Stray

Ramon’s inn was still lively. After becoming a wanted criminal, Oliver was deprived of his identity as the owner. He didn’t know which one in town took it over, but he didn’t change it to other uses and continued to operate it as it was.

Originally, the inn didn’t have a name, which saved the trouble of changing the signboard. Not to mention the cooks who usually came to help, not even the gardeners hired for the small garden had changed. If anything was different— the handsome and enthusiastic boss was buried in a public cemetery, next to his wife who had been dead for many years. There was no young figure running back and forth in the inn, and no kind person playing the ukulele from time to time in the tavern in town.

That was it.

Fortunately, the new owner didn’t plan to deal with the giant fir in the backyard. Nemo shrank like a shadow on the top of the tree, looking at the huge demon cocoon not far away.

The dark red cocoon was ten meters high, like a small mountain peak. Countless translucent fascia wrapped it, and the end was twisted into a meat rope, reaching out in all direction. Their ends weren’t attached to the surface but penetrated the cracks in space suspended in the air, and suddenly disappeared halfway. Ominous fire light was being projected through the small cracks.

Nemo could feel his own power pulsating in the cocoon. It was extremely unstable.

At the behest of the Preceptor Bishop, the Knights of Judgement never stopped persuading the civilians. People of all religions organized their own gatherings near the cocoon, trying to understand its true situation.

However, there may be only one person in the world who knew the truth about it.

Nemo knew very well that that thing would blow up sooner or later, and it made no sense for people to evacuate or not. It should be some confused intermediate demon that had swallowed the arm. There was only one reason why it hasn’t blown up yet. At the beginning, he fully believed that he was just an unlucky ordinary person, and he didn’t have any concept of the specific practice of “abandonment”, resulting in the lost piece of flesh that could only be regarded as a half-assed gift of power. It was both a miracle and a poison. The demons should have noticed this instinctively.