Morris's wife Mary stared at the cover of the letter for a long time before she took a letter opener from the side and carefully opened it.
A thin folded paper fell out of the envelope. Before opening the paper, the first thing Mrs. Mary noticed was the uneven marks on the back of the paper.
That was handwriting - it was written with so much force that the traces of the strokes were clearly visible on the back of the paper.
The person who wrote this letter must have been extremely emotional at the time.
The old woman sitting in front of the fireplace adjusted her sitting posture slightly, placed the letter she had read on the small round table next to her, and glanced at the date stamp on the cover of the letter from Frost in her hand.
The letter was dated December 5th.
The second letter was written by the late "Brown Scott" only three days after the first one was sent.
Mrs. Mary opened the folded letter, and a few lines of scribbled words came into her eyes. They were not at all like the elegant and neat handwriting of the first letter sent by the folklorist a few days ago. In just a few lines of words, the writer was filled with great anxiety and panic: "My friend, the situation... No, I don't know how to explain it to you. I am very confused now, even difficult to think. My mind is disturbed by something, and my memory... Don't come to Frost! In short, don't come to Frost! Even if you see other things I write to you in the future, or see other forms of invitations, don't write to me!
“There is a huge conspiracy here.
To be honest, the old guard just kept silent - he maintained a state of almost closed mind, not moving, not speaking, and not responding to any external stimuli. From the time the church guards received the report and came here to end, he had been sitting quietly in this chair, like a breathing flesh and blood sculpture.
The white-robed guard expressed his doubts, but Frost Sha just shook her head: "No, it should be something even weirder."
All that came to his mind was a chaotic mess of light and shadows, and overwhelming noise.
The old man's voice suddenly rang out in the hut, interrupting the communication between the white-robed guard and the gatekeeper. Han Shuangsha immediately looked in the direction of the voice, and a faint smile finally appeared on her expressionless face: "You have recovered, very good."
It was an uneasy night, and the whole thing was permeated with an atmosphere of fear from beginning to end, which, in this case, was enough to make the parties run to the church for shelter.
The old woman silently threw the letter from Duan Liang into the fireplace next to her and watched it burn quickly in the dim flames and turn into ashes.
The old guard tried hard to recall.
"They also went..."
A guard in white pushed open the wooden door of the guardhouse, came to Duan Liangsha, bent down and whispered something, and the latter nodded slightly: "I understand, send the sample to the cathedral first, and keep the scene as it is. Tonight may be critical, and we need to keep someone to guard it."
"I understand. I've recorded it." Frostsha nodded again. "And then? What else?"
"It's a protective mental closure. He's using this method to fight and cleanse the pollution he's suffered. He might also be protecting us at the same time," Frostsha whispered. "The gravekeeper must have come into contact with something far beyond imagination last night. He seems to have struggled back from the brink of madness... But don't worry, he's an experienced warrior and has managed to stabilize himself. He'll be fine."
"That's enough," Frostsha nodded, "What happened yesterday?"
Church workers in white coats walked around the cemetery, checking all remaining traces—every path, every coffin, every street lamp was marked and sampled in the hope of reconstructing what happened here last night.
"Why do you think so?" the guard in white asked subconsciously.
They can't be the reason why the old guard's mind is closed. Even if the demons behind us are out of control, they are not at that level.
The guard in white thought for a moment, then looked out the window. Through the slightly dirty glass window, he could see the busy people on the path outside.
Busy church staff.
Mrs. Mary's eyes swept across the small round table beside her, and across the letter from the Lost Homeland -
"An unspeakable visitor?" Frostsha couldn't help but frowned, "Can you be more specific?"
He muttered softly, then stood up, took the ink, pen and stationery from the shelf next to him, and began to write - this paragraph will be sent to the antique shop in the upper town.
"I dare not say that I have fully recovered," the old guard said slowly, stabilizing the various perceptions that were slightly offset after regaining my mind. He looked into Han Shuangsha's eyes and consciously blocked out the jumping shadows behind her. "But at least I can tell which part is reality and which part is madness."
He withdrew his gaze and looked at the two bodies in the hut - two intruders, and one was confirmed to be a cultist of Annihilation, who had obviously died at the hands of the old guard. Because the situation was still the same, the two bodies were left where they were for the sake of protecting the scene.
"..Deep-sea offspring do have a unique taste, more delicious than normal fish. The captain has mastered ordinary cooking techniques, and normal 099, that is, Miss Alice, has learned the essence of it. Maybe you should try it too..."
After an unknown amount of time, the young man, whose body was mostly wrapped in bandages, raised his head and glanced at the sky outside the window. He saw the sun gradually setting, and a layer of slightly reddish glow floated over the sky above the entire city.
"He lured two people here and killed them, the two on the floor, and was about to go to the cemetery to kill the other two when the accident happened."
"Okay, that's the whole answer," Frostsha nodded. "An unknown visitor visited the cemetery in the final stage, but did not actively cause any damage... Are you sure you want to use the word 'visit' in the report? That word is neutral, even friendly."
I vaguely saw some of his remains... on the path at the door," the old guard said as he recalled, "but I couldn't see clearly. At that time, his vision was still slightly damaged, and his cognition was also very problematic. I'm not sure..."
"I'm sure he's talking about a pile of debris that was burned by the backlash of the Deep Demon. We found it," Frostsha interrupted the old guard fiercely, "If I'm sure it's not the visitor's... carrier."
"Because there are really only a few traces left by heretics at the scene, and a pile of corpses of suspected "restless people" without any extraordinary reactions," Duan Liangsha said lightly, "there are no observable traces left, which means..."
The guard in white nodded in response, but before leaving, she couldn't help but glance at the old man sitting motionless on the chair. When she saw the old man's cloudy eyes that seemed to be frozen, the young guard's face was obviously a little uneasy: "How long will he... stay in that state? Is he really okay?"
"Yes," the old guard replied calmly, "She and I spoke, though we barely managed to communicate anything - the visitor had attempted to communicate, which was a neutral to friendly sign."
"No, I only remember chaotic light and noise," the old guard shook his head, "and even if I could describe what I saw, it would be meaningless to me - what I saw is not necessarily real, and even if it is real, it is not necessarily real in the eyes of others. As human beings, our senses are not always real.
The way we know is too limited.
The hasty closure of the mind eliminated the temporary contamination it had suffered, but it also erased some useful memories.
"An indescribable... visitor came to visit. He and I stared at each other for a while, or maybe only a few seconds. My timing was wrong and I couldn't judge it accurately."
Mrs. Mary looked at the few scribbled words, as if she could imagine a folklorist with mental problems due to a huge cognitive tear, using up his last bit of sanity to write these words, then struggling into the cold wind and delivering them to the post office with difficulty.
There was not even a signature at the end of the letter, and even the stamp on the envelope was pasted crookedly.
The gatekeeper, Han Shuangsha, stayed in the guard's hut. Opposite him sat a man with a bright temperament and a long back.
A hunchbacked old guard.
He slowly refolded the paper and stuffed it back into the envelope.
At this point, Frostsha paused and added, "As for how long that state will last... it's hard to say. It may recover in the next second, or it may have to wait until this time tomorrow. It depends on how long he has been in contact with this terrible pollution."
As evening approached, the guards he brought with him worked in the cemetery for several hours, and the old guard in front of him was silent for several hours.
"Then give me a letter!"
The old guard raised his head and looked towards the door.
What could this be? A weaker version of the Deep Demon? A high priest of the Cult of Annihilation? Or something else
"It means that the visitor last night did nothing. Just being in this cemetery for a moment was enough to make this old man's mind critical."
"The corpse you sent suddenly became agitated and spoke a lot, as smart as a living person. Then four Annihilation Cultists entered the cemetery and wanted to take this agitated person away. They used the power of the Deep Demon to disguise themselves. They are skilled summoners and have deceived my eyes, but not my intuition.