Restricted Doomsday Syndrome Chapter 874: Deep erosion

I lay in a pool of blood and stared at the wheelchair person. From his eyes, I saw many negative emotions. I have seen too many people with such eyes, and even myself, I have met him The same, full of fear, surprise and doubt, but I finally survived, and he seemed to be falling into this cruel abyss. I don’t know what he saw or what he knew. He was able to stand in this night of Valpus, watching this **** color, and have the same fear. Then his experience will inevitably be the same as the night of Valpus. "Jiang" got involved.

I think he is a cyberball player and a conscious walker who used the magic eye to monitor the world before. I can even guess that with the power of the night of Valpus, he dived too deep in the sea of ​​consciousness. At the bottom of the human collective subconscious, he saw the vague shadow of "Jiang". Perhaps, the other person I felt in my dream was that he was standing in that place.

People who see "Jiang", if it is only Zhenjiang, the shock to their consciousness and soul cannot be so severe, but if they really observe the "Jiang" hidden deep in my body, no, just After seeing that outline, this kind of impact will be magnified thousands of times. "Jiang" is like the evil **** of Cthulhu, the human will in mysticism, unable to resist the most primitive and essential negativity that was born from the essence, extremely large, indescribable, and indescribable.

This kind of negativity is entirely caused by Jiang's characteristic of being a "virus". "Viruses" erode the human body, erode people's consciousness, make people go crazy, and destroy the inherent structure of human existence from the physiology. All patients with doomsday syndrome are in the late stage of critical illness. Strictly speaking, they can't be regarded as "human." The basis of science. It is a strict definition, and "human being" is also a strict definition in science-defining what kind of genetic structure, what appearance, what kind of social relations, what kind of individual growth, what kind of thinking basis, etc. . The pathology of patients with doomsday syndrome ranges from physiology to consciousness. Will completely transform into an anomaly outside the definition of "human".

When a person's body and mind no longer belong to this definition, in theory, the person is no longer a human being. And "Jiang" possesses such power, and moreover. This distorted power is entirely its instinct, something that exists based on its existence. Just as humans have their own taste.

The wheelchair man standing in front of me is, in essence, just a certain personality of a certain doomsday syndrome patient. When he confronts something that has distorted himself, when he looks at that, he has no immunity at all physically and consciously, distorting his existence. If you can observe all of this completely calmly, accept all of this. It is the most ridiculous joke.

I understand the madness of wheelchair people. Really, I can understand it completely, because we are all patients with doomsday syndrome. I have personally experienced everything he has experienced. There is no more difference between us, except that "Gao Chuan" still maintains a human form, and he has deteriorated into a puddle of yellow liquid.

His face is pale, his pupils are dizzy, and he looks a little lost. After a long while, he asked: "What did you do?"

Then asked the second sentence: "What are you?"

I know, that's not asking me. But I still answered his question based on my identity.

"I'm observing."

"I am Gaochuan."

The wheelchair man didn't seem to hear my answer. He pushed the wheelchair up, reaching out his hand as if to grab my collar. However, before his hand was about to touch me, thick blood entangled his body like a python.

"You...this...monster..." The wheelchair man's gaze dropped, passing over my open chest, and falling on the blood that seemed to have his own life. He seemed to understand something, but because of this understanding, the fear in his eyes became more intense. His body is bound by blood, unable to move, and this blood is still spreading along his body, eroding every inch of his skin. I know that his image in this night of Valpus is just a conscious image, and his real body is not in the night of Valpus. But--

He is dead.

The power of "Jiang" has never been limited to consciousness and matter. This is true even from the "reality" level.

As the blood gradually covered the whole body of the wheelchair person, his eyes became more and more dazed, and his dilated vision seemed to have penetrated this night of Valpus and plunged into a place I didn't know. His lower body has completely lost its solid human form, and it seems to have been assimilated into that thick blood. His upper body was also melting at a speed visible to the naked eye. At the last moment, he finally cheered up.

I saw the decisiveness in his eyes, shining like a supernova, as if this light condensed everything in his life. I know that he intends to do something, I don't need to know what he wants to do, but I probably know what he wants to do.

"Must...must...tell..." When he said silently, I rushed forward.

Zhenjiangdong pierced my chest, my blood was flowing, "Jiang" was waking up, all of this, although it won't make me die here, but if it doesn't affect me at all, it must be a lie . When I saw the person in the wheelchair, I couldn't stand up anymore. Even if I opened the mouth to answer his questions, I had exhausted all my energy. Indeed, because "Jiang" is active again, a power is rising from the depths of me, but that is not my power. The real me, weak, painful, and fearful, all these are brought to me by "Jiang". I am closer to "Jiang" than a wheelchair person. I always feel that everything he feels has been magnified on me, I don't know how many times.

However, when I rushed forward, I realized that I could still squeeze out so much energy. I want to stop people in wheelchairs. No matter what he intends to do, in theory, it will have some influence on Jiang's plan. Maybe, Jiang doesn't care about this influence, but. I think this is something I must do. Maybe say so. It seems that I have been poisoned by "Jiang" too deeply, but this is also my consciousness. When I decided to tie my plan firmly to "Jiang", there was no way to retreat. .

Never thought about what happened again.

All questions should be. Long before doing this, I have already thought about the problem. I thought about it and understood the most terrible consequences. I calmly made my own judgment and executed it calmly. Therefore, what will happen now. It is no longer a problem.

"Mayne!" The wheelchair man stared at me, full of fear, and full of hope and consciousness. I think he is the same. Before he did this, he knew his end. Fear didn't catch him completely. He thought about everything calmly, made a judgment calmly, and executed it calmly. From his gaze, I seemed to see his soul at this moment.

So. Since everything is what I have to do, it is what I want to do. Then fight for it.

Just like rolling in the mud, you have to kill the opponent's beast.

I strangled his throat, his weak body, not even an old man. That endless stream of power will not make my fists strong and let me grow fangs and minions, but my will can. I'm going to kill him and stop him. I don't know what "Jiang" plans to do, but I will never let the wheelchair man in front of me become a stone in the way.

The only movable head of the wheelchair man hung down and bit my arm. I ignored it and punched his temple directly, making his head crooked. He wanted to yell again, as if he was going to pass the message to someone who was not here. Feeling the hand that was holding his throat, I couldn't use it at all and couldn't stop him, so I inserted the palm of the other hand into his mouth, imagining that this was a knife that pierced his throat directly.

Then, a blood-stained knife spread directly from the palm of his hand and slammed it through his throat.

I didn't think about anything, the arm was cut off, and the wheelchair man was right in front of my eyes, cut in half by the **** sharp blade. As soon as the body was separated, it immediately melted into thick blood, slammed to the ground, and became part of a pool of blood. I panted, only then came back to my senses, and cast my eyes on the changed sharp blade of blood covering my right hand.

The sharp blade was originally liquid, but it seemed that some kind of skeleton had been condensed in it, and the liquid wrapped around it slumped down softly and viscously, revealing a metallic short knife. I suddenly saw my image in the reflection of the blood under my feet-I don't know when, my combat attire has completely disappeared, and the clown mask is no longer on my face, just wearing a high school uniform.

I seem to have returned to the year when I just became a high school student.

This Valpus night is a world of consciousness. All images and phenomena have a most essential root. Then, what does it mean for me to change back to this image? I was thinking, observing the scarlet blood, continuously spreading to the distance. When I stepped again, my body seemed to be no longer so weak, and it felt, but it was not the change brought about by the surging power in the body, it was more like--

The life of a wheelchair person supplements my life?

I raised my head and climbed up the ruins step by step. I don't know how long this change will last or when it will be noticed by the cyberball. However, all I have to do is wait.

When I climbed to the highest point of this ruin, the blood color had spread to kilometers away. The black giants in this area had been forced to compete with the blood color. There is no doubt about their fate, because , Half of their bodies have been assimilated.

I stood at the top of the ruins, overlooking all of this. Suddenly, part of the blood flowing along my body flew around my shoulder. Yes, it is not splashing, but flying. When the blood disperses, it is like a piece of cloth spreading in the wind. It looks dilapidated, but it is full of crimson thick and hideous.

The huge scarlet cloak, behind my shoulders, is flying like my own will.

I smelled the smell of fighting.

The next moment, in front of an open ruin, I vaguely saw the phantom of a female silhouette. Her figure seemed to be hidden in another dimension, and her eyes seemed to be looking at me across a world. .

Marceau! ?

I think I seem to understand something.

This time, like last time, did you volunteer to become a pillar of "Holy Land"?

It doesn't matter, this funny fate. It will end soon. I have a foreboding, the end is coming.

#

Prophet Mayne got into the car. The driver started the engine and planned to leave the mansion along the secret passage. She did not plan to meet the allies stationed in the mansion. It is not the time yet, and the fire escape will handle these matters. She thought about the information revealed when she met the wheelchair person this time, and faintly worried about the state of the old friend. When the car was about to drive out of the side door of the mansion, she suddenly heard something--

"Mayne!"

The Prophet Mayne turned his head bluntly. Staring in the direction of the mansion. She was not sure that she heard it. The sound was like auditory hallucinations, or thoughts that came out of her mind, but long-term exposure to mysterious experiences and intuitions gave her a bad premonition. She hopes to hear this voice again. However, until the car slowly drove into the street, there was no second sound. At this time, her mind was blank. When she recovered a little desperately, she realized that the corners of her eyes were moist. The next moment, tears slid down her cheeks.

People in wheelchairs. died.

She didn't see it with her own eyes, but her inner voice told her so surely about this incredible situation.

At this moment. Prophet Mayne's hands trembled slightly, too many memories. In her mind, it was replayed like an explosion. In just one minute, she seemed to have gone back to the past, accompanied by herself at that time, and once again walked through the life journey so far. In the pictures of these memories, there are all kinds of wheelchair people, young him, middle-aged him, old him, high-spirited him, depressed him, painful, happy him, accompanied by her and him. Next to me, there are more people, more expressions, more lives and experiences. She felt that she was trapped in this illusion-like scene. She did not resist, and even wanted to stay for a while, but the elapsed time still washed her back to the shore.

The only thing she left, there was only one voice:

——The wheelchair man, dead.

Prophet Mayne didn't make a sound, she couldn't make any sound, her vocal cords seemed to have melted, and her trachea seemed to be blocked, making her unable to choke. Sitting in the back seat of the car, she shed tears for about a minute in silence, then stretched out her trembling hand and knocked on the glass of the driver's seat.

The driver turned his head and saw the look of Prophet Mayne, and the suspicion on his face couldn't be suppressed anyway.

"Go back to the mansion." Prophet Mayne's voice trembled, and the driver could hear the suppressed grief. Without saying anything, he immediately turned around. Even if he violated the traffic rules, he couldn't take care of it. He knew that something serious must have happened. He had never seen such a performance by Prophet Mayne.

The car quickly turned around the direction of the mansion. The driver observed the Prophet Mayne from the rearview mirror. He was a little worried, but he didn't know what happened. He wanted to inquire, but knew that the Prophet Mayne Before speaking, you shouldn't ask questions. In his heart, there is also a wave of doubts and anxieties lurking.

Then he heard the rejuvenated Prophet Mayne say: "The wheelchair man is dead."

A shudder and numbness, like a poisonous snake, climbed up his spine and onto the scalp, making him almost step on the brakes.

The wheelchair person is dead—the driver's heart keeps repeating this sentence. He knew who the wheelchair person was, so he never thought that there would be such a day when he suddenly heard the news of the other party's death. He felt that even if he were to die, that man would definitely die vigorously, as everyone knows, death is like the blooming of a supernova, which can be observed even after hundreds of billions of light years.

But now--

Too sudden! It's so quiet!

The wheelchair man died? How can it be! It shouldn't be like this! At least, he was alive and well ten minutes ago. Who can kill him? What can kill him in this mansion?

In the driver's mind, the news of the death of the wheelchair person swelled, making him almost unable to think about other things.

#

"So, are you the collaborators who plan to restart this time?" The research director Omi, who was patrolling the Whispers and Torchlight, asked like a confirmation again, but her tone was so plain~IndoMTL.com~ As if not expecting the answer from the other party at all. In other words, she didn't care about the other party's answer at all. She cared more than the answer, but it was a little bit beyond her expectation. It was a young man standing in the crowd. Compared with other people, this young man had nothing special, his appearance was not the best, and his physique was not the best. The most burly, there is nothing unique about the dress, but, although dressed as a warrior with a long history, the windbreaker and the faintly visible weapons on his body are full of the taste of killing, but there is also a gentle temperament. It emanated from his eyebrows--this is a person who always thinks, a person whose personality is silent because of thinking, and she has such an impression the first time.

"Yes, we are." Jacques of Torchlight did not have emotions because of the cold tone of women. He still had a peaceful smile. He said: "We just heard the words from the fire, Ms. Omi is The best researcher in the cybersphere. We are very happy to join your research team, and hope we can help you where you need it."

"Help? Well, maybe, who knows?" Omi said in an ambiguous tone, and no one could hear the perfunctory. She was not interested in greetings. She glanced at the huge container and the petite female body in the container. No one could see too much in her eyes. However, one thing was certain. She was actually not interested in this plan. Not very interested.

The atmosphere is a bit cold. (To be continued...)