Tucked away deep in the dungeons under the wooden house, it is full of unpleasant things. Although the men and women held here did not have many physical scars, their spirits were so broken that they were not physically dead when compared to the remains of the corpses in the room outside. I know very well that mental torture is more painful than ** torture, and these tortured people appear in front of me, no matter which organization the culprit comes from, whether it is NOG, or Internet ball, and no matter what their purpose is, it is to save more people, or just to have fun, or it is a mental abnormality, an abnormality in the behavior of the guide, I don't think I can treat them as calmly as usual.

A violent, magma-like burning emotion rolled deep inside me. It's not just hatred and anger, it's not a sense of confrontation that behas more than you accept, but it also includes these negative emotions. Originally, I still viewed the attackers led by the "interlocutors" from a neutral point of view, and I never thought that they would do such a thing, but the situation in front of me made me feel that the next time we met again, I would never kill them again with such a neutral, calm and reciprocal position.

I have always known that many things in the mystical circle are not beautiful, or rather, because of the strange and unpredictable existence of "mysterious", there are countless conspiracies promoted by "sacrifice", and even if "sacrifice" is not used, there will be other ways to harm others as much as possible in order to gain power. But even though this kind of thing is commonplace in occult circles, I never think it's the right thing to do.

Psychiatric abnormalities. The abnormality of the director's behavior may be the inevitable result of helplessness at the root, and it is inevitable that people who have been distorted because of the "mystery" will peep at innocent passers-by with coveted eyes. Even so. Nor do I think that this helplessness and necessity is correct.

When was the last time you saw such a bleak scene? When did such love tumble in my heart? It seems far away, but in fact, in my memory, it is not far away at all. It happens all the time, and the moment in front of me is nothing more than tearing open the wound that has not yet healed, and once again telling me how sad the apocalyptic illusion is. What a twisted world.

The reason why I subconsciously believe that the world without "mystery" is the real world, I will always regard "mystery" as the embodiment of malignancy, and I will always regard the reality of the hospital that does not reflect the "mysterious" in that deep memory, and even the world of the repeater before the spread of mystery, as extremely important. Even. In a trance, I feel that they should be "real". Probably because of this. In the world I see, there is no "mysterious" world, although there are also dark and tragic things, but it makes me feel that it is still better than a world full of "mysteries".

Yes, even in a world where there is no "mystery", there will definitely be this horrific scene in front of you. And I can't deny it. If there is a world that is absolutely real, there will also be all kinds of darkness that makes people feel angry and unjust, enough to destroy common sense and morality. However, I still hope that there is no "mysterious" real world. It is a world full of "mystery", which can allow more people to live happily, even if there are setbacks, it is only setbacks, and there will not be too many people who suffer this kind of dark pain for some reasons that have nothing to do with themselves.

I want everyone to be happy, but if not, I want most people, at least the people I love, to live in a happy and wonderful world.

Instead of being filled with this miserable situation in front of you, the end will not end, and at some point, you will be destroyed, tortured, sacrificed, and killed by people who have nothing to do with you.

Doomsday Fantasy is a world with the theme of apocalypse, and every time it is born, it is just for the return of the apocalypse. Even if all the existence of zài is inevitably about to usher in the end of the world, I still think that it must be a mistake to be born, developed and save zài only for the sake of the "end times".

Even if this world is not a "fantasy" in the full sense of the word, I don't think this world is correct. In a world like Zài, even if it seems to be happy for the time being, there will inevitably be a terrible fate hanging over you. Facts have proved that any strong person in spirit and ** has never escaped such a fate, and when they recognize the inevitability of the apocalypse, they have fallen in the process of apocalypse. Fighting against fate and fighting back may be the choice of the strong, but not all in a world are strong, and it should not be wrong to be unable to become strong.

people, there should be more choices.

A right world should also be able to give more choices. Whether it's right or wrong for the guy who made the choice, it's strong or cowardly.

Even if you become a strong man, you can't solve the doomsday fate.

Unable to accommodate the weak, there is only a world of the weak and the strong in behavior, and there is no world of compassion in zài's thoughts.

Each time is just a repetition of the previous tragedy, or a reincarnation of a more serious tragedy.

These are all wrong.

"I'll try to save a qiē." That's what I say to the people in this dungeon. I wasn't surprised that they didn't respond, they probably didn't know what I was talking about, what I was trying to say, or maybe they were so broken in their hearts that they couldn't think more about trying to help. They may be desperate for a qiē, which is why their eyes are so empty. They don't believe me, they don't listen to what I say, but that's not the reason for someone trying to save something, to give up or to get angry.

I wanted to help the tormented people in front of me, not for retribution, nor for the sake of emotional impulses, and from the very beginning, I did not expect anything from them, even hypocritical spiritual comfort.

I do it simply because I think it's the result of the wrong and I have to practice what I'm right.

"Connector, Anna, boy!" I shouted a few times, and sure enough, there was no response. If they're still intact, they should react when I come in. The people in the cage were horribly tortured. It is difficult to discern the difference between each person just from the appearance, because they have all become the same miserable appearance.

In the dungeon, only my voice echoed. There were also people looking at me, but there was nothing in this gaze. I could barely feel the gaze focused on me, they seemed to be looking at the space I was in, not me.

But, it doesn't matter.

I drew my long knife and slashed at the cage. The fist-thick iron bars that seemed to be supported by black iron splashed sparks, but there was no sign of wavering, and the unimaginable countershock force directly bounced the long knife away. Sure enough, the people in this cage are probably not ordinary patients. Maybe some of them are members of some mysterious organization. And in order to trap them, this cage must be special.

In an instant, I slashed a hundred times, each time in the same position of the same iron bar, but again, it had no desired effect. It's a bit surprising, but. When I think of those people there are such powerful consciousness walkers as the zài "talkers", then. It is not unbelievable that this can be done in this nightmare of consciousness.

But no matter how strong it is to imprison the occult experts and stop the erosion of the "mystery", I must destroy it. Not to find a way to destroy it. Rather, it must be destroyed. Otherwise, the rescue of these suffering victims is just a pipe dream.

If the blade can't be cut, awaken its power. It's like it's been done in the past, even if it's an uncontrollable power. I often lose the sense of memory in my mind, and even if I use it many times, I often can't remember how I did it at the time and when I should use it. I even wondered why such power was given to me. I have been thinking all the time, and I am also confused by the conclusions I have reached, thinking is an instinct, but I often cannot fully believe in the conclusions I have come up with, and I have repeatedly overturned some of the conclusions I have reached by my previous thinking.

In this way, I am not a consciousness walker, but I have gained the power to walk consciously. And isn't it natural that such a power cannot be wielded as freely as a true consciousness walker?

I grabbed the fist-sized bar with both hands, feeling the sturdiness of the sturdiness. I looked around at the crowd, and in their faces that had no expression and no look, not even looking at this side at all, there was no power, no power that could help me, help themselves, and even gave up on saving myself. There is a voice in my heart that says to me, they are now a group of useless and weak people. However, because I was looking at them, the burning and tumbling emotion in my heart seemed to burn in my blood.

The world shouldn't be like this.

People's faces should not be so expressionless.

There was a voice, urging me to give up, and another, from the silence, began to make the first sound, and then roared.

Come out! Come out for me!

The air seemed to be ignited, the heat was surging, and the source of the change seemed to come from my body. No, it's from the heart!

The scene before my eyes was distorted, I didn't know what I was seeing, and I felt as if I was falling, into the deep, terrible darkness. I saw the points of light beneath the abyss, like a starry sky, and like countless eyes, and I felt that beneath those points of light, an ineffable being, wriggling in an indescribable way. Like a turn in hibernation, like a hazy before waking up, like an unconscious grin, like the sound of grinding teeth.

I couldn't think, however, I knew I had to wake up. So, suddenly, I came back to my senses.

The cage in front of me was still in front of me, and I was tearing, the sturdy cage creaking. The people inside have a little movement, and this small movement is not hopeful, but I hope that they can look at my strength, and in this gaze, I can find my strength as a human being.

I feel like I'm burning, not just **, but also love, but also inner burning. The burning filled my arms with strength, and the crunching sound of the cage creaking was like a wail.

Consciousness walking! It was as if lightning was rushing through my nerves and in my mind.

"Twist it." I say so.

Then, the cage began to twist. First, the iron bar held in the hand was stretched open, and then the iron bar that was not held by the hand was also deformed by the invisible force. While this force twists the cage, it also seems to gnaw at the cage. Its foundations deep in the ground began to loosen, and then I pulled it up from the ground.

Not some cell that separates out, but a whole cage that is knotted together, twisted, lifted, and torn apart!

I let out a low growl, violent, vulgar, without any skill. But if it weren't for such a tear, it wouldn't have calmed my heart.

I screamed, with even greater force, almost losing sensation in my arm, and then, I heard a crunch, as if porcelain had fallen to the ground.

The cage that I tore open and lifted high shattered in an instant, turning into countless star-like lights, exploding in all directions, and quickly dissolving into the air.

My brain, my nerves, were a little paralyzed at this moment. I watched, and began to look up at the stardust people, their empty eyes seemed to have changed somewhat.

"Now, you're free." I say.

Some people's eyes dimmed again, as if they were seized by despair in their hearts, and returned to that miserable and miserable state. But there are also a small number of people who slowly stood up, their eyes fluctuated a little, I don't know, what kind of love is it, but it's better than no love at all. At the same time, I felt anomalous fluctuations, and from that filthy dark corner, there was a large amount of fine matter moving in the observation of the chain judgment. It's like dust blown up by the wind, but this activity has a clear sense of regularity and synchronicity, and it is definitely not a natural phenomenon.

The wind does not blow in from the outside, but is triggered by the collective activity of these dusty fine debris. At first it was somewhat soothing, but after a breath, it turned into a sweeping wind. Everyone couldn't help but raise their hands to block the tide, and although the situation was unusual, my instincts didn't report back to danger.

The dust gathers and turns into ashes, and the ashes gather together and pile up in human form.

I knew I was in the right place. (To be continued......)