Hoffa stared blankly at Aglaia, who looked indifferent, and asked hoarsely: "You...what have you experienced???"

Bang bang bang!!

But his question was interrupted by a burst of thunderous applause.

He turned around and looked around for the source of the applause, but saw no one.

At the same time, a strong feeling of dizziness surged into his brain, and the dizziness became heavier and heavier. Then, the space he was in stretched infinitely, and Aglaia's transparent body was like a red-shifted star in the universe.

, getting further and further away from him.

Everything in front of me was blurred and deformed. The crucible, the crypt, and Aglaia were all stripped out. Finally, a stage was formed.

Outside the stage, there were countless ghosts applauding him, and behind the ghosts was an endless void. In the void, Avadana's black head, which was as big as a planet, held up a microphone, held the stage with one hand, and spoke enthusiastically with cracked white teeth.

Shout: "Look, another man has reached the last challenge. In this feast of life, how many people can know the future, how many people can know their destiny and be extremely calm. My answer is, zero!!

So now let us invite you, the ultimate challenge of the Death Game, the last opponent of the legendary wizard Hoffabach, the self from the future, the master of the chaotic consciousness, the guide in the depths of the soul, the God of Nightmares!!"

Tick ​​tock.

The elongation of space stopped abruptly, and Avada's voice disappeared from Hoffa's ears. The ghost, Avada, the universe, the starry sky, and the stage all disappeared.

It was like a switch tripped, and everything fell into darkness.

"etc......"

"etc!?"

Hoffa shouted anxiously: "What on earth have you experienced? Aglaia, tell me..."

No one answered.

He groped in the darkness, grabbed a person, and shook him vigorously: "Tell me, tell me!"

"Tell you what?" someone struggled to say in the darkness.

Tell me what...?

Hoffa himself was confused for a moment, with some amnesia in his trance, and everything that had just happened was quickly forgotten.

When he opened his eyes again, he found that he was holding on to the collar of a black bartender. The black bartender was holding a piece of white cloth and looking at him suspiciously.

"Hey, buddy, can you stop doing it? Is there anything that drinking can't solve?"

"Sorry," Hoffa muttered and slowly let go of his hand.

He found himself standing in a completely unfamiliar place. It looked like the interior of a British street bar. The bar was decorated very stylishly, with crystal lamps, mahogany bar counters, inverted glasses, and elegant light music. At first glance, it was not for ordinary gangsters.

In the consumption area, most of the drinkers sitting here are dressed as professional elites. They sit and drink very quietly, rarely saying anything.

"What do you want?"

asked the black bartender.

"What kind of wine do you have?"

Hoffa asked casually, feeling a little uneasy.

"There is a menu here, take a look at it yourself."

The bartender pulled out a drink list from under the table and handed it over.

Hoffa took it and took a look. The words on the menu that originally labeled alcoholic beverages had changed into some weird words, such as "coward", "family discord", "father and son fighting each other", and "save me".

】...There are some inexplicable words all the way down.

"What the hell?"

He was a little puzzled, and then looked at the small blackboard behind the bartender with today's special price. The names of the wines marked on it were also "Save me." or sos or something like that.

This made him a little curious, so he pointed at a drink and said, "Give me a glass of wine."

The black bartender nodded, and professionally picked up the shaker and ice cubes and started shaking them. With the help of the smooth silver surface of the shaker, Hoffa found that he had returned to his normal appearance, with gray hair and golden eyes, and was very young.

After a while, the black bartender put a glass of mixed wine in front of Hoffa and said, "Your father and son are fighting each other, so use it with caution."

Hoffa picked up the ordinary-looking cocktail and was about to taste it.

Boom!

The sound of thunder and heavy rain could be heard outside the bar.

A young man in a suit opened the door with a bang, stumbled and sat on the high stool next to Hoffa, and asked breathlessly: "Where is this place? Are we out?"

Hoffa looked at the young man in a suit sitting next to him. He had chestnut hair and pale complexion. He looked almost exactly the same as Miranda, except that he had no breasts. Rainwater flowed from his wet hair and dripped down his pointed chin.

It fell on the bar, which made people feel distressed.

"No." He picked up the wine glass and took a sip. It was slightly bitter in the mouth but sweet in the aftertaste: "We are in a dream."

"Dream?" Miller asked in surprise.

"yes."

"Are you kidding me? We were fine just now. Just now... just now..." As he spoke, Miller touched his head in confusion: "What just happened?"

"Can't remember, can you?"

"A little confused..."

Hoffa took another sip of wine and sighed: "People will not remember the specific time and place in the dream, nor will they care about the specific appearance of themselves in the dream, or even how it started.

"

"Do you remember?"

"I remember some."

"Why can you remember?" Miller whispered unwillingly.

"Huh, I don't even know how many times I've had this dream."

Hoffa shook the glass, and the empty glass turned out to be full again. He picked up the glass and said to himself: "These absurd details, the completely unconventional transition, and the full of foreshadowing."

Meaningful environment..."

Miller: "Stop talking nonsense. What happened? Tell me quickly."

"I played a game with the God of Death. Only if I beat him can I take Aglaia away and leave Helheim. Otherwise, I will stay in the underworld forever."

"Then what?"

"The God of Death chose three opponents for me in the game. They are the past me, the present me, and the future me. The past me has been defeated by me, and the present me is the one you just saw.

The monster has been turned into blood, and as for me in the future..."

Hoffa put down his wine glass, shook his head, and held his chest, speechless.

Countless broken images flashed before his eyes, thinking of the original transaction request between the God of Nightmares and himself, his empty house in his old age, the gun stuffed into his mouth, and what awaited him fifty years ago.

The mission felt like a huge mountain was weighing on my back and it was difficult to breathe.

Miller grabbed his hand: "What's wrong with you?"

Hoffa shook his head, closed his eyes, took a few hard breaths, gritted his teeth and said, "It's nothing."

He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead: "I can control dreams in the future. This is the dream he created for us."

"You in the future..." Miller thought for a moment, then suddenly changed his expression, "So, have you decided to go back to fifty years ago?"

"Do I have a choice?" Hoffa smiled bitterly and shook the wine glass in his hand: "There should be my shadow in your past. Tell me, what does it look like?"

Miller's expression changed several times, from shock to uneasiness, then from uneasiness to indifference, and he turned his head.

"In that case, there's nothing to say."

"What's not good about learning? Why learn from Aglaia?"

Hoffa said calmly, "Is there anything I can't say?"

Miller suddenly looked very angry. He suddenly grabbed Hoffa's collar: "Listen, I don't want you to go back, not at all!"

"Oh?" Hoffa was stunned: "You are the only one who told me that."

"Damn it, Hoffa!" Miller pulled his clothes tightly with his hands, strangling his neck and deforming it. "Everything you do now may change the future. No future is static.

of."

"Why doesn't everything and every choice shape the future?"

Miller's mouth opened slightly. After a while, he let go of his hand and stood up. The bottle on the bar clinked when he touched it: "No, I refuse to accept your idea."

Everyone in the bar looked at Miller, and Hoffa quickly pulled him to sit down. Only then did the people in the bar look back silently.

The black bartender took another step forward, handed Miller a white towel to wipe away the rain, and asked politely, "What do you want?"

"Gin and tonic," Miller muttered.

A transparent glass wine glass filled with ice balls was placed in front of Miller. He took a sip of the amber wine. He put his head to Hoffa's ear and whispered: "Listen, Hoffa, if you don't admit that this is

No one can force a future on your head."

"I know."
To be continued...