Krafft's Anomaly Notes

Chapter 326 Impact Point

In the early years, when Old Wood was not yet tired of reminiscing about his youth, he often mentioned the experience of falling asleep with a dead person next to him as a pillow during the fierce battle, and waking up the next morning to see a pale and stiff face.

Eyewitnesses described the scene in vivid detail and in eerie tones, and when excited they would even mention their valuable experience about which part of the body to lean on to avoid getting a stiff neck, completely unaware of whether such content is appropriate as a children's enlightenment story.

The collection of their grandfather's stories once became a childhood shadow for Kraft and his cousin Ryan, so much so that they had to throw their pillows out of the bed after turning off the lights every day before they could fall asleep.

But in the long run, this desensitization therapy is still very beneficial, at least it reduces the burden on Kraft's heart when he wakes up and sees several distorted, pupil-less faces.

"Father, why don't you move this thing away?"

"In fact, we were going to burn it." Green sat against the stone wall. A small open fire in a dry place illuminated their previous achievements and the monks who were huddled around to keep warm. "Considering the remaining fuel, I think it's better to save it for more important places."

"There are many?"

"Wadin kept four cans, and I threw away all my sundries." Father Green glanced at the other two monks, who were still in shock and lowered their heads in shame. "They still took some, but not much."

Objectively speaking, Kraft felt that they had no need to be ashamed of this. The fact that they were able to maintain the sanity to preserve some supplies under such circumstances had already demonstrated commendable courage and quality.

He envied Green. A group of talents who meet the physical fitness standards, are relatively stable mentally, are willing to obey orders, and have an educated background are the foundation that almost any organization dreams of.

"What about the rest?"

"They got separated. I wasn't far away. I came here after hearing the noise." Brother Wadin added half a broken tinder handle to the fire. "To be honest, I've already thought about who would be at my funeral. I didn't expect you to solve it so quickly?"

It was obvious that this had happened quickly, and he glanced at the horrifyingly perfect creature, looking for the smooth cross-sectional cuts that would be characteristic of a "spell", but saw only a few deep puncture wounds.

It didn't seem to be killed by the method he had seen before, but Wadin couldn't figure out how to kill it at close range.

Even if it was willing to come down and fight its prey in close combat, a creature of its size could not be easily defeated with a sword.

How did you do it? The priest's assistant was quite curious, but his understanding of Green allowed him to see some information from his old partner's silence, so he wisely chose not to continue asking.

"So what is this, a giant spider from Dunling's sewers?" He improvised using his remaining talent for dry jokes.

The effect was obviously not very good, and no one was amused. They glimpsed the unpleasant answer among the faces nested and fused on the monster's chest and abdomen.

Even Kraft, who had just woken up, stared at this alternative mosaic of different facial features and saw something from it.

Wadin was puzzled as to why the professor also knew an old acquaintance of the Inquisition, but then he realized the reason, "You think he looks familiar too? That's right, you must have seen his portrait."

“You mean Morrison?” Kraft did recognize some elements from it, not only from the latest portrait in the gallery of Dunling Medical College, but also from the memories of the remote medical school in Ice Harbor in the north of the kingdom, although it was no longer easy to recognize.

He confirmed his guess about the identity of this thing: "Yes, I think this is him, but it's not just him."

"I hope he will repent for what he did in the flames of hell, but I doubt if there are any devils out there who would accept this kind of thing." Wadin looked away in disgust. Staring at this thing for a long time always gave him a sickening attraction, like looking at a whirlpool, being pulled into it and becoming part of the distortion. The priest's eyes kept lingering on Kraft, as if he wanted to see the young professor's attitude towards this, and as if he was confirming whether the person who woke up was still the person he knew.

"Poor guy," he commented, without gnashing his teeth or even much emotion, as if those things were exhausted in the long and terrifying darkness. "It would be ten thousand times better to die in that fire."

"A pathetic fellow indeed," Kraft agreed, surprisingly. "He could have done more meaningful things and saved a lot of people."

"He betrayed his mission, his oath and principles, and the pursuits of his first half of life. He was hollowed out by the blind pursuit that overrode moral ethics."

Deep whispers penetrated from the void of the soul, killing a professor who had devoted his life to medical research from the inside out, shaping something else out of paranoia and desire, just like the monster that Yue Hai had created out of a human body.

It is sad that Professor Morrison is indeed dead, a complete death.

"But there is only one thing I envy him for."

"What?" Across the fire, the priest sat up straight and adjusted his position inconspicuously.

"He has an outstanding disciple." Kraft stood up shakily, holding on to the rock wall. "I'm not talking about academics. Of course, that disciple's academic achievements are not bad either."

"His disciples have the ability to make the right choices independently, and will try to correct even the mistakes of absolute authority. If not, our progress would be delayed countless times."

"It is a blessing to have such a disciple. I hope my disciples can do the same in the future."

"Do you think you will make a mistake one day?" Green confirmed that the person he was facing was sober, but a certain possibility in the words made him feel uneasy.

It was as if in the extreme silence, one could hear the sound of a thin shell cracking. New cracks intertwined with old cracks to form a network, with only a layer of egg membrane maintaining continuity, rising and falling with the activities of the things inside.

"Who knows? Everyone makes mistakes, even saints make mistakes sometimes." Kraft moved his joints, trying to get his clammy, rusty body moving again. "It's not a possibility, it's a matter of time, it's just a matter of size."

Kraft hesitantly took out long tweezers and two small bottles from the best-protected bag on his body, used the long sword to pry open the puncture wound, reached deep into the wound, tore off a few pieces of tissue and threw them into the bottle for sealed storage.

This behavior made Green's eyes twitch and he hesitated to speak.

"Let's go, looking at these faces makes me uncomfortable." He has seen too many deeply distorted faces, some of which are even more bizarre and abnormal, but seeing them for the first time in interpersonal relationships is another experience.

It's like waking up late at night and seeing yourself in a floor-length mirror, and feeling a sudden sense of panic.
Some say that people see themselves in others, and maybe that's the case.

Kraft reached out and pulled Green up from the ground, ending his nap. He had stayed here long enough.

The team left the burning fireball behind and moved deeper.

After crossing a certain boundary, the stacked stone walls began to gradually become lower, and the gravel on the ground seemed to become thinner, until the things buried by them were revealed.

It was an endless pale and dark color that stretched out under my feet. The dull black color was mixed and melted into it, seeping into it and intermingling with it, like a group of snakes entangled and biting each other, indistinguishable from each other.