266 Chapter 66, Double Death

"you lose!"

In the early morning and night, at the entrance of the rain-filled alley, Mance dusted off his clothes with his bone-ridden arm, "I'm not my opponent."

He looked into the distance, the sky had already turned pale, and the day was coming. He picked up the raincoat and the gun that had been left on the ground, put the Mauser pistol in the mouth of the fallen boy, and decided to wait until the daylight fell to blow his head directly.

Time passed by every minute and every second, and Mance maintained the posture of pulling the trigger at any time. The night was not over yet, and he could see that the boy's barely human-shaped face was slowly wriggling and recovering, and the bent bridge of the nose was restored. The swollen, bloodshot eyes slowly opened, and the cracked harelip healed little by little.

"Don't resist?" He moved the gun a little bit away, and asked like a friend: "If you want me to say, you can still fight."

The pig-headed boy nodded slowly while lying on the rainy ground.

"You don't seem to care at all. Isn't death scary to you?" Mance asked curiously in the last few minutes before dawn.

The pig-headed boy shook his head slowly.

"Why don't you talk, the day is coming, if you don't say it, you are going to die." After thinking for a while, Mance showed a rare gentleness on his face: "If you have any last wishes, you can tell me, and I can help you Finish."

The pig-headed boy pondered for a while, his lips twitched, but he didn't make any sound. Out of respect for his opponent, Mance leaned down and put his ear to his mouth.

"I'm sorry," he said in a faint voice.

sorry?

Why say sorry? Mance straightened up, frowning, feeling that the words were not addressed to him.

At this time, the cumulonimbus clouds in the sky dissipated completely. Under the first twilight of dawn, he saw the shadow of another person printed in the stagnant water on the ground. That person had already stood silently. behind him.

The shadow of death that had been suppressed during the battle burst out suddenly at this moment, and was expanded to the limit.

"drink!!"

He roared, trying to use this method to scare away the guys behind him, or to dispel the fear in his heart.

Time slowed to the extreme at this moment, almost to the point of being completely still. However, the figure in the pond was not affected at all, it moved slightly.

Puff.

Mance saw a black spike protruding from his body, and withdrew. Along with the black spike entering the body, some kind of severe pain turned into a death signal and went straight to the sky.

thousands of miles away.

In a quiet room where incense is burned, a man sits cross-legged on a futon and meditates, his long white hair hangs down from his head to his waist.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes suddenly, drew out his black wand, and pointed at the void.

Six burning candles appeared in the room.

But in the middle of the flame of one of the candles, a small black spot appeared, and the black spot expanded at a speed visible to the naked eye, swallowing up the flame in a blink of an eye.

"Hee hee ha ha ha ha ha ~"

At the same time, an inexplicable and weird childish laughter resounded indistinctly in the meditation room, like the laughter of a naughty child after a successful prank.

The white-haired man watched in astonishment as the flame extinguished and green smoke wafted out, he even forgot to breathe for a moment.

Bournemouth.

At the alley less than a hundred meters away from the port, Mance clutched his chest tightly. Puffs of black air gushed out from the punctured wound and spread rapidly, as if what was inside his body was not red blood, but jet black air.

He looked back for the first time, and there was nothing behind him.

The man who killed himself either fled or went into hiding.

"Impossible, impossible. I have already broken it. Impossible!!"

He frantically turned his head, trying to turn back time, but under the passing of the black smoke, he found that he couldn't even control his body. He leaned his head against the wall, his body was constantly twitching, twisting, and struggling.

"Damn it!"

"Why!!?"

"I have clearly achieved this level?"

Unable to control himself, he roared wildly, almost unable to extricate himself from confusion: "Who, who!?"

No one answered, the tiny black hole in his chest spread out to his whole body, he could even hear something chewing, chewing his soul. Every bite takes away a part of memory, and every bite takes away a part of sanity.

Under the weight of death, he completely lost control: "What should I do? What should I do...?"

At this time, he saw Hoffa lying on the ground, as if seeing the last straw, he fell on the ground with love, pressed on Hoffa, and grabbed his shoulder: "Tell me who it is!" ! Tell me who?"

Hoffa fell to the ground, looking at the rising sun and fading moon in the distance, turning a deaf ear to Mance's pleas. In fact, the moment he destroyed the mistletoe, he had understood everything.

After fighting so many times, he knew the Muggle in front of him quite well. It was because of understanding that he couldn't help feeling an indescribable sympathy from the bottom of his heart. If he didn't have the most tenacious desire to survive, how could he evolve that terrible desire to control. But all of this quickly fell apart under the time he played with.

"Whatever you want, I can give you whatever you want!" Mance pulled Hoffa up from the ground and pressed him against the wall, his deep unwillingness made him speak very fast: "Tell me, who is it?" Kill me. I can help you kill Grindelwald, I can even help you rewrite history, I can help you do anything you want, just tell me"

Silent.

The shaken boy turned his head away, closed his lips tightly, and remained silent, with only sadness and sympathy in his eyes.

"tell me!"

"tell me!"

"tell me!"

He yelled frantically, his voice even brought a trembling cry.

"You know that, right?"

"please."

"please"

The sound gets lower and lower until it disappears completely.

Hoffa didn't say a word either.

Finally, Mance lowered his head, he let go of his hand, and all the order was completely out of control at this moment. Confusion consumed him, and he leaned back. Leaning against the corner of the wall full of stagnant water, he stared blankly at the sky: "Is my vision still too narrow?"

he murmured.

The black smoke from his chest filled his head, drifted across his cheeks, until it dissipated into the night sky little by little. After the black air dissipated, his body completely collapsed, becoming black and thin, skinny, with dry hair, like a skeleton that had been dead for many years.

As the dawn sun gradually rose, some street sweepers in rain capes appeared on the streets of Bournemouth, and a few melodious air defense sirens sounded in the distance. No one knows that the city's actual savior has become one with it.

A deep sense of exhaustion came over Hoffa, and he sat against the wall next to Mance's small, dark mass of bones, like two migrant workers who were going to smoke on the bricks at the construction site after a hard day's work.

it is finally over.

No one could stop him from sending Chloe back to London.

No one can stop him from fulfilling his long-cherished wish.

However, he couldn't help feeling confused. After experiencing all this, he was no longer sure what he wanted.

A palm was pressed on his shoulder.

He turned his head and saw that the nun whom he had put on the roof in the distance before came to him. She was wet and trembling uncontrollably.

"Chloe"

Hoffa looked at her with mixed feelings.

Plop.

Chloe knelt down in the stagnant water, staring blankly at Mance's huddled body. After watching for a while, she turned her head and asked Hoffa tremblingly, "Will I go to hell?"

"Won't."

Hoffa hugged her shoulders, put his head on her forehead, and said softly, "Definitely not."

"What does it feel like to kill?" she asked Hoffa for the second time, this time in a tone that was much heavier than in Paris.

Hoffa thought for a while, and said seriously: "I feel that human beings are actually not that noble and sacred, just like other animals in nature, like domestic animals. If you get used to it, you will become numb, you will become, and you don't care at all. life and death."

"Then why is there an executioner? If it's not good." Chloe pushed Hoffa away and looked straight at him.

The problem became more and more acute. Hoffa could hardly look her in the eyes. He turned his head away: "Some souls are destined to burn. Either to warm others, or to burn the same kind.

For the benefit and survival of more people, sometimes a few people have to be sacrificed. This is the meaning of the prison, and this is the meaning of the death penalty. "

"Yes, what you said makes sense."

Chloe looked at him in pain: "But sometimes I also think, if those murderers, those insane people, those thugs who tortured the same kind. If they hadn't experienced it before, if it hadn't been for their own painful experience, they would How could it become what it is now? If no one is willing to listen to their voices, if no one is willing to bring them salvation, then there will be more and more people like this, and this cycle of life will never end."

Hoffa was dumb, he opened his mouth and didn't know what to say for a long time.

Chloe looked into his eyes and said with a trembling voice, "Look at me, Hoffa."

Hoffa looked into the nun's eyes according to his words, but found that a faint silver luster had risen in her eyes, which was a precursor to the runaway magic power.

"I feel like I feel like maybe no one can answer your question, only God can answer it."

"I just want to hear from you now, talk to me a few more words." The nun's voice was full of fear and bewilderment.

Hoffa was lost in thought, this moment. He thought of Adebe Gorshak, of Albus Dumbledore, of the Void Dragon, of everything he had learned in the magic school, of the pain he had experienced, and suddenly had an answer.

"When I was at Hogwarts, the founder of Ravenclaw, Ronay Ravenclaw, once told me to look for the light in the darkness.

I think there is always darkness in the world, just like there is always night. But some people will succumb to the darkness and obey the darkness, while some people see hope in the darkness and work hard.

To me, it's not that their fate is bad, but that they chose to surrender. "

As he spoke, he raised his head and looked at Chloe's pure silver pupils with fiery eyes: "If you feel that there is something positive in this darkness, then do it, if it will Words that bring light."

In an inconspicuous corner as low as dust, some kind of invisible flame passed from one person to another. Chloe stared blankly at Hoffa. The soul of a man for many days.

"I see."

Finally, she nodded, untied her red hair, took off her nun hat, and stood up.

Hoffa understood what she was going to do, but he still couldn't bear it, he hesitated and stood up, "How about I go with you, I can replace you"

He didn't dare to continue talking, because he knew that everything that was about to happen had already happened, and he couldn't change it. She is destined to go back in time, rescue the children of refugees, and remind herself to abandon the black mistletoe until the end of the enemy.

Chloe shook her head, she turned and walked towards the city of Bournemouth. Going alone to the darkness in the distance, to the cycle that Hoffa knew.