Stray

    The grey parrot seemed to sense something, it hesitated for a while, and very proactively asked to watch the wind outside - even if everyone knew that this broken place had no value for watching the wind.

    "There's a very uncomfortable feeling in there!" Bagelmoru rubbed his claws on the nearest branch, "It's like an instinctive kind of... ahem, you two Forget it, I really don't know how Della Reinen got over it, that guy is so bold."

    But since that superior demon has calmly entered, the two of Tumbleweed have no reason to retreat.

    Considering the cleanliness of the abandoned wooden house, even if he mastered the cleaning spell, Nemo was habitually rationalizing the robe on his body and tightening it a little. The lamp pole staff finally succeeded in taking on its own role, and the black bone ball began to emit a hazy light under the influence of the magic of the abyss.

    The first floor of the log house was more cluttered than they thought.

      Dark green moss and mushrooms make the ground slippery. Insect-free plants grow even better indoors than outside. The wooden cabinet door was crooked, and there was not much left, and the contents inside were so rotten that the original appearance could not be seen.

    However, he did not feel any abnormal breath on this floor, except that there were no small creatures such as insects and ants, everything was normal, and some common furniture and supplies were scattered on the ground.

    One hand raised the staff, Nemo squeezed Oliver's with the other. The two walked cautiously up the squeaky, rickety stairs—now they could perceive things in the dark, but in the unknown, the light was always more reassuring.

    The second level is also nothing special. There is only a common living room and kitchen on the first floor, and the bedroom and study are on the second floor. Compared to the first floor, which suffered badly, the second floor was much better off except for more vines and all kinds of furniture.

    The bed, where the bedding was almost rotten, was covered with verdant vines, and the dusty books were scattered on the shelves. The dust was as thick as the light snow in the morning. The ink bottle and pen holder are dusty, and they are arranged neatly for the time being.

    The scene of decay and loneliness.

    However, Della Layne, who was overly curious, didn't stop here, and there probably won't be any important clues here. Without staying too long, the two quickly climbed to the third floor.

    The first thing that got into my nose was a strange smell. It was like the rotten internal organs mixed with the potion, and they were burned to dry at the bottom of the pot. Unlike the first two floors with wide windows, Dellalainen just opened the window to bring a little light into the thick darkness.

    Nemo slammed the staff on the ground, and a lot of light **** emerged from the bone **** at the top of the staff, sticking to the four walls of the attic. Under the bright light, the room immediately felt like daylight.

    Then they saw the corpse in the center of the attic for the first time.

    They really improved a lot, Nemo thought numbly. If the two of them had changed a few months ago, they would have had projectile vomiting at the same time.

    The thing that looked like a human corpse was sitting upright in the back chair with its back to the window and its head lowered. Even though the environment was moist and warm, the corpse showed no signs of decay, and was closer to a mummified corpse.

    The deceased was almost naked, with only a piece of coarse cloth around his lower body. The long, dry beard on his face and the few remaining strands of white hair indicated his age.

    They can only judge by this - not because the skin of the corpse is dark and wrinkled from the loss of moisture, but because it is almost beyond recognition, and they can only barely recognize the dead human by the shape of the bones identity of.

    Without split face and torso, the exposed wrinkled skin was full of eyes and shrunken into a ball. There are hundreds or thousands of them in different sizes and shapes, and they appear to be forcibly embedded. The bigger ones are the size of an apple, and the smaller ones are like the compound eyes of flies. They are arranged on the skin of the corpse in a strange pattern, and at first glance they look like some kind of skin disease that makes everyone feel uncomfortable.

    Nemo even felt a faint breath of abyss from the corpse. It seems that the owners of those eyes were not limited to surface creatures.

    "This is the butcher's introducer you're looking for. I have an impression of his smell. The name is... Forget it, it doesn't matter, it's just mediocre." He patted the back of the chair, brought his face close with interest, and looked at those rotten eyeballs.

    Nimo looked away unbearably and stared at Oliver's face for half a minute before calming down. Oliver's face was not much better than his - the head of the tumbleweed was livid, looking intently at the ground.

    Nemo followed Oliver's line of sight, and the tumbling feeling in his throat reappeared.

    The floor is littered with animal carcasses, rotted to the point of bone and fur. At first glance it looks like an odd thick rug.

    "Your definition of 'mediocre' is really broad." Nemo murmured to Della Lainene, "How did he… die?"

    "Is there any chance of finding a record here?" Oliver added another question.

    No longer staring at the piles of corpses on the floor, Oliver carefully stepped over them to a shelf by the wall - a dusty shelf with record hedrons neatly arranged, and the lower level It's a neatly organized file box. Stacks of embalmed parchment were piled in the corners, well preserved.

    Deralainen didn't say a word, he took out a watchmaker's glasses from his arms and focused on the skin of the corpse. He was humming a little tune that sounded very pleasant.

    Seeing that the sage of the abyss was completely immersed in his own world, Nemo shook his head, crossed the corpse pile, and moved to Oliver's side.

    "Some cheap recording crystals." Oliver was rubbing the hem of his clothes on a dirty crystal that could not be seen. "It seems that this gentleman is really not very rich."

    "According to the remaining magical fluctuations, these things are recorded at least ten years ago." Nemo crouched down and pulled out the dusty data box, choking on the dust. Cough a few times. The unpleasant smell lingered on the tip of his nose, making it a little difficult for him to breathe.

    He flipped through the parchment in his hand: "Look, this is older, this document is more than 40 years ago. There is no signature, it seems that our introducer doesn't like it Leave names everywhere."

    "What was written?" Oliver stuck his head out.

    "It's all about the abyss." Nemo frowned.

    The information in hand is a comprehensive analysis of the abilities of a certain superior demon, and various conclusions drawn from it. The owner of the house was not very good at writing, and his notes were scribbled to death, making it difficult to read.

    The long formulas are crowded together, thin and dense, and very difficult to identify. The gentleman even marked a note written in another color of ink next to the calculation that was about to become a mess. The notes written in Common are more recognizable than the pile of self-created symbols that God knows what they represent.

    【We have reason to believe that surface creatures and abyss creatures have the same upper limit of power-this undoubtedly makes the hair stand on end, we must understand the principle in advance. Witherable Castle continues to challenge the upper limit of the surface, stupid behavior. Unfortunately, as a gatekeeper with different research directions, I have no right to intervene. Someone has to take care of them. 】

    The two turned to look at the terrifying corpse with complicated expressions. The night was silent, and the little tunes of Della Lenien reverberated in the air. The demon took out a lot of weird metal tools and was seriously cutting the skin of the corpse.

    Thinking that this nasty guy was his own creation, Nemo gave a desperate "uh" and looked back.

    Mr. Demon King, with a complicated heart, took out several data boxes, trying to find the right data at the right time. His hero fiddled with the phonograph spar in his hand, trying to find the magic circle that inspired him. The corrosiveness of the gray fog was too strong, and Oliver did not dare to test recklessly—if the only record was destroyed, the fun would be great.

    Nemo is much faster than the slow Oliver. He let go of the shadow, quickly swept through the documents on the paper, and quickly locked a thick stack of them.

    "Hey, Ollie." Nemo poked Oliver, who was still concentrating on dealing with the hedron. "Data from twenty-three years ago."

    "Are you finished?" Oliver glanced at the dark tentacles of the parchment before he could release it.

    "Not quite, this person's research habits are very...self. I just confirmed the date, it's faster."

    Besides, in this strange situation, Nemo did not want to contact the truth in advance alone.

    "But this looks a little different from the pile just now." Oliver picked up one of the piles, and the writing on it became more and more scribbled.

    Nimo raised his eyebrows and picked up a few.

    Compared with the boring formulas and annotations of previous years, this year's formulas are much less, but there are many more creepy illustrations, and the handwriting has become very distorted.

    [I asked her to help bring a specific middle-level demon, she brought it, and was unwilling to leave. She must have noticed something. My girl, she's always been so sharp. It's a pity she left the gatekeeper, I...]

    The following text has been roughly crossed out. Next to the handwriting is an anatomical diagram of a middle-level demon, and the eyes are drawn with blood-red thin lines and formulas.

    Oliver's breathing stopped for a few seconds, and Nemo raised his head sharply, just in time to meet the other party's gaze - Oliver grabbed Nemo's robe and shook the parchment in his hand, Signal your lover to get closer.

    [As a representative of Void Castle, I officially applied to Wither Castle today. The Forge of Flesh must be destroyed, it's too early for humans. Theories are just theories and cannot reveal the truth. Blindfolded by arrogance, the people of Blight Castle have forgotten the basic principles of gatekeepers. 】

    [They asked me to show evidence, but I did not keep it. It is not knowledge that should be passed on, it is taboo, it is the key to destruction. We are surrounded by the darkness of ignorance, which is not our enemy but our cradle. 】

    "...this thing is about to become poetry." Nemo whispered, "what is he trying to express?"

    "I don't know. But look at these notes... Well, our butcher's introducer's mental state is not very good." Oliver replied in a low voice.

    Then they all held their breaths for the next record on paper.

    [Mr. Lopez knows this as well, and I don't think I need to destroy his memory specifically. Regarding the transaction with Mr. Lopez, I erased some records, if anyone reads this material in the future...please don't bother restoring it, it's lost forever. 】

    Nimo swallowed hard, he hated this feeling - he had closed his eyes, and when the truth came to him, the truth disappeared into the dark.

    He continued reading in frustration.

    [She peeked at the record, my lovely girl. As smart as she is, she may be aware of a clue. But that's okay, I've left out the most critical part. Her research can never go beyond my discoveries, and I will carry mine to the grave. As a gatekeeper, it is my responsibility to guard against this danger. 】

    【But I want to see that scene. 】

    "And then he made himself like that?" Oliver's voice was a little hoarse, and he clenched the phono spar in his hand. "...What did my father say in the first place?"

    "Oli..."

    Nemo patted Oliver weakly on the arm.

    Things start to get scary.

    The following information is still full of records, but it is no longer scribbled formulas and diary-like notes. The butcher's introducer - or rather the gatekeeper's words were obviously a lot less, and the parchment was full of limb modifications and strange spells that people couldn't understand.

    Then they appear less and less and are gradually replaced by a sentence.

    Nimo had a chill behind his back. He took out the materials of the next few years from the nearby information box and found that the content was the same sentence.

    [I want to see. 】

    The parchment is filled with repeated words, the dates are changing, one after another. Bloodstains and oddly colored wet marks began to appear on the parchment.

    It shouldn't be.

    Nemo didn't even dare to use the shadow again, and the two quickly rummaged through the remaining paper.

    Ten minutes later, they finally found the end of the record, and it made Nemo feel even worse.

    The last record left by the old man is only two sentences, no longer the cursed repeated prayer, just two simple sentences. It's like it was written with blood on the finger, and the handwriting is full of madness.

    [I see. 】

    [Born in this world is a great honor. 】

    Nimo only felt a block of ice slip into his stomach. Oliver may not understand the meaning of this sentence, but he is very clear. Someone said this to him, not long ago, in the Church of Silent.

    That was the last words of the Abyssal Bishop Hagen Ingram.