superior demons—if they have flesh on the surface, I will go and ask them to pass the word. 】

    "Good boy." The demon king's smile became more obvious, "But no need, the information brought out by others is meaningless. Rather, it is more suspicious to ask others to bring the letter."

    [The surface is dangerous. You clearly know that they might hurt you...] She held back for a long time, only to say one sentence.

    But it was useless, Pandora was furious—the Demon King no doubt had thought of this long ago. He even specially created a powerful puppet to guard the bottom of the abyss.

    [You don't go. 】The young demon had to keep repeating.

    "Don't worry. Just in theory, I have to consider the worst possible possibility," said the humanoid lord, "...but I know Ollie."

    He sat near the claws of the strange and beautiful creature, leaned on the smooth scales, and continued to look up at the sky.

    "This is an appointment."

    The author has something to say:

    Oli: Will the Grim World Pillar come, or will Nemo?

    Nemo: Is Ollie going to kill me outright, or do you want to talk?

    Dating is thrilling and exciting (×