Preface Traveler on

"Finally, a new volume has been opened. The previous volume is too long, and I'm going crazy after writing."

The moonlight shines on the earth covered with thick snow, making the ground a layer of cold silver light that makes people feel palpitated and can't help but want to escape. A traveler is the only active life in this dead world. He walked on the fluffy snow with one foot and one foot, making a creaking sound like a skeleton shelf shaking.

The traveler only wears a thin shirt that is not warm. The shirt frozen by the frost clung to the traveler's body, but he still stubbornly moved forward as if he didn't feel cold. He gasped violently, but did not spit out white air. His face showed a diswarm iron blue, as if it were a body that had been dead for a long time.

His reason told him that he could not hold on any longer. His spirit has been overdrawn and he urgently needs to rest. Even if he lies in the snow that is enough to freeze people into ice, he wants to have a good sleep. However, he didn't feel the fatigue of his body at all, and he didn't even feel the cold around him. His body is like an alchemy puppet with an energy core, like a permanent mechanical device, moving forward tirelessly. The opposite senses scare the travelers. He tried his best to find the source of fear. However, except for some incomplete and meaningless memory fragments, he really can't remember more.

The traveler's heart is full of sad depression. He felt at a loss, as if abandoned by the world. The only thing that can comfort him is that there is always a voice and a belief in his empty heart. He couldn't hear what the constant sound was saying, but he could vaguely feel that it was a vow. An engraved in the depths of his soul has become an instinctive oath of his body. It was because of its existence that the traveler's heart as if he had died regained a strong desire to survive, so that he did not stop walking.

When an hour later, when the traveler struggled to climb to the top of a hill, he saw the scenery that made him cheer.

At the foot of the dark mountain, there is a bright light. The yellow firelight penetrated the thick darkness without bounds and suppressed the breathless and desperate silver moonlight, like a lighthouse standing on the cliff by the sea, guiding the direction of the lost.

The atmosphere in the brightly lit hotel is **. The burning flames in the fireplace danced with the music, making a pleasant crackling sound. The exposed waitress shuttled back and forth, filling the men with a glass of spirits, while the men raised their glasses again and again to cheer the dancing dancers on the stage.

"Squeak--

The old door of the hotel made a bad sound. The sudden cold wind made the guests staying by the door stop their movements. They shivered and stared angrily at the guy who walked in through the door.

The traveler stood at the door. Several unwipeed blood stains were faintly visible on his face. The broken shirt, almost striped trousers, and dull eyes made him look like a poor man patroned by robbers.

"An unlucky man." Someone next to him muttered.

"I really don't know how this guy survived."

"Goddess of luck bless you."

The traveler turned a deaf ear to their judgment, motionless like a sculpture, and only a pair of eyes maintained their vitality. He turned his eyes and glanced across the head-heading hotel. His blue eyes were as cold and shuddering as death's gaze. The guy who looked at him involuntarily avoided his sight and trembled with fear secretly.

Only a careless guy did not notice the strangeness of the traveler and shouted at the traveler, "Stupid! Close the door! You want to freeze to death, but I don't want to!" When the traveler hooked his hand and closed the door with his stiff fingers, he still cursed a few words before turning his eyes back to the stage in the hall. For him, the enchanting body of the dancer attracted his attention more.

The hotel owner immediately noticed the guests who patronize his shop near midnight. He almost instinctively planned to kick out the extremely depressed travelers who could not pay for the house. However, he was not cruel when he thought of the weather outside that would freeze to death. He stepped forward.

"Guest, is this your first time to come to the store?" The hotel owner said in a respectful tone. His face was covered with a businessman's unique smile, but his smile looked very sincere, which made travelers not feel hypocritical and disgusted.

The traveler was puzzled by the attitude of the hotel owner. Yes, why are you..." He said slowly in astringently.

The hotel owner's slightly drooping eyes showed respect, which also made him look at him carefully when the travelers could not notice it.

At the previous moment, the vicious hotel owner found the dignity of the traveler's identity. The shirt that can only be used to cover the other party's body is made of expensive and smooth silk; although the scabbard on the belt is full of mud and ice, you can also see the coat of arms on it. These all explain the identity and status of the traveler.

"I'm Warren, the owner of this hotel. What's your name, please?

Warren smiled and cleverly changed the topic by asking questions.

"My name?" The traveler was obviously stunned for a moment. His eyes approached dullness and seemed to be in a strange state. His fist was clenched, his blue veins protruding, and his cold sweat couldn't help overflowing, as if he was suffering great pain. He felt like his head was stuffed into an expanding sponge, as if it would explode the next moment. After a while, the swelling and pain eased, and the traveler's ugly face gradually returned as usual. He took a long breath and said in a hoarse voice, "Xia...you can call me Charlotte."

Warren showed fear and confusion about the terrible appearance of the traveler Charlotte, but wisely did not ask too much. He just asked politely, "Mr. Charlotte, did you meet a robber?"

"Yes..." Charlotte replied vaguely.

To be honest, even Charlotte herself doesn't know what happened to her. His memory is like a piece of paste. A mess. Countless broken pictures are unorganized and mixed together, like garbage discarded in the corner.

Warren nodded with understanding. He thought Charlotte didn't want to talk too much about terrible memories.

"Well, Mr. Charlotte, please follow me." Warren guided Charlotte through the noisy bar and said, "What you need now is a thick dress, a good glass of spirits, and then enough rest to completely forget the sympathetic disaster you have encountered."

"Hmm." Charlotte responded absent-mindedly. He did not refuse the kindness of the hotel owner. Under Warren's guidance, he went to the fireplace and sat down. In the fireplace, firewood burned enthusiastically, and the mischievous flames surrounded Charlotte with a satisfying sigh of warmth. However, Charlotte did not feel the heat of the flame, as if he could not feel the cold.

A fear deep into his bone marrow gripped his heart. He doesn't know what's wrong with his body. He feels like a monster. His body began to shake violently. Even when he trekked hard in the snow, his mind was distracted and full of illusions, he was not so weak. He clumsily wanted to put his hand into the hot flames. However, when he stretched out half of his hand, the loud laughter around him made him shiver. He quickly took his hand back and hid it under the wet and steaming shirt as if it were a cover. His face was covered with dead gray.

Warren, who left temporarily, quickly returned with something. He was holding a dinner plate and a thick cotton-padded jacket on his arm.

"Mr. Charlotte," the hotel owner said apologetically, "because the hotel room is full in this damn weather. If you don't mind, you can stay here for one night. Here is a glass of dwarf spirits and some food.

"Thank you for your hospitality." Charlotte tried to control her emotions and try her best to make herself look like a normal person. Therefore, he couldn't wait to wrap his cotton-padded jacket around him, took a glass of liquor handed over by the hotel owner, and took a big sip. The strong smell of inferior wheat in the cracked foam made him cough loudly. In addition, he had no other feelings - including the burning sensation of the liquor.

Monster! Monster! A voice appeared suddenly and roared in his heart. Charlotte tried to refute, but all the evidence he found was proving to him that the voice was correct. Despair, which was more terrible than fear, spread quickly like a plague, trying to occupy Charlotte's mind.

Mr. Charlotte? Mr. Charlotte?"

The hotel owner's timely shouts let Charlotte escape from the dark abyss. His back arched like a shrimp, like a fish leaving the water gasping, and the cold projection in his blue eyes frightened the hotel owner.

Warren swallowed his saliva, lowered his body as if fleeing, picked up Charlotte's glass that fell to the ground, put it on the low table beside him, and motioned a waitress to pour the liquor again.

Warren tried his best to pull out an ugly smile. Are you still thinking about your companion? He asked.

Charlotte was silent as if she hadn't heard it.

He lowered his head, like a soldier without fighting spirit, and collapsed on the lounge chair like the lowest maggot.

"Mr. Charlotte, please forgive me for talking." After thinking about it, Warren still thought carefully and said slowly, "You are luckier than your companion. Because you are still alive."

Wren's words made Charlotte raise his ears and make him plan to listen to others. But he still didn't say anything.

"Anyway," Warren said, "as long as people are alive, there will be hope - whether it's revenge or something else."

The hotel owner may have seen through people coming and going and has the simplest view of things. However, what he said is simple, but it is difficult to do. Charlotte didn't even know whether he was still alive - his body was like a monster in the night that people were afraid of - and he didn't know if he had any hatred. Who made him like this? Is it a wizard or a god? Should I hate them? He doesn't know anything. He was trapped in the heavy fog and tightly bound, with desperate hard stone walls around. He tried his best to think, but he still couldn't find a clue. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't hear what Warren said next, and he didn't even know that Warren had left.