Restricted Doomsday Syndrome Chapter 1379: Humanoid Hazama

    I actually don’t want to pretend to be a priest at all. I have a deep guard against and resistance to any form of religion and preachers. I always feel that when I hear preaching, there is a place in my heart that is softening, deforming, and becoming what I never thought of The way it was. Because of this feeling, I know that my heart is actually fragile. I am afraid of a change that I don't quite understand, as if I can't help but understand it. In fact, such changes happen every day.

    People grow up by accepting external information. This kind of growth is a deformation of being influenced by others. From this perspective, the information brought by the preacher is just one of a variety of information that promotes the growth or change of others.

    So, what am I afraid of? Perhaps it's just a sense of fear for the unforeseen future brought about by this foreseeable change-although you know that you will definitely change, you don't know what will happen to you? Will you become the one you least want to become?

    I think this kind of mood doesn't matter whether it is a child or an adult, it will have it.

    I resist any information that is obvious, foreseeable, perceivable, and feels that it might make me what I don’t want to be. For this reason, I don't want to be a disseminator of that kind of information. I think that such thoughts and emotions may not be correct, but they must not be wrong.

    In the face of these patients in front of me, I have to rely on the practice of Doomsday Prayer. I know that what I'm preaching is actually something that belongs to me, not something that is "correct" for everyone. I modified the "truth" of the Doomsday Truth, but it is still in a certain sense, the self-righteous "doomsday truth", in essence. It is not much different from the "doomsday truth" followed by Father Sisson and Father Edward.

     And I do this, in fact, is equivalent to another Father Sisson, another Father Edward-in this sense. I actually became my own enemy.

    How would I feel if the patient resisted my preaching? Would you be happier?

    However. The patients did not resist, on the contrary, just as I expected when I did this. They began to calm down and prayed. Although the pain of the past would stay in their hearts, they had the same dead eyes when they met me. With weird expectations, it may also be some kind of hope. I don't know what they are thinking, maybe some of them will pin their hopes on me, and I may still live up to this hope.

    I cannot be sure of the future situation, but, at least before my eyes, I saw that my "doomsday truth" was accepted by these people. Because I accepted it. So, they might live longer... I'm not sure, I just believe it. I have done everything I can do.

     Even if it goes against my own emotions, I have also acted as a fake priest, using hypocritical language to make people believe in the possibility of the future again.

    I am not sure this is correct, but it is my choice, I can only believe that this is not a mistake.

    I think it is necessary for me to change my outfit. My appearance is very young, but my actual age is also very young. Become a priest at such a young age. In my memory, there is only the illusion of the past apocalypse. Luan Zhong, a senior from my school, is a senior. But I am not confident, whether I also have the temperament of Luan Zhong-the temperament of a priest.

    If in an unusual environment. Then, mysterious attire will bring a mysterious temperament, and the language of preaching will affect people's trust. My words can calm the patients temporarily, but just maintaining the current appearance must not be enough.

    I am a senior mystery expert, but as a priest, I am still immature. For this, I need a change in appearance. Use changes in appearance to influence how others think of me.

    I walked off the altar and walked into the operating room at the back. The humanoid system is still kneeling in front of the operating table, praying quietly. When I walked in, she was still hanging her head, hiding her face under her hood.

    "Respected hunter..." Her voice, like the wind blowing from farther away, was blowing in my ears.

    I set my footsteps and looked around, looking for what I wanted.

    The humanoid system raised its eyes and said to me: "I heard it, dear hunter, you have brought peace to those poor people, thank you for your contribution."

    "This is just false peace. Their hearts have begun to mutate, and their bodies have begun to mutate. Both you and I know that there is nothing to stop such mutations. I am worried that they may not be alone. You can spend the deepest night, even if you are not actively attacked by monsters." I answered calmly, taking off the beak mask on the wall.

    "My heart is at peace, which is my hometown." The humanoid system gently stated: "In the face of an unchangeable destiny, there will always be people who rise up and resist, but the results are not always good. Dear hunter, I think , The despair felt because of resistance is far beyond what these poor people can bear, and they are unwilling to bear it, so instead of letting them understand, it is better for them to find peace in their lack of understanding and welcome the inevitable arrival. Fate."

    "I don't like this." As I said, I walked to the shelf to the side and turned out a thick book that I couldn't understand at all, but it looked like a textbook book. However, when I focused on the content above, I unexpectedly felt that what was recorded there was actually the content of my diary.

     However, in such a conscious nightmare, my soul is reflected, what is so strange?

    It appears at this moment, giving me a strange feeling. Its appearance itself seems to imply something, and it seems to reflect something deep in my heart. However, when it appeared, it was like saying to me: It's time to use it.

    I rubbed the hard cover.

     "I don't like this." I repeat.

     However, I know very well that, in fact, many times, I have no choice. Do it even if you don't like it. This is a situation that people who don't give up hope under any circumstances must face. Want to be a hero, the price is very cruel, but. Even if you can't be a hero, you still want to take care of others except yourself in the worst case. You also have to give something you didn't want to give.

    There is such a concept saying: Weak ability is a sin. However. In the face of a sudden disaster, even if it has been strong, it will become weaker than the disaster.

    The future is uncertain, and this uncertainty leads to not being strong in an absolute sense. So, when the disaster that is the end for everyone comes, does it mean that everyone is guilty? And the disaster that is facing is condemning everyone?

    If this argument is not accepted, then the argument that "weakness is a sin" is unfounded.

     However, even if weakness is not a sin, it is still cruel.

    I am strong, this is something I often tell myself. However, I also know that I am weak, because the facts always emphasize this to me.

    I don't like this. But it must be so. This is the proof of weakness.

    "You are a hunter. This is why you become a hunter, but they cannot become a hunter." Humanoids said, "First of all. You must admit that you are doing something you don’t want to do, and it’s necessary to do it. To do it, you must have a strong heart that carries it all."

    "I used to want to do what I thought was right." I turned my head and said to her: "But now, I can only choose to do something that I don't think is wrong. But it's not wrong that doesn't mean right."

    "Facts are not absolutely right or wrong." The humanoid system said: "Dear hunter, you don't have to mind."

    "The facts may not be there, but for individuals, it must be." I replied: "Why do I have to do this alone? In this place. I remember there are more hunters...before I also brought back some."

    "The hunters are dying and their **** is still there. But the soul is gradually destroyed. Now in this shelter, you are the last hunter in the true sense." The humanoid said: "Please don't believe Anyone. Don't trust any hunters except yourself."

    "Do you want me to do this? Do you think I am correct?" I asked.

    "But even if I don’t want it, dear hunter, you will still do it your own way, don’t you?" The humanoid system raised its head and looked up at the pattern on the ceiling, but it seemed to penetrate the ceiling. See something far away.

    "If I do this is a necessity. Then, what about you? In what capacity do you exist here?" I raised my volume a little, "Tell me, color."

    "What color?" The figure tilted her head, as if she didn’t understand who I’m talking about, but she didn’t pursue it, but said to me: "I don’t have any mission, I just exist here. However, when I met you, I gave myself a mission to assist you, respected hunter."

    "Why?" I asked.

    "There is no why. I just chose to do this. Maybe, this is the proof that I have a heart and a soul." The humanoid took off his hood, took off his beautiful long hair, revealing a smooth and full of evil. A human head—this kind of her is more like it than a human being. People deeply feel how serious it is when it says "the proof of the soul".

    I was not surprised by her inhuman image, but when she saw her take off her long hair and exposed the inhuman head, my heart probably stopped for a while.

    Perhaps, I have not only tried it once, although I call it a human form, she is still a human being.

     However, the facts have once again proved that things will never be what I expect in my heart, and my intuition is often more accurate than my imagination.

    The human figure wears her long hair back, and returns to the appearance of that taciturn beautiful girl.

    "You make your choice, and I also make my choice." She said: "I think, make your own choice, this is the reason I exist here."

    I used the thin chain I found to wrap the textbook to make it look more "meaningful". I dyed some lines with eye-catching red paint, and then hung it around my waist.

    "Can you fight?" I calmed down and asked.

    "Sorry, dear hunter, I cannot make such a judgment." The humanoid system dropped its head again.

    "It seems that I don't need to count on you." I already had a hunch, so I was not disappointed.

    "Sorry. But if you think this is correct, then do it." Humanoids said: "You don't need me, but I'm relying on you, dear hunter, please remember This. You don’t owe anyone, and you don’t need to rely on anyone."

    Yes, you are right, my love.

    Because, the people I have met are all in need of salvation, not to rely on.

    Therefore, there is no need to rely on others or owe anyone. Only monsters can be counted on.

    "In the end, it is still only me to choose, shall I decide?" I said.

    The figure is no longer speech.

    I don’t know why, but my heart, which was shaken because of the mission, suddenly calmed down. When I walked into the hall of the chapel again, I put on a bird's beak mask in front of the patients. The eyes of the patients fell on the textbook hanging around my waist-I call it "Luoshan City Textbook".

    People’s adventures are codified as stories, and when stories spread, they become legends. When time goes by, the legend is no longer, and the story will be transformed.

    I don’t know, if these patients were to read this "Luopan City Textbook", what they would see.

    I can see from their eyes, they are eager to read this story, but I can’t show it to them. As long as it is not spread, it will not become a legend. From the beginning, it is not a legend, but just a story that belongs to me. Therefore, this book is just me remembering myself and making myself more like a priest's ornament in their eyes, nothing more.

    I picked up the long knife again~IndoMTL.com~ Without saying anything to anyone, I just walked out.

    Outside the chapel, the moon is bleeding and the sky is burning. Ashes and sparks, like snow, covered the earth, tree crowns and roofs.

    The number of rooms with lights has been reduced a lot, and perhaps some people are just those gathered in the chapel. People I have seen in the past tried their best to avoid going out and avoid talking with outsiders. Even the so-called "shelter" can directly feel the anxiety and uncertainty in the air, as if every breath is Inhaling something that will hurt oneself into one's own body, people can't help holding their breath. In this case, escaping from your own home and going to the chapel may really be a last resort.

    I walked through the dim corners, investigating every house today. (To be continued)