Restricted Doomsday Syndrome Chapter 1242: Death news
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Drop in, retreat, flick the hook rope, and pull the weirs in the footsteps. Standing at the entrance of the altar, the narrow space prevents any weird body that is huge or sensitive. Excessive numbers allow them to be used as shields before being solved by me. They don't have much intelligence and can't climb up from the side mountain after leaving the steps. They also cannot fly and cannot use long-range attacks. They have different shapes, humanoids, beasts, and some are completely different from the two, and it is impossible to tell what they are from the human aesthetics, but these appearances do not show matching actions. Ability and intelligence, they look like beasts.
Even so, if left unattended, their aggressiveness and physique abilities exceeding normal humans will inevitably cause great danger to ordinary people. Not everyone is the same as me. Not everyone can endure the smell, grotesque and terrifying appearance that come with them. I have just arrived in this nightmare, so I don’t know what those in residential areas are. When a mental patient sees them, will they collapse, and when a normal person sees them, will they be crazy again?
Even, when I look at them, I can't help but have an association-is there any difference between the way I see them and the way others see them?
I’m not sure about too many things, but it makes me think that I have to do this. The reason to kill these weirdness in this way is based on what I have observed and what I guess based on these observations. sex. And the expectations of some people around him, including the unwillingness and pain that Old Hawke vaguely expressed before his death. And when I opened my eyes, I was the first to see a humanoid woman named "Sei", which gave me good impression, and my concerns about Marceau, who was also selected as a patient in the Peninsula Mental Hospital.
Suppose at this moment in the Peninsula Hospital. All the testers who took the new drugs in the seminar-I am almost certain that all the patients in the regular consultations are testers-will enter this nightmare. Then, these ugly and crazy weirdness in front of them will probably also appear in them. In front of it. What we see will probably not be too far apart. And he may also be affected to a certain extent when he acts in this nightmare.
Although these influences are subtle, the words left by Old Hawke make people have to be more vigilant.
Maybe one day in the future, I can save everyone. And I dreamed so too. But at the moment, I am very clear and have accepted that I can only choose some people to help according to my own ideas, instead of treating everyone equally and helping according to their expectations. On my list, in addition to Marceau, Sakuya, Hakjing, Seishi, Dorothy and Mae and other family members. Everyone else has an order, from highest to lowest.
In my own heart, I distinguish others in this way. I feel ashamed and know very well that this is by no means a hero. But I was willing to endure this kind of shame, this kind of sorrow of dream loss, and watched the pain others are suffering, and chose this approach.
I have already admitted. I am not a hero anymore.
Even so, I never felt proud of myself like this. Instead, there is a kind of depression, depression, and anger. It has always been accumulated deep in my heart, and only when faced with the fear caused by "Jiang" and "virus" will it disappear. I think this is the reason why I can get used to the incomparable horror. Because the fear it brings to me is actually a kind of purification, a kind of relief, for myself.
And now, every time I swing a knife, every time I bind a weird, drag it down and block other weirdness, let them die in helplessness, can clearly feel those negative emotions, positive Turned into a kind of scorching power, in these weapons, surging in this move. On the contrary, with every attack, my heart feels more and more peaceful, as if it is slowly settling in the cold and deep lake.
I am not particularly afraid of this phenomenon, because through some aggressive behavior, venting one's own negative emotions such as anger, sadness and pain is an impulse that every ordinary person will have. Morality and humanity respond to this. Impulse is restrained, but it is not. Once you do such a behavior, you will no longer be an ordinary person. It must be a psychological problem. On the contrary, such behavior is actually a very normal commonality.
The changes I felt in this nightmare, both internally and externally, only reflect this commonality.
Therefore, I don’t care. I don’t want to make such a subjective and cathartic attack just because I feel that there will be such an impulse. This is the beginning of some kind of alienation. As a mystery expert, I know more about what alienation is than ordinary people. Whether it comes from "Jiang", from "virus", or from "Saya", "White Claudia", "Gray Demon", "Trojan Virus", or even the wizard of Doomsday Truth Face masks, etc., the alienation produced has an extremely obvious common point, that is, this alienation is not to turn good people into bad people, or to turn good-tempered people into crazy weird people, but to turn people into crazy people. It is torn out from the standard that it defines as "human", and in a subtle or relatively rude way, it becomes inhuman relative to "human".
And this non-human standard is not static. When people change the standard of being human, those alienation from "mystery" will still compare individuals or groups with this changed standard. , Transformed into a relatively inhuman.
The most obvious one is Saya, who always puts people in a state of "sensory distortion". What is always displayed in front of the infected person is the "fake, evil and ugliness" of his own judgment, the foreign objects under observation. The form is always a posture disgusted by the infected, and it will not be regarded as “truth, good and beautiful” because the infected person is used to these “false, evil, and ugly”-because when the infected person’s own judgment standards change , Saya’s standards will change accordingly.
This is the scariest part of Saya.
Compared with these terrible alienation, the power surging from my body at this time, even if it comes from my negative catharsis, still belongs to the human category. Put it on ordinary people. If these negative emotions are not vented, it is indeed possible for people to do things that violate normal moral concepts, but for me, such changes are already in the past.
Even if I am in the process of killing these weirdness. Feeling one's own purification and tranquility will not deliberately target them purely to get such feelings. From the beginning, I knew very well what I was fighting with them here.
Kill them. It's just an unavoidable scenery in the process of reaching the goal.
Thinking about this, I used a very templated, repetitive and uninspiring way to clean up the weird people who were stuck on the steps.
It's easy though. However, the feeling brought by the battle itself has already made me understand what the abilities I used and the way I showed in this nightmare were all about. In terms of theory, there is no need to mention it. Although there is a difference on the surface, in general, I was in other nightmares in the past. There is not much difference in the nature of the power used.
After all, even if the scenery, atmosphere, and various external manifestations are more unique, this is just a nightmare.
I put the long knife back into its sheath and sprinted down the same route as I came. I was already on the altar, overlooking the surrounding environment. After confirming the destination, there is no need to hesitate about the correctness of the route. Chain determination also saves me from worrying about most weird ambushes. The gray fog scattered around, and the posture of the weirs when they died. Coupled with the reaction of the magic pattern, I can borrow the experience of dealing with the "devil" in the past. All this is familiar. Old Hawk was not right. Even in this nightmare, I am not a real "novice", but a skilled "old hunter". Even if there are other mysterious experts here, I can say without hesitation that I am the more experienced one.
I am running on a mountain road, my speed-sweeping ability is curbed, but it is also faster and more agile than normal running, probably how fast? I have never calculated seriously. In the ideological world, in such a mystified world, it is not useless to go to more concrete values, but it is not as important and absolute as the meaning of the data itself seems. In the past, I have not rarely seen a situation where a mysterious expert who is too entangled in data and self-proclaimed rational suffers from sudden changes.
Both ideology and "mystery" are active beyond cognition, and their changes are too rich. In such an environment, most of the more reliable is their own intuition.
Use intuition to feel the enemy, feel yourself, feel the complex changes in combat and non-combat environments, combined with every detail, and get a vague outline and a general result from it. Even if this outline and result are not completely correct or an absolute standard, it also has a better error tolerance rate, which is enough to make people make mistakes without even having the opportunity to revise and re-start.
I backhanded, turned around, coiled around in the forest, and avoided the strange sneak attacks. I didn't see them when I was climbing, but at this time I scrambled to sniper me. All these changes, I guess, may have been caused by me entering the altar. But, on the other hand, I am not sure that if I did not enter the altar, they would not appear.
Without these weirdness, Old Hawk would have no reason and opponent to fight. And this area is nothing more than a mysterious and charming mountainous area.
The gloomy sky, the cumulus clouds flow violently in the gusty wind that blows from time to time, the rain has become bigger, falling in the leaves and rustling, this is the main theme, and I kill the weird people's cutting sound The sound of collision, and the roaring one after another, are like the accompaniment of the same evil song. I stepped back, with the help of the branches of the tree, to block a strange vomit that did not know its name. It seemed to keep nauseating and vomiting constantly. Even if the vomit did not come out, it would flow on its body and the ground from time to time. . Its appearance and movements make it uncomfortable when you see it, and there is a kind of sympathetic pain.
Even ordinary people will subconsciously produce nausea when they see violent nausea. However, in such a weird body, this sympathy is more intense and crazy. Ordinary people will have a blank brain and body in an instant. Come out, let alone fight. This is a situation that will be negatively affected by visual observation, and in all nightmares formed by "mystery", it is actually not uncommon.
I think that conscious walkers are the easiest to experience this kind of thing. They can walk freely in the consciousness of others, and naturally it is inevitable. Be invaded by the malicious consciousness of others.
However, this level of erosion can almost be ignored for me.
I didn't hesitate to use the hook rope as a whip. Roll it up and smash it at another weird who is coming here. The two collided without accident and rolled to the ground, which was solved by me with a crossbow. The corpses continued to disintegrate into ashes, and the magic lines were too late to absorb, and most of them dissipated in the air. It has become a gray mist, and these gray mists will give birth to these weirdness again after a period of time.
I also thought about using magic lines to absorb the gray mist directly. However, it is obvious that these fogs cannot be so absorbed cleanly. As in the past, it does not actually have a specific source. By absorbing these things, the power transformed by the magic line constantly replenishes my physical strength, heals my injuries, and strengthens my physique and fighting ability. As in the past, it is like a panacea maker. As long as there is a specific material "gray fog", or something similar. So that my fighting resources will not be scarce.
This is dangerous, but it is also a very suitable battlefield for the Mageweave Messenger.
The only thing that makes people annoying is meaningless fighting. I've been running, although I didn't deliberately avoid it, but I don't deliberately need to find the weird to kill, only when they try to get in the way. Will become the target of beheading, and I will be there soon. Get rid of such a battlefield. When I set foot on the fork in the road where the cemetery is located, the approach is weird. It has been cleaned up by me. They bred again, and it would take a lot of time to travel from this road to the residential area.
I wiped the rain off my face and threw it on the stone aside. At this time, the waterline falling from the sky can no longer be called rain silk. The stagnant water in the low-lying areas is constantly rippling, but the vegetation has not become more vigorous because of the rain. Everything is still lifeless, gloomy and full of malice.
On one side of the sky, I don't know if it is the moon or the sun. A pale star is slowly falling towards the horizon. At this point in time, it seems to be preparing to enter the evening, and I also feel that it is unlikely to see beautiful scenery such as "burning clouds".
The deep night that I have learned does not mean tonight, but a certain change that continues from the "past" of this nightmare. Judging from this "history", it is very long. However, from my perspective, it is possible that I will reach an end on the first night I have experienced.
In a nightmare, the so-called history, past, and future do not actually have too real meaning, but rather a concept and meaning. When you approach it and understand it, you are actually "falling into a nightmare."
I returned to the residential area. The buildings were separated by cross-shaped roads, but the area was not large. There were only about 20 buildings. Most of them were lit, and a few of them seemed to be completely decayed and gloomy. Inside, there seems to be some malicious and unknown hidden. At the center of the intersection is a small square with a man-made fountain. The color of the floor tiles is mottled and dim, but the pattern formed also has a ritual taste. There was a street lamp that jumped out of a blue arc in the rain and made a sizzling noise. It seemed to burn at any time, but it happened to be on all the time. I think it has a symbolic meaning, so it will only go out under special circumstances.
I walked all the way, unlike when I left. This time, I carefully observed the exterior and interior of each building and listened to the sounds floating in the air. The whispering words were like prayers chanting, crazy laughter and hoarse singing, everything seemed so crazy and depressing. People have to think that the people who make these sounds are mentally problematic-of course, the assumption of the Peninsula Mental Hospital is before me, and I am not surprised by this.
For me, here is familiarity with strangeness, calmness with madness. In reality in the hospital, I have long been accustomed to such an atmosphere. Although, in reality in the hospital, patients living in this open environment are not as manic as the ones here, and they are often patients with inactive patients. However, I have not seen patients who are more crazier than the conditions expressed by these calls. Just in the reality of the hospital, those patients with worsening doomsday syndrome are definitely not more weird, crazy and make people feel that they are shown here. Danger.
My only doubt is, where is this relative to the Peninsula Mental Hospital? Obviously, it is definitely not a wooden house area. The geographical environment of this area does not have much familiarity when viewed from the altar.
In such an environment, even me, I subconsciously step down, keep silent, and try not to make too much noise even when I speak-it is not dangerous and weird that prompted me to do this, but a kind of In an atmosphere, subconsciously guard against psychology. I know very well that if I make too much movement, it is possible to cause some abnormal changes. After all, this is a nightmare of ideology, and the residents here are a group of mentally unstable patients. Any extra Action, it is possible to stimulate them.
I raised my head and chose a figure that didn't make a lot of noise, but the light and the shaking of the windows all hinted that someone was inside.
I knocked on the door of the room, and there was silence inside, as if the people inside were holding their breath for an instant.
I knocked again, and according to psychology, I used a relatively soothing rhythm that is enough to express kindness and reason. I have always believed that the rhythm of sound allows people to subconsciously understand its meaning.
"Who?" After knocking on the door three times, someone inside finally asked.
"I am the hunter who succeeds Old Hawk." This is my thoughtful line.
The humanoid "line" and the performance of Old Hawke both make me think that Old Hawke has a different meaning to these patients. Whether it is hating him, afraid of him, or grateful for him, it means that he is A person with a fixed position and a clear stand in a closed environment. I hinted that these people, I inherited these, so that I, the "outsider", can more easily integrate into the environment here, and get more information or help from these people.
I don't think that what Old Hawke did will make him completely invisible here. Perhaps, he may have hurt some people, but it will definitely not be all of them. After all, it is quite rare to do things from a good starting point, but to be hated by everyone in the end. This situation is actually quite rare.
"Old Hawke? Ah, that man." The voice inside was like a gentle young woman. She didn't seem to know or care about Old Hawke, but she still asked him about his situation. , There is a feeling that she only spoke out of politeness and boredom: "I know him, I am very interested in those things he does, I think he will become an interesting person, tell me something interesting Story, but he hasn’t been here lately. Did something happen?"
"He is dead." I said briefly and bluntly.
The woman inside did not hesitate, hesitate, distrust, etc., and naturally followed my words: "That's really a pity. However, he seems to have a heir to his heart...Young man, you will be interesting People, tell me those interesting stories? I am very interested in what you are doing."
"No, I'm just here to inform." I replied.
The woman inside still doesn’t have any emotional ups and downs~IndoMTL.com~ There is no disappointment and no hope in her tone. She replied so plainly and politely: "May God bless you."
I really don’t know what kind of woman lives in it. Her voice and answers make me feel no sense of reason or sensibility. Compared with the humanoid "ties" in the chapel, I feel that the people in the room A woman is more like a doll.
I didn't push the door recklessly, and I was not in a hurry to confirm what was inside. Instead, it was in the dark room next door. The light suddenly turned on. A man lowered his voice, but asked clearly enough: "Hey, you... the heir of old Hawke." I turned my head, and he seemed to be able to Seeing me inside, he continued: "Is it true? Is Old Hawk really dead?"
"Yes." I answered calmly.
"Oh, my goodness, it's so unfortunate." The man sighed in a flamboyant voice, and then quickly said to me: "Tell me, how did he die?"
"He dug a grave for himself, then jumped in." I replied. (To be continued)
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