Krafft's Anomaly Notes

Chapter 328 Sculptor

"Should we go down and look for that 'trigger'?"

"I don't think it's suitable for everyone to go down here together." Kraft took out the last two sample bottles. The harvest from this trip was far richer than ever before. The various samples might refresh his cognition in the near future.

"To be precise, it's not suitable for any human to go down there, but unfortunately there's nothing I can do here."

He did not look away like the others did, but stared at the moving sculpture that was constantly oozing black liquid for a while, patiently waiting for these indeterminate things to react.

However, they did not, but only moved slowly and periodically in a fixed rhythm, apparently showing no interest in the living things, light and heat so close to them.

"I have an idea." Kraft tentatively threw the burnt torch into the pit, but still did not provoke any further reaction. "The rope I brought should still be there, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just in case, I need someone to pull me up if necessary." Kraft took the rope handed to him by Wadin, tied a knot over his waist and shoulders that was secure enough.

The rope is very heavy and strong enough for its weight. It's really hard for Wadin to carry it all the way here. It was originally prepared to secure the boat or cross special terrain when necessary, and now it finally comes in handy.

"I suggest that friends who are in a trance turn their backs. If necessary, I will pull the rope three times in quick succession as a signal, and then you will pull me back as hard and as quickly as possible."

He stretched the rope hard, making sure that even if he was torn into two pieces, this thing would not break into two pieces. The diameter was about the thickness of two thumbs put together, which was enough for tug-of-war with the carriage.

"See you later." The professor put down the package, threw the rope loop back into Wadin's hand, handed the near end to the priest, and took the first step towards the pit that looked like a picture of hell.

He spread his arms to keep his balance and placed his feet, which carried no weight, on the petrified limbs that looked relatively sturdy. The tiny branches swinging blindly scratched the surface of his boots, leaving white marks and a sound like sandpaper rubbing against each other.

The center of gravity of the body slowly moved over the edge and leaned forward until the second boot was lifted and stepped into it as well.

There was a long wait of several seconds, and Green saw Kraft make a "everything is normal" gesture behind him, then took the second step with the lantern held high.

It was only a body length away, and the figure staggered, as if suddenly crashing into a sticky and heavy environment. The physical and mental pressure was shared by the buoyancy, becoming slow and light.

He subconsciously tightened his grip on the rope with both hands. He almost felt that he would receive a signal in the next second, or that the other party had lost the ability to send a signal.

But Kraft immediately regained his balance, took another step forward, and seemed to quickly adapt to the change.

It feels like the fish is not walking actively, but rather is being pushed by the tide to swim towards the place it is destined to arrive at in life. It has always been like this and should be like this.

Thousands of slender fingers gather together as if knowing something, becoming the waiters who understand the guest's mind the most, always rolling out the red carpet in front of the VIP's place at the right time, forming a road that changes with the direction of advance.

The pain fades away temporarily, the mind becomes clear and empty, and the environment in turn changes to suit one's will.

Everything is perverse and comfortable, the road moves forward with footsteps, objective rules obey subjective will, and spirit determines matter.

The situation was a bit strange, but the empty consciousness was free and light, which was very comfortable. He continued walking for a while, relaxed his arms and swayed them naturally, and handed the lantern to his empty hands.

As I went deeper, the rope became heavier, pulling my upper body back slightly. I paid some attention to it and used both hands to lift it, but the feedback was not clear, the thick rope was as light as cotton thread.

Another step-by-step descent, where the black liquid gathered. He reached out to hold the soles of his feet, lifting himself up and away from the liquid surface with scaly ripples.

The body seems not as light as it was at the beginning. The feeling of sluggishness hinders the conscious control of the limbs. More attention is required to perform fine movements. It is like waking up in the library after a long nap, moving the numb arms due to pressure, and the heavy object pressing on the arms is always there.

Among the countless spiral floors, tall bookshelves are lined up one after another, filled with book spines in four colors. They are arranged in pairs facing each other, giving a strong sense of order.

My consciousness naturally took the book handed to me, opened it and flipped through it. The pages were densely packed with words and matched with bizarrely detailed patterns, and my sight was like spilled ink, quickly flowing over and swallowing the words and seeping into the pages below.

New knowledge flows in the consciousness, some of which are novel and wonderful and unheard of. Some of them have a high-level view on mainstream viewpoints, while some of them simply start from the blind spots of thinking that have never been imagined, point out completely new pathways, interconnect and connect the originally unrelated contents, and from point to surface, make the vision suddenly clear.

What I have learned before cannot even fill in the prologue, and there are even countless omissions and errors, which is so simple that it is shameful.

The inspiration he got in the first moment allowed him to identify the possible causes of several diseases with unclear pathogenic mechanisms in the traditional sense, and then conceive targeted treatment plans.

His consciousness was like a dehydrated person opening his thirsty lips to receive the information pouring down, but it only stayed for a short time, flowing through the mouth, only slightly moistening the tip of the tongue, and even this little moisture was evaporating. This made him at a loss, and he raised his hands to look for loopholes, pressing on both cheeks, covering his jaw, trying to grab the esophagus that was moving. The rough texture, like the friction of gravel, made his skin feel a little strange.

Kraft propped up his eyelids, which had closed at some point, and tried to look around. The sudden intensification of the burning sensation on his cheek prevented him from twisting his neck any further.

The light of the lantern was left far behind, barely perceptible, and multi-toed limbs surrounded him, with a petrified texture clinging to his face.

A multi-sectioned flexible arm stretched out from the darkness below and reached out to him. It tightly grasped his left hand. Slender fingers of varying lengths passed through the gaps between the fingers and wrapped around the back of his hand and wrist. The pale geometric fragments inlaid on the two arms shone brightly.

The stinging pain in the palm of my hand reminded me that something had pierced my skin, but the pain quickly disappeared from my consciousness.

【trigger】

He "held" something, but it was not his palm, but a hard object of irregular shape. His slender "fingers" stretched into the gap, grasped the small depressions on the surface, and penetrated into the object in a zigzag manner, becoming one with it.

The space narrowed rapidly, but not to the extent that it cut off spiritual senses. The body seemed to have returned to an embryonic state with no memories. The amniotic cavity was so flat that it was unable to move, and the thin amniotic fluid was not enough to cover the entire body. Some unformed tissue was developing in it.

The self is infinitely diluted, like ink dripping into a lake, spreading into the new body cognition - the space has not become smaller, but it has become larger.

This connection must be severed immediately, but before that, there is one last thing to do.

He mobilized all his thinking abilities and temporarily captured a small piece of information he had seen from the knowledge that could not be retained, which was about how to solidify a certain substance into a tough structure by quickly depositing it.

It can build the most basic support framework for advanced movements, or it can transform these frameworks into inside-out sharp thorns in ultra-restricted use.

It remained in consciousness for only a moment, but even that moment was enough.

【calcium】

Around a theme, consciousness weaves and mixes it with the "pacemaker", gently stirring up the fluctuations that shroud the thin "amniotic fluid".

At that moment, Kraft was sure that he was satisfied. He was a sculptor who had completed the work he wanted with a simple chisel in his hand.

Under the command of an effect exactly opposite to that of digitalis, cells excrete calcium ions in large quantities, and a second command, through a mechanism that has already slipped away from the mind, causes the secreted calcium to be deposited at a rate tens of millions times faster, transforming into real stone before it has a chance to become bone - hydroxyapatite, calcium phosphate, calcium carbonate, calcium oxalate, all the damn stuff that cannot be easily reabsorbed.

Sand and gravel are generated in the interstitial spaces and circulation of tissues, blocking blood vessels, jamming joints, and turning soft tissues into rough calcified lesions.

Unfortunately, the only person here who could understand this work died not long ago, and even if he were alive, he would not be able to share this joy.

The remaining ignorant people can only see the fleeting celestial light that seems like an illusion on the ground.

Before they could react, the sculpture was completed and the ropes in their hands were pulled three times in a regular pattern.

The main plot of this volume is basically completed here.

ε(*｀)зThis is a really long volume. The rest is mostly just some post-processing, a small side story, and then the introduction to the next chapter.

Due to various reasons, the author's mental state has fluctuated for a while. I am very grateful for everyone's support and encouragement. I feel much better now, and perhaps the next update will be better.

In addition, I still hope that dear readers can give their opinions, suggestions and suggestions on recent content. Your reading and comments are the greatest support for the author!

Finally, I would like to recommend a book to my friends in the group: The Multiverse Survival Guide! It is a rare anti-utopian suspense style. This is the book I am most looking forward to recently!
The work is set in a dystopian near-future setting. It has a unique rendering of the numb, high-pressure, and indifferent environment, with a blurred boundary between reality and fantasy. Reading it gives you a strange experience of appreciating a lead-gray postmodern painting from a high vantage point while being in it.

The protagonist, a social animal trapped in a high-rise building, finds that this world begins to intersect and merge with an even worse, bloody, doomsday supernatural world, like a glass of sour wine mixed with Nurgard soup, resulting in more abstract but at least fresh enough developments.

The overall feeling of the work is like the texture of Fargo and Fight Club. The extreme numbness and indifference are brewing even more extreme madness. Although the number of words is small, it is enough to make people look forward to it.

ps: If any group members have written a book, they can ask me to recommend its chapters, with priority given to the types related to the genre of "killer"!

~(￣▽￣～)(～￣▽￣)～