The grey parrot seemed to have sensed something, and it faltered for a while, and very proactively requested 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!" Bagelmore was rubbing his claws on the nearest branch, "It's like an instinct... Cough, forget about the two of you, I really don't know about Della. How did Lenien overcome it, that guy is so bold."
But since that superior demon had calmly entered, the two of Tumbleweed had no reason to retreat.
Considering the cleanliness of the abandoned wooden house, even after mastering the cleaning spell, Nemo habitually tidied up his robe and tightened it a little. The light pole staff finally succeeded in taking on its role, and the black bone ball began to emit a hazy light under the influence of the abyss magic.
The first floor of the wooden house was messier than they thought.
The wooden floor has long since decayed, and a large hole has collapsed, revealing part of the dark cellar. Dark green moss and mushrooms make the ground slippery. No insect pests, indoor plants grow even better than outside. The wooden cabinet door is crooked, and there is not much left, and the contents inside are so rotten that the original appearance cannot be seen.
However, he did not feel any abnormal aura 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.
Raising the staff with one hand, Nemo clasped 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 floor is nothing special either. The first floor has only the ordinary living room and kitchen, and the bedroom and study are on the second floor. Compared to the first floor, which suffered badly, the second floor was in much better condition except for the vines and various types of furniture.
Green vines crawled on the bed, where the bedding was almost rotten, and dusty books were scattered on the shelves. The dust was as thick as the light snow that fell in the morning. The ink bottle and pen holder are dusty, and they are arranged neatly for the time being.
A desolate and lonely scene.
However, Della Laineen, 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 the 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 balls emerged from the bone balls at the top of the staff and stuck to the walls on the four sides of the attic. Under the bright light, the room immediately felt like daylight.
Then they saw the corpse in the center of the attic at first sight.
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 human corpse was sitting upright in the back chair, with its back to the window, 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.
That's all they could tell—not because the corpse's skin was dark and wrinkled from the loss of moisture, but because it was almost beyond recognition, and they could only barely recognize the deceased human by the shape of the bones.
The exposed wrinkled skin was covered with eyes and shrunken into a ball, regardless of the face and torso. 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 the abyss from the corpse. It seems that the former owners of those eyes were not limited to surface creatures.
"This is the butcher shop introducer you're looking for. I have an impression of his smell. The name is... Forget it, it doesn't matter, it's just a mediocre person." Della Laineen patted the back of the chair with interest. He drew his face close and looked at those rotten eyeballs.
Nemo 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 churning feeling in his throat reappeared.
The floor was littered with animal carcasses, rotten to the point of bone and fur. At first glance it looks like an odd thick rug.
"Your definition of 'average' is really broad," Nemo murmured to Della Lainene. "How... how did he die?"
"Is it still possible to find records here?" Oliver added another question.
No longer staring at the piles of corpses on the floor, Oliver carefully stepped over them and came to the shelf beside the wall—the record spar was neatly placed on the dusty shelf, and the lower layer was neatly organized. box. Stacks of embalmed parchment were piled in the corners, well preserved.
Dellalainen didn't say a word. He took out a watchmaker's glasses from his pocket and focused on the corpse's skin. He was humming a little tune that sounded very pleasant.
Seeing that the sage of the abyss was completely immersed in his world, Nemo shook his head, crossed the corpse pile, and approached Oliver.
"Some cheap recording crystals." Oliver was rubbing the hem of his clothes on a dirty crystal that couldn't 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, pulled out the dusty data box, and coughed a few times due to the raised dust. 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 one is older. This document is from more than 40 years ago. There is no signature. It seems that our introducer doesn't like to leave names everywhere."
"Written what?" Oliver stuck his head out.
"It's all research materials about the abyss." Nemo frowned.
The information in his hand is a comprehensive analysis of the various abilities of a certain superior demon, as well as 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 it is 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 figure out 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 their heads 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 took his eyes back.
With a complicated mind, Mr. Demon King took out several more information boxes, trying to find the right information 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.
Compared to the slow Oliver, Nemo is much faster. 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 spar. "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... ego. I just confirmed the date, it's faster."
Moreover, 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 small piles, and the handwriting on it became more and more scribbled.
Nemo raised his eyebrows and picked up a few.
Compared with the boring formulas and annotations of the previous years, this year's formulas are much less, but there are a lot of 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 text that follows is 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's gaze - Oliver grabbed Nemo's robe, shook the parchment in his hand, and motioned for his lover to come closer.
[As the 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 the evidence. 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 say?"
"I don't know. But looking at these notes... Well, our butcher's introducer, Mr. Mister, isn't in a good mood," Oliver replied in a low voice.
Then they all held their breaths for the next record on paper.
[Mr. Lopez is also well aware of this, and I don't think I need to specifically destroy his memory. Regarding the transaction with Mr. Lopez, I erased part of the record, if anyone reads this material in the future...please don't bother restoring it, it's lost forever.]
Nemo swallowed hard. He hated the feeling—he had closed his eyes, waiting for the truth to strike him, but the truth disappeared into the darkness.
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 will never go beyond my discoveries, and I will carry mine to the grave. As one of the gatekeepers, it is my duty 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 phonograph 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 indeed 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.
Nemo felt 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.]
Repeated words filled the parchment, the dates were changing, one after another. Bloodstains and oddly colored wet marks began to appear on the parchment.
It shouldn't be like this.
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, but it made Nemo feel even worse.
The last record left by the old man was only two sentences, no longer the curse-like 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 saw it.]
[To be born in this world is a great honor.]
Nemo just felt like a block of ice had slipped 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.
Those were the last words of Hagen Ingram, Bishop of the Abyss.