Chapter 281

"Be careful, Gilbert. Let go of that damned mouse." The old man looked at the bold young man in front of him discontentedly.

"Can the mice here grow so big?"

The stout boy with yellow hair picked up the squeaky rodent, which was the size of two fists.

"Everything here is bigger than anywhere else."

The old man looked at him unhappily. "The last time I came with my colleagues, his arm was bitten off by a wild dog the size of a lion. Now he can't take it back."

"Maybe grindworth made it." Gilbert casually threw away the mouse and kicked it into the sewer: "who is more powerful, he or the mysterious man?"

"If you can call him a mysterious man, but call him grindworth, that's enough." Another middle-aged man with a bag on his back came up from the stone steps and said in a funny way.

Gilbert turned his mouth, his eyes focused on the distance.

It was the entrance to the top floor of newmengard. By the light of the magic wand, we could see a row of slanting English characters carved on the entrance of the dark tower like flying snakes.

For the greater good. 】

"for the greater good, what is the greater good?" Asked Gilbert.

"The most evil wizard usually has the most evil purpose, for example, the mysterious man, except grindworth. In fact, in the records about him, the black wizard's persistence in wealth and power is rarely seen, and more importantly, his exploration of the soul is unfathomable. Why he launched that terrible wizard war 50 years ago is still a huge puzzle. " The old man at the head said in the dull tone of a history teacher.

"Lose is lose, Dumbledore beat him, who cares what his purpose is." The middle-aged man doesn't care.

"Well,"

the elder tutor, who was at the forefront, said noncommittally: "that said, but I believe that at the last moment of the black wizard's life, something must have happened, which led to the lack of a large number of historical data, so that we can not glimpse the whole picture of that era."

"So that's what you did, Professor Witt, to bring us to the final confinement of his life?"

"After all, we are the researchers of the history of magic, and there is nothing wrong with the textual research."

Three people in turn walked into the abandoned tower, the crow that had been cackling was still. What breaks the silence at the moment is only the beat of the drum, which is as gentle as the heartbeat, and the sound of the footsteps that should go with the drum. The ground is overgrown with weeds, and there is a layer of white fog floating from nowhere. A large area of the stone slabs and bricks on the walls of the tower have collapsed in rows. The occasional moonlight shoots in through the cracks and gaps of the roof, which makes people uneasy.

"Is he really dead?"

The dark clouds covered the moon, and Gilbert shivered. He thought the place was very dark, and his courage to kick a mouse had disappeared.

"I'm not sure. Albus Dumbledore just said that he was imprisoned. He didn't say where he ended up." The middle-aged man in the line shrugged and grinned, "are you scared, intern?"

"Will he still be alive?" Gilbert said in horror.

"Mark, don't scare him."

The leading old professor said with some displeasure, "I have been to this place no less than five or six times, and there has been no one in it for a long time. The Austrian Ministry of magic has no longer transported supplies to this place since 1945. Even the gods have starved to death in this long time."

"Then you still come..." Gilbert was relieved, but he rolled his eyes.

...

...

it was dark on all sides, as shown in the picture. On the empty ceiling, only spiders were crawling.

The man touched his head, but did not touch the body, only touched a rusty iron cage. His hand bounced off like an electric shock.

Some fragmentary images flashed through his mind. They were bald women slumped in wheelchairs, red haired men with desperate faces, and countless smiling witches lying unconscious on the ground. Is that something that actually happened, or is it just a terrible dream? When he thought about it, his head began to ache.

At the same time, several pairs of footsteps sounded in the floor under the body.

"Eh... What's that?"

The sound from under the attic was irresistible, and the sound of some metal cages rolling.

"I didn't see this last time. It's like a birdcage? "

"It's thicker than a birdcage. It feels like a cage. Look, Mr. mark, there's a hole under it."

"Really, what's this for?" Someone asked in doubt.

"I think... It's like a hat..."

"don't be kidding, which psycho will wear a cage on his head!"

The man who heard the sound bit by bit got up from the ground. The nests of several web weaving spiders were broken by the man's head, and they all ran away along the man's neck.Headache unbearable, he covered his head on the iron cage, hard force, some dry and weathered mud fell off at his feet, but he did not break free from the cage, only killed two bad luck spiders passing through the iron bar.

"Nightmares... Nightmares..."

he said hoarsely, holding the wall and stepping on the stone tiles to walk out.

...

...

in the fluorescent corridor, several witches in pointed wizard hats bent over, holding a shining wand, staring at a cage like helmet just appeared on the ground.

"Did anyone else come?"

The middle-aged man took out a magnifying glass from his backpack, carefully looked at the metal cage on the ground, and muttered to himself: "no magic wave... No trace of casting a spell... It's not like magic products..."

"newmengard has been deserted for decades, except for us, who else will come here?" Asked the boy, shrinking his shoulders.

"Maybe it was left by newmond gard's staff. If you want me to tell you, isn't the outer circle still working?" The middle-aged man took back the magnifying glass, picked up the strange bird cage hat from the ground, blew the dust on it, and suddenly said with a smile, "don't you say it's a hat, Gilbert, or you can wear it."

"I don't want it, fool." Gilbert immediately held his shoulder and refused.

"I'll give you more credit." The middle-aged man took out a camera from his knapsack and shook it like temptation.

"Then why don't you wear it yourself?"

"I graduated a long time ago." The middle-aged man said with a smile.

"Don't even talk." The bearded old scholar frowned and said, "no matter who left it, don't touch it easily for the time being. Let's take it back and study it."

"It's a pity," the middle-aged man said, throwing the heavy birdcage to Gilbert. "No, take it. I'll take a picture next to you."

With that, he straightened up and took a camera to take a picture around him. And the leader of the old man took out a piece of parchment, to the wall to write painting, from time to time also took out a magic wand on the wall to knock, mouth chanting.

Tutors and seniors are busy with other things. Gilbert, an intern, is holding the birdcage like helmet with his own small arm length and looking at the entrance and exit under the birdcage. Suddenly, a strange desire surges into his heart.

He wants to put his head in.

This desire is as hard to control as to see bubbles want to crush, nails want to pull out, cans want to crush.

Finally, after a few seconds of psychological struggle, he gritted his teeth and decided to have a try.

Taking a deep breath, he hunched down and put his head in.

Gilbert was in a trance the moment he put on the strange cage.

Then everything changed.

In the originally empty Gothic cloister, a large number of people appeared. They were countless, each wearing an old black military uniform, some leaning against the wall, some hanging from the ceiling, some even lying at their feet, staring at themselves with their eyes.

But without exception, each of them had that weird, cage like helmet on his head.

Seeing this horrible and strange scene, Gilbert let out a exclamation and took off the cage on his head in a cold sweat.

"Professor Witt...!" He cried out in horror.

"What's the matter?"

The old man turned his head, and the middle-aged man who took the picture also turned his head and looked at him in wonder.

But Gilbert didn't speak any more. After taking away the cage, the amazing scene just appeared disappeared completely. The hall was empty, with only some dilapidated carved roman columns and rusty chandeliers. Where can I see a figure.

The old man waited for a while, but did not wait for the students to speak. He frowned discontentedly: "don't be surprised. Take photos quickly and make records. Maybe we can find the lost historical data of the wizard world 50 years ago."

With that, he continued to write and draw. The middle-aged man shrugged and continued to take pictures.

Only Gilbert stood in the same place, his heart thumping. What he just saw was his own illusion. He was not sure.

He looked at the long cage shaped helmet in his hand, hesitated and put it on again.

Yes, just saw that strange things reappear in front of him, a large number of modern soldiers in birdcages, they did not move, they looked almost dead.

But it's different from the last time I put it on.

In the not so wide corridor, he saw a strange man walking slowly down the stairs. He was as thin as a skeleton, wearing a broken robe that could not see his true colors. His cheekbones were high, his head was locked by a cage shaped cage, and a rust lock was hanging around his neck. Long white hair spilled out of the cage and dragged to the ground.

That guy is staring at himself without blinking.Gilbert was completely flustered. He pulled out his helmet and threw it aside. However, this time, even after he threw away the strange helmet, the man with white hair on the ground did not disappear. He still stood on the steps downstairs, holding the wall and staring at himself.

"Professor Witt! You... You... You see The boy trembled and raised his fingers.

"What's the matter?" The tutor is very dissatisfied with the students' interrupting their research from time to time.

But looking along the boy's fingers, he also saw the tall and thin man who appeared quietly on the stairs. The guy looked like a skeleton covered with pale human skin and was locked in a cage above his neck.

"Who are you?" The old man immediately raised his wand and pointed at the strange place in front of him.

The middle-aged man's camera fell to the ground. Without hesitation, he pulled out his wand and pointed straight ahead.

"Who am I?" The thin and strange man looked at his palm and seemed to ask himself the same question.

"Are you... Are you a member of the newmengard staff?"

The old man protected the two students, holding a magic wand, and slowly stepped back.

"Work... Work... Yes, I still have work to finish." The man raised his drooping eyelids and repeated: "I still have work to do..."

with his inexplicable words, in the shadow of the wall of the open hall, several people with the same head locked in the cage slowly climbed out. They are skinny and look like zombies crawling out of coffins.

"Master."

"Master..."

"master..."

they clambered and whispered.

More and more people crawled out of the darkness. Gilbert was scared by this strange picture. There was no one here just now...

he hid behind his tutor and rubbed out a little bit.

"Master...!"

"Master... Help me..."

a guy in a cage climbed up to the man's back, looked up at him and begged.

In the mist, the skinny man raised his hand. His five fingers, growing and forking in the night, became antlers. He held the head of the man who begged him.

The antlers pierced in from the cage and made countless holes in the man's head.

I don't know if it's the skinny guy who hasn't eaten for a long time or is on the verge of death. After his head was punctured, he didn't shed much blood. The guy not only had no pain and fear on his face, but also showed a strong sense of relief.

"Go... Go..."

with a plop, the man in the birdcage fell to the ground. The old man foreboding bad luck, crazy urged his students, three people stumble, you push me shoving to run out.

The man with white hair on the ground didn't stop him, so he stood on the ground quietly and watched the three people running away.

I don't know if it's too panic or the ground is uneven. Gilbert suddenly falls to the ground in the rush. He hasn't got up yet. On the wall, the shadow of the bifurcation suddenly expanded.

The white haired man's antler like palm suddenly stretched. In the blink of an eye, he caught up with the other two, stabbed them in the back of their heads and out of their forehead.

The tutor and the senior didn't even call out. They flopped forward and fell to the ground.

"Professor Witt! Senior mark! "

Gilbert cried out. He looked at the corpses of his teacher and senior, and thought of the man's possible identity. He almost fainted with a shudder, and could not help being afraid.

"Master... Master..."

in the shadow, more and more people wearing birdcage helmets climb out, and they embrace the thin thighs of the white haired man with dense palms.

"Master, kill me, kill me..."

"let me be free."

"Kill me... Master..."

"help me...

...

" ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge... Ge

Gilbert's teeth trembled and he called out the man's name. A stream of smelly liquid came out of his crotch and spread slowly on the ground.

The white haired man looked at him, his empty eyes regained some expression. He walked out of the dense palms, ignored the shadows, and slowly came to Gilbert.

Long white hair dragged through his urine and he squatted down.

"Poor child."

Grindevo pressed Gilbert's shoulder and said in a slow but gentle voice, "don't be afraid. I'll wake you up."