"You lose!"

In the early morning darkness, at the entrance of the rain-filled alley, Mance wiped his clothes with his bone-ridden arms, "You are not my opponent."

He looked into the distance and saw that a hint of fish belly white had risen in the sky. Daytime was coming. He picked up the raincoat and gun that were thrown on the ground, put the Mauser pistol in the mouth of the fallen boy, and decided to wait until daylight came.

In one second, it directly exploded his head.

Time passed minute by second, and Mance kept the posture of pulling the trigger at any time. The night was not over yet, and he could see that the boy's beaten face, which was almost human-shaped, was slowly squirming and recovering, and the bent bridge of his nose was re-forming.

The swollen, bruised eyes slowly opened, and the cracked harelips also healed little by little.

"You're not resisting anymore?" He moved the gun away slightly and asked like a friend: "I tell you, you can still fight."

The pig-headed boy lay on the rainy ground and nodded slowly.

"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 slowly shook his head.

"Why don't you say anything? Daytime is coming and you will die if you don't say anything." After thinking about it, 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 moved but he made no sound. Out of respect for his opponent, Mance leaned down and put his ear to his mouth.

"I'm sorry..." He said in an inaudible voice.

sorry?

Why did you say sorry? Mance straightened up and frowned, feeling that the words were not meant for him.

At this time, the cumulonimbus clouds in the sky completely dissipated. Under the first glimmer of dawn, he saw the shadow of another person reflected in the water on the ground. That person was already standing silently.

behind oneself.

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

"drink!!"

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

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

Phew.

Mance saw a black spike coming out of his body, and then pulled it out. As the black spike entered his body, some kind of severe pain turned into a death signal and shot straight into 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, pulled out the black wand, and pointed his finger in the air.

Six burning candles appeared in the room.

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

"Hehehehahahahaha~"

At the same time, an inexplicable and weird child's laughter vaguely sounded 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 floated out. For a moment, he even forgot to breathe.

...

Bournemouth.

At the entrance of the alley less than a hundred meters away from the port, Mance clutched his chest. A stream of black energy gushes out from the punctured wound and spreads rapidly, as if he is holding something in his body.

It's not red blood, but a gas as black as ink.

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

The person who killed him either fled or went into hiding.

"Impossible...impossible...I have obviously broken it...impossible!!"

He turned his head crazily, trying to turn back time, but under the passage of black smoke, he found that he could not even control his body. He pressed his head against the wall, and his body continued to twitch and twist.

struggle....

"Damn!!"

"Why!!?"

"I've obviously reached this level?"

Unable to control himself, he roared crazily and was so confused that he could hardly extricate himself: "Who is it, who is it!?"

No one responded. The small black hole in his chest spread to his whole body. He could even hear something chewing in small mouths, chewing his soul. Every bite took away a part of the memory, and every bite took away a part of the memory.

One bite takes away some of your sanity.

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

At this time, when he saw Hoffa lying on the ground, as if he saw the last life-saving straw, he rolled and crawled on the ground, pressed on Hoffa, and grabbed his shoulders: "Tell me who it is."

!Tell me who it is?”

Hoffa fell to the ground, looking at the nascent sunlight and the fading moon in the distance, and turned a deaf ear to Mance's pleas. In fact, at the moment he destroyed the mistletoe, he already understood everything.

After fighting against each other so many times, he understood the character of the Muggle in front of him quite well. It was because of this understanding that he couldn't help but feel an unspeakable sympathy from the bottom of his heart. If he didn't have the most tenacious desire to survive, how could he develop such a terrifying behavior?

His desire to control. But all of this quickly fell apart as he played with it.

"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, as long as you tell me..."

Silent and speechless.

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

"tell me!"

"tell me!"

"tell me!"

He shouted crazily, his voice even trembling with tears.

"You know right?"

"Please."

"Please..."

.......

The sound gets lower and lower until it disappears completely.

Hoffa didn't say a word.

Finally, Mance lowered his head and let go of his hand. At this moment, all order was completely out of control. Confusion swallowed him, and he leaned back. He leaned against the corner full of water and stared at the sky blankly: "

Is my vision still too narrow...?"

he asked in a low voice.

The black smoke from his chest filled his head, floated over his cheeks, and dissipated little by little in the night sky. After the black smoke dissipated, his body completely collapsed and became black, thin, and skinny.

The hair was dry, like a corpse that had been dead for many years.

...

...

The dawn sun gradually rose, and some scavengers wearing ponchos appeared on the streets of Bournemouth. A melodious air raid siren sounded in the distance. No one knew that the actual savior of the city had become integrated with it.

One body.

Thick exhaustion surged into Hoffa's heart. He sat against the wall next to Mance's small, dark mass of bones, just like two migrant workers preparing to smoke on the bricks of the construction site after a hard day's work.

It's finally over.

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

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

However, he couldn't help but feel confused. After everything he experienced, he was no longer sure what he wanted.

A palm pressed on his shoulder.

He looked back and saw that the nun whom he had placed on the far roof came to him. She was wet and trembling uncontrollably.

"Chloe..."

Hoffa looked at her with mixed feelings in his heart.

With a plop.

Chloe knelt down in the stagnant water and stared blankly at Mance's huddled corpse. After looking at it for a while, she turned her head away and asked Hoffa tremblingly: "Am I going to hell?"
To be continued...