Chapter 325 Unforgettable Memories

The werewolf, who had been lying on the ground, suddenly moved. Before Pilege turned around, the werewolf's black arm had already pierced through his abdomen, and his hair was wet and flat.

The beast rushed towards the plate-armored soldier next to him, holding the wizard who could not shout. If he had not seen it with his own eyes, he would never have thought that such a huge body could shrink into such a small ball. The soldier could hardly see the werewolf, but could only see Pilege stumbling towards him, and the wizard's body outline completely blocked the werewolf.

The plate-armored soldier threw away the torch and stabbed Pilege's chest with a long sword, trying to penetrate the commander and the werewolf together, but the resistance of the long sword piercing was not like two bodies.

The wizard's body was not stopped by the long sword, but hit the soldier's body, blocking his view.

He kicked his superior away without hesitation, and drew his sword to guard the front. The werewolf appeared at the bottom of his vision, crouching down, almost like a shadow floating into his defensive position.

The brave soldier immediately changed his posture. His left hand wearing an iron glove grabbed the sword and exerted force downward with his right hand.

The lead-filled counterweight ball hit the werewolf's back, immediately making a dent. But it did not stop, and still threw him down. Then, with two claws, the body wrapped in thick armor was forced to lie on the ground in a pool of blood.

It grabbed his hand from behind and twisted it to an angle that was not suitable for exerting force.

The wet breathing hole suffocated all the shouts.

But how can the werewolf execute an invulnerable warrior?

It still has a way.

The werewolf picked up the soldier and walked towards the body of a disemboweled monster. Then his head was knocked into the monster's abdomen, the pile of internal organs mixed with mucus. The liquid and elastic meat blocked every gap in his helmet. He finally understood what this method was and began to struggle hard, but every resistance was easily suppressed by the werewolf. It even just sat on his back, without any other extra actions.

Half a minute later, the warrior finally lost all his ability to move due to suffocation.

Clayton, who had regained his sanity, stood up from his back and looked at his savior with mixed feelings.

Chude Osmar.

They were mortal enemies, but now they had to rely on each other. Clayton had to sigh at the fickleness of fate.

"It's amazing that you can instantly remove the demonic influence on me. How did you do it?" He looked at the two bare hands.

Osmar glanced at him coldly, without anger: "You should have known what I am, right?"

Clayton nodded, he already understood the other party's origin.

"You are a descendant of the goddess of fate, but don't you have no fingers?"

Osmar looked down at his people again, his eyes without any nostalgia: "Look at our appearance, we are just a group of monkeys with divine power. Do you think there is any difference between monkeys' hands and feet?"

His mentality has changed greatly compared to before. The werewolf stood in a pool of blood and thought:

"What do you want me to do?"

"I have got what I wanted before, and now I find that I have been deceived, so I want Edwards' life as compensation." Osmar said: "Clayton Bello, I know you are not a heartless person. I helped you many times when I was with him. Even if you didn't know it at that time, you should know now that you owe me."

"I have given you a stronger spirit, and the power of the devil can no longer affect you. Use this to fight."

After he finished speaking, he staggered towards the stairs. The loss of too many toes made him unstable.

Clayton stared at his back, his black pupils narrowed in the yellow sclera. He didn't think he owed Osmar anything. If it weren't for Osmar, he should be busy moving in Sasha City now.

But there was no need to refute this, after all, their interests were currently the same.

Clayton followed him, he also had urgent matters to deal with.

He actually saw everything that happened before. When Edwards released the witchcraft, although Clayton was not as awake as he is now, he did not really fall asleep. When his sleep desire was amplified to the peak, the magic link that Donna had set on him took away part of this desire that was enough to drown him.

He could feel that in addition to his own sleep desire, his most painful memories also flowed to another mind along the link.

This may cause some terrible misunderstandings.

Donna was waiting in the corridor on the third floor. The black-haired girl looked out of place among the Morrell soldiers, but she had already won the respect of some people with her own skills.

The leader of the Tinon, Di Jetali, controlled one-fifth of the rebels and was able to make a plan to execute him alone and continue to use the remaining Tinon people. The subsequent execution was successful. Even though the witch was really as old as she looked, the dwarves began to fear her.

Because of this, Donna Bello began to understand why mind reading was considered a curse.

It was enough for her to just be able to read other people's emotions.

Fear, desire, suspicion. These emotions came from the people around her continuously, and she couldn't even escape. No one here really liked her. They treated her as something that could not be approached. If it was not necessary, they were not even willing to talk to her.

Only Louis and Clayton were trustworthy, but they were not with her now.

Donna tried to empty her mind to avoid being overwhelmed by this lonely mentality and weaken her strength.

She relaxed her heart, so when the strange sleepiness came, she fell asleep almost without resistance.

Her consciousness fell into darkness, but the feeling around her was so warm. Donna didn't want to wake up again. The pressure of reality was about to crush her.

A soft and clear voice came from her side, as if it was very close, but also very far away, and the rustling sound of the pen tip rubbing against the paper seemed to cover the words: "Kerry, don't you have anything to say to your parents?"

The voice that answered him sounded like Clayton's, but younger and more impatient.

"No, I have already written in March and May. Everything I want to say is in those two letters. I don't plan to write again this time."

This voice is closer, as close as if it came from Donna's own mouth.

Donna suddenly opened her eyes and saw that she was in a simple little room. The dazzling sunlight shone in from the window. She was sitting on the lower bunk bed, swinging her legs in boredom in the sun.

This didn't look like her own body, but a man's body, because the legs were too long.

Opposite her, there was a bunk bed of the same kind. Sitting on the lower bunk was a black-haired young man wearing a white shirt and rolled up sleeves. He had a slender figure, and long and curly black hair flowed from both sides of his face. Donna couldn't see his face because he was sitting with his head down and restrained, spreading a piece of letter paper as flat as possible on his thighs, and the feather pen in his hand kept writing on the letter paper, making a pleasant friction sound.

"Don't you have any new ideas?" The bright voice did come from his mouth.

"Do you really want me to have it?" Donna listened carefully to the pronunciation habits of the respondent. Now she was sure that this was Clayton himself.

So she looked at the man opposite again in doubt. She remembered what he had just said.

Clayton was a pseudonym she gave to him in front of Edwards. Why did this person know this?

"Who is this?" She thought to herself. The dreams of wizards are unusual. They don't have meaningless dreams.

Or is it a symbolic dream of foreknowledge? Or is the power of the devil out of control?

There was a strange and tolerant feeling on the young man opposite her, as well as an inexplicable attraction. She couldn't help but move her eyes to him, as if she should look at him, but she had not fulfilled this obligation for a long time, so she had to make extra compensation.

Clayton's voice sounded again, more tired than before: "Really, there is no more. Besides, why do you want me to write so many suicide notes? Would my parents be happier to see more suicide notes?"

Suicide note, is Clayton going to die? But she just met him?

So this is a foreknowledge dream?

Donna thought hard, as if she was in a dream, she felt that her thoughts were very slow.

The man sitting opposite chuckled a few times.

"No, it's just that if we die, they will have more souvenirs to remember us by."

"The more you see, the sadder it gets." The young Clayton said disdainfully. When Donna wanted to take a closer look at the man opposite, he suddenly fell back and lay on the bed, so Donna could only see the moldy bed board above.

"So you always have a girlfriend? Maybe you should leave something for her."

"Seriously, did you see me dating a woman in Patnu? Even once? Or do you think I should write to those wrens?"

The black-haired young man opposite him sighed very lightly: "I'm sorry, Cray, I was always looking at Cuitisi and didn't pay attention to your situation. But I always thought you were very popular. After all, you have so many advantages. As long as you get along with you, most people will like you."

"Thank you for saying these words that make me happy." Clayton said unhappily, and Donna could intuitively feel his resentment.

His tone was very obvious, but the young man opposite was not unhappy.

"Then, maybe you would like to say something to Tristana? I can write it in the letter together."

"I have nothing to say to her. She is not my wife."

Donna clenched her hands. She did not know why she did this.

Trestana was her mother's name. Clayton was not her husband, so she did not want to write to her. However, the young man opposite her could write to her directly, so.

Her mind was confused. Some simple logic began to get tangled, making it difficult for the straightforward answer to surface.

She continued to listen blankly.

"Cray, she has always regarded you as her brother." The young man said earnestly.

Clayton's tone was a little angry: "I am honored to receive this privilege, but I also remember that 'the rightmost position of the red sofa in the hall is mine. Don't pile up sundries on it'. I have repeated this many times, and she never cared."

The young man chuckled again, but soon his tone became solemn: "I promise that I will convey this request for you, and she will definitely listen this time."

The writing sound rang again briskly.

"No, forget it." Clayton sighed sadly and denied it again: "Forget it. If I die in this battle down there and this is my last words, I will laugh at myself."

"I think you'd better say something. We might die next, so we should try to say what's in our hearts before we die." The young man's voice was still calm.

Clayton sighed again: "But I really have nothing to say. My new friends - as you can see, they will go to the battlefield with us next week. It's superfluous to say anything at this time."

"Okay, then maybe you have something to say to me? Please don't lie, I can feel it." The young man's voice seemed to be able to see through people's hearts.

The perspective suddenly recovered, and Clayton sat up. He stared at the person opposite him, and there was something in his voice that frightened Donna: "I do have some opinions, but are you sure you want to listen?"

"Yes." The young man said. He raised his head, revealing an extremely handsome face, and looked at Clayton seriously.

It was obviously the first time she saw this person, but his facial features made Donna feel very familiar.

The room was silent for a long time, and Clayton slowly spoke, gritting his teeth.

"Uren, sometimes I really hate you!"