【Interstellar Contract Magician】Ruyuanke

Just then my mother came home.

"What is that?!" She had a strange expression on her face.

There was panic, disbelief, a flash of sadness, but more of it was anger.

Uncontrollable anger.

Seeing my mother getting angry because of the bookshelf that appeared out of nowhere, I quickly explained, "Mom, I don't know either. It..."

Before I could finish, “Throw it out!”

The mother yelled directly.

I was stunned.

Her roar became even more violent: "I told you to throw it out!!"

……

Although I didn't understand my mother's emotions, I immediately obeyed and did as she said.

He immediately moved the bookshelf and picked up the axe before leaving.

I had just moved out of the house and hadn’t walked far when the entire bookshelf disappeared before my eyes…

……

It just disappeared...

……

Just as it had appeared when it first appeared, it was so unexpected and speechless...

……

But the key is in my hand and I can’t throw it away...

……

After that day, my mother collected a lot of plants at home.

Pots of them are placed in the house, in the kitchen, next to the stove...

The small yard was also fully planted.

From time to time, I can see villagers passing by saluting my house with admiration on their faces...

My mother would bring back plants almost every day.

Along with the plants, there are the scars on my mother's body...

……

I don't understand.

Every night before going to bed, my mother would drag her tired body and push the newly brought flowers in front of me.

“You feel the feeling, and then feel the feeling again.”

I didn't understand what my mother wanted me to feel.

"Do you feel anything?" the mother asked anxiously.

I could only shake my head silently.

"Feel it again, feel it well!"

……

One day, my mother brought back a flower with thorns on its stem. She called it a rose.

The way my mother looks at it is different from the way she looks at all other flowers.

So warm.

Just like my mother’s injury today.

So passionate...

I understand, it is my mother's favorite. It is like my mother's spear.

But at night, it came into my arms again.

It's been by my bed every night since then...

Mother, I really don’t understand.

……

You have gone out countless times, whether fighting or hunting, and have never been injured...

Why do I have to suffer so much pain in exchange for these plants...

And why do you place your favorite flowers by my bed every night...

I really don’t need…

Don't get hurt anymore...

I really don’t need…

Don't get hurt anymore...

I really don’t need…

I really don’t need…

……

Coming to the river again, I have developed the habit of bringing an axe with me whenever I go out.

Just like my mother, she always carries a spear when she goes out.

The scars on my body are falling off bit by bit.

Scabbed, scabs falling off, new flesh exposed, tender red, brown, scars...

They are all fading a little bit.

I looked at my face in the reflection.

It won't be long before this face becomes clean.

Like my mother before, fair and clean...

only……

The mother today has become the me of the past.

There are beautiful wounds on my body that will never heal.

The once fair and delicate face is now covered with dense scars.

Mixed within it are yesterday's old wounds, today's new wounds, and tomorrow's future wounds...

Densely packed, covering the once smooth and flawless face.

Wrapped around...that originally hard heart.

Yes……

……

I thought my mother would be happy if I did it.

But since then she...

Not only did she lose her beautiful face, but she also lost a heart as strong as a knife.

That's right.

I could feel my mother disintegrating...

……

From the inside, breaking myself down bit by bit.

It was the sound of fragments of faith rolling down from the top of the mountain.

boom!

Clap!

Guluuluulu...

Like the thunder that lights up the night sky.

Wherever it goes, everything is crushed into juice.

The juice of the wind, the juice of the clouds, the juice of the trees, flowers and grass on both sides of the mountain, the juice of the gravel, the juice of the soil, and the juice flowing from the boulder-like fragments of faith themselves.

Mixed together, each with its own color... a riot of color, ultimately blending into a rotting earthy brown. Like a swamp, emitting scalding bubbles.

Wherever the rotten liquid flows, everything withers.

The tree trunk, like a rotten banana peel, drooped and collapsed to the ground, crouching and curled in a strange posture.

The land was dyed red...

Yes, red.

The red color of blood.

Red from old blood.

And... the rotting blood, still red...

……

That is the blood in the mother's heart.

Day after day, she used the blood on her body, the blood within her body, repeating the same thing day after day, using the blood that flowed from her body to wash away the blood in her heart that could not flow. Rotting blood. Blood that had been suffocated to the point of rotting... rotting blood that could no longer flow.

……

She is purifying herself in her own way.

Purifying your heart.

Purifying...what little is left...

what is it then?

……

I don't understand.

Mother, I really don’t understand.

I really don’t understand…