Krafft's Notes on Anomalies

【Clinic suspension】

A wooden sign was hung at the entrance of Solace Harbor's most high-profile clinic in recent times, breaking up the early morning queue into a noisy crowd.

"Yes, yes, the doctor is not feeling well today. Please come back." The man with a hammer hanging on his waist pushed the crowd away forcefully, but the deliberately suppressed volume could not reach the entire crowd. The nails under his robe It also lacks a deterrent effect on this group of sea madmen.

He began to be glad that after receiving the bonus, he did not spend it on meaningless consumption like the sailors. Instead, he purchased some lighter armor, including buckle-fixed breastplates and arm guards, which were often used for those who needed protection but A mercenary group that needs to be easily carried.

The starting point was to learn practical lessons, but the first time it worked, it helped him gain an advantage in physical collisions.

In fact, if it were not for the attitude of the clinic owner, the situation would have gotten out of control long ago. The commotion is mainly composed of sailors, and their stay here is limited. The next visit may be several months later, which is unacceptable to them.

It is difficult to verify how the news spread. It was probably William the Bearded, the legendary captain who found the treasure in the southern hills, who promoted his friend's new clinic while recruiting people.

In Port Solace, news spread in two extremes. Uninteresting content stops where it is generated. Even without the barrier of a half-curtain, you cannot get out of the room. Once you have the right port to cater to the hard needs that the public is most concerned about, it will become very useful. penetrating.

Some worm-like rumors traveled among the cups, plates and beds, burrowed through the wooden partitions and window lattice, dug through the stone and brick walls, and spread from one house to another on the streets decorated with inferior glass.

In the end, these casual talks were put on the table, and they tended to become the successor to the treasure hunt incident.

Many guys who used their wounds to show off their tough guy qualities were exposed within a few days, and it was pointed out that they had visited the same rumored clinic.

Those who heard the news and had the idea of ​​taking a chance gathered at the door of a ridiculously clean shop on the edge of the city and became witnesses or witnesses, as well as spreaders of the news.

[People who take away diseases in their sleep]

There is no longer any joke about the fastest and second fastest surgeon in Hong Kong. Barbers, times have changed!

Hearsayers are happy to ask patients about it, and those who have experienced it have repeatedly answered them: Yes, it is exactly the same as the rumors, or even better.

It meets all the fantasies of a high-end place: an environment as clean as a church floor, first-class white glassware, waste of expensive spirits to cleanse the skin, unclear notification of illness, and a process full of rituals, and in the end, you can get Go back and brag about an incomprehensible paper certificate.

And most importantly – accept a price within the range. The cost of treatment is set at a level that is higher than that of its peers, but not so high that it is unaffordable.

There is no need to go into details about how Kraft reduced costs. The core technology of pharmaceutical consumables is all in hand. The supplier of glass equipment is an old acquaintance, Witcham. He basically relies on himself for labor costs. Maybe only the metal equipment is made in the blacksmith shop and the house is bought with money.

Perhaps this is the reason for Kupp's current difficult situation. He tried his best to block the waves of people. Those who explained clearly could not get out, and those who did not hear outside could not get in. He experienced the working experience at the front desk of the hospital in advance.

If Yvonne hadn't foresighted to order Yvonne to fasten the door lock inside, he would have been squeezed into the clinic by the crowd with the door shut.

This was a completely unexpected incident, and he couldn't even explain the reason to the patient who made an appointment yesterday, because he himself couldn't understand what caused the scene he saw last night.

While the outside world is spreading rumors about the miracle doctor's deeds of "removing pain in dreams", only a few people around the "miracle doctor" who know him best know that the legendary figure of Solace Harbor is being troubled by dreams.

It seems that there is some corresponding price, and the person who will be given the ability to sleep has already lost sleep for a long time.

At first, it was Coop who noticed that he was glowing with extraordinary energy. The blade and pen tip were running alternately in his hand, and the ink and blood merged. Kraft resumed the habit of staying with the manuscript late at night in the academy.

In addition to the endless work, what is most relevant to the retinue is the increased academic burden. Kraft actually found time to supervise them to speed up their learning process, and tried to get the two of them to watch content that was obviously a bit advanced, such as the latest anesthesia operations.

But soon some tendencies that made him feel uneasy were revealed. These things had already been revealed, from the conversations on the ship about the connection between past experiences and dreams, to the instructions not to disturb him in his sleep under any circumstances.

Although Kraft was still meticulously executing his elaborate, ritualistic process during the day, repeated and increasingly frequent erasures on the manuscript suggested that he was not as good as he said he was.

Not to mention that the sudden noise in the master bedroom next door late at night was definitely not caused by rats that had not been expelled when they moved in.

When Kraft moved out of the master bedroom and announced to them that he would rest in a room on the first floor for convenience, even Yvonne, who had slept well at night and had no chance to hear strange noises, noticed something strange.

But no one here would question anything. The two of them only knew that Kraft rolled up the quilt and slept in a small corner room on the first floor further away, and had a habit of locking the door.

And those late-night noises disappeared from next door as Kraft moved, like a pack of rats migrating, and instead haunted the shadows under the stairs. Coop looked worriedly at the source of the sound several times, but his unlit pacing made his outstretched feet retract.

The salty and cold sea breeze at night could not wake up his drowsy consciousness and eyes. Kupu vaguely felt that the darkness in the corridor had a sense of layering similar to that at night in the southern hills. It was like a body of water that was not too clear, blocking his sight, making it visible in the thin moonlight. The scene on the first floor is unclear.

He wasn't sure whether it was the night blindness Kraft had mentioned, or some other non-visual cause. This feeling was interrupted by another sudden noise of wooden furniture hitting and shifting, and the sound of pacing in the darkness continued all night long.

No matter what Kraft was doing, it wasn’t to relax when he was tired from writing.

Kraft noticed the decline in his work status during the day and apologized for the interruption at night, but still had no intention of explaining more. And Kupp knew that what made him restless and sleepless was not the dispensable sound that was reduced by the door panels and walls, but a certain... atmosphere behind it that could only be felt intuitively.

Coop tried to communicate with Yvonne, who was addicted to the new course. The girl did not resonate with this at all. She just felt that giving up the big bedroom did not bring convenience, and it was just a superficial reason that was not a reason.

This act of explaining for the sake of explaining fails to make the action legitimate because of Kraft's academic narrative style.

He hesitated whether to ask about this matter, whether it was necessary to ask, and from what position he was asking. Was it just to resolve doubts about an issue that he didn't need to know?

The tangled thoughts finally came to an end.

Last night, during another sleepless moment, Coop heard the familiar and hard-to-get-used sound of activity downstairs, but this time it was particularly short...and intense.

He heard the breath that seemed to come from another world blasting in his ears, like the dark water breaking through the weak dam and gushing out at the foot of the wall.

Not caring about anything else, Coop jumped up from the bed and came to the stairs. On the first floor, where the doors and windows are locked, extensive and counterintuitive changes in objects and images are taking place in the dark and unclear space. A layer of specious and ghostly images covers things like melted grease.

He rubbed his groggy eyes with his fingers, trying to refocus them, but the hallucinatory phenomenon did not disappear, but intensified.

The consciousness had to admit that this was what happened in reality. Centered on the room at the edge of the first floor, the scene in a small area had varying degrees of edge blurring and shifting.

It looks like two pieces of drawing paper have been forcibly joined together, with the handwriting of the latter piece imprinted on the previous one. The extra blurred strokes make the originally identifiable content complicated and unfamiliar.

Some kind of force that he couldn't understand was promoting this process, bringing another damp, dark, and deprived level closer to the present world. The similar but different contents of the two oil paintings were interpenetrating into each other in an amorphous manner.

The object was subjected to chaotic forces in the unstable interlacing, like a semi-solid paste in a storm being pulled out of an extended deformation like a sharp stalactite.

This force is uneven and spreads out from a certain central point in an explosive manner. Whether it is utensils, tables, chairs or walls, asynchronous transformation puts each part of the object in a different state. They are like raw eggs beaten into a bowl, stirred wildly and evenly, gradually falling apart and collapsing.

Coop watched with his own eyes as the cracks in the wall were swallowed up by undulating folds, the long neck of the glass container twisted like a living snake, the wooden door near the center swelled and shrank like a curtain in the windless storm, and the metal door handle dissolved into The wood grain elongates into a copper-colored hairspring.

The indescribable scene released an aura that he was familiar with. The white-light crawling things, the floating surfaces on the mountain road, and the rickety-shelled monster brought the unique eerie atmosphere of another world.

The scar on the back of his waist ached faintly, which reminded him of how the dagger appeared behind him accompanied by this aura. When this phenomenon was magnified countless times and presented before his eyes, he could understand the principle without learning or explanation— —Quickly immerse yourself in another world and then return to this world again.

Now, what my eyes witnessed was a similar speed, but different.

All horrific scenarios occurred within seconds and subsided quickly. Coop prepared himself mentally and bravely pushed open the twisted wooden door. The brittle metal wires and curly whisker-shaped stones made the pain in his shoulders worse.

At the center of the accident, all man-made objects could no longer distinguish their original shapes. They were drawn into a solid vortex, fused and penetrated with each other. Under the moonlight shining through the broken window, they showed extremely rich, complex and disturbing patterns like the diffraction of oil films on sewage. Colors that people viscerally reject.

A window sill potted plant that was transplanted the day before yesterday to improve the environment has its roots still rooted in a half-elliptical flower pot. The stem fibers are woven into the wooden frame and spiral rocks. The strange-shaped leaves that shimmer with transparent glass fragments have never been identified. Chaos ripples up and down.

It’s hard to imagine what would happen if a person was involved. It would be a blessing to die like this. It would be better than to see the body being disrupted but still seeming to have some kind of life like this plant.

At the center of the chaos and distortion, he saw a solid figure.

The figure still maintained its human form, and the spirit that controlled the body seemed to have temporarily exhausted all its strength, causing the movements to stay on alert, and the left hand was free to grab something in the sleeve.

This gave Coop some peace of mind. It's not the worst case scenario. No matter what happened, at least Kraft was not affected.

He approached in small steps, circling the twisted material in the sky, trying to move Kraft from inside to a safe area, away from the chaotic vortex with many horns and thorns.

Whispers rang in his ears, and after careful identification, Coop finally heard the few words that came from Kraft's mouth:

"I see……"

In the nightmare of tossing and turning, and indistinguishable reality, Kraft finally realized the part that his own thinking could explain.

Those dreams, the deep existence forced from the limited space, the limited space that is difficult to escape in the three-dimensional space, and the dim situation with inconvenient visual use, all force the subconscious to use means that are not available in the current world.

Extraordinary memory, spiritual senses, and level travel are solidified into conscious cognition and neural conditioned reflexes through repeated use, transforming "not-self" into "me".

The scars from the Facetaker were not causes but triggers, adding to the accumulation of deep gifts with each embrace, deepening the connection.

The spirit has long been transformed, and the subjective consciousness has given tacit approval to the use of new senses. Of course, it will not regard a scratch of the deep "similar" as a "non-self" that needs to be cleaned and disinfected. This is the essence of the so-called "forgetting".

The speed of sinking and rising is accelerating, but it always requires a stable environment and activation time, and it will never be able to catch up with the free movement of real deep creatures, and it is not even as good as the level of most of the transformed rickets.

The ability to disappear in front of one's face and flash behind one's back as described by Kupp would take Kraft ten times more time to achieve step by step.

The mingling of the spirit, which is increasingly connected to a deeper level, and the body, which is entirely a creature of this world, forces the process to speed up. The more frequently nightmares induce the use of deep-related abilities, the deeper the connection becomes, which in turn promotes more nightmares in the mind.

A vicious cycle, or for those changes in the spirit, a positive cycle back to where it came from.

But if that's all it is, it's a dead end.

Suppose the movement of those deep creatures is that of fish jumping out of the water and back into the water, and the two are intimately connected. The current situation is a failed dive by a land creature. There is no posture control, and the speed of approaching between levels has been stretched to the limit. Water splashes everywhere and it is a mess.

A wrong level transfer, which seemed to be to avoid the cave builder in the dream, the subconscious mind mobilized all the energy to try to realize the shuttle like the deep creatures.

The human body was holding back its hind legs, and it could not reach the limit of its endurance. All the uncontrollable "remaining energy" turned into a spreading "splash", causing some kind of confusion between levels, which almost caused the body to collapse. into it.

Kraft tried to move his body, but his exhausted spirit did not support him, and the weak twitching of his muscles only made him lose his balance.

Coop hurriedly reached out and held his stiff left arm, and they both let out a cry of pain at the same time.

"What is this?" The subordinate, who had extensive experience in injuries, reflexively let go in pain, but quickly reacted and grabbed it again.

What stung the palm were a few pieces of dull stone that had never been seen before. They were probably embedded in Kraft's left arm during the confusion just now. Blood dripped down the fingers that were fixed in a virtual grip.

The question was not answered. He helped Kraft sit on the edge of the bed. After a long silence, the latter suddenly started talking about something that sounded unrelated.

"I heard such a story." Kraft pinched a piece of stone and tried to pull it out, but failed. "A man woke up alone in a strange place. There was a tall tower there, a tall black tower."

"Do you need some bandages or warm water?" Coop wanted to persuade him to calm down for a while, but Craft didn't look like he would be persuaded.

"In desperate solitude, along the narrow path with only room for one foot, he climbed up the high tower without steps." Kraft continued to tell the story in a sinister tone, as if just to satisfy himself. Expressing desire is like a sacrifice conveying some kind of fable by the fire.

"He climbed to the top of the tower, pushed aside the stone slabs blocking the way, and saw the moonlight... and the endless familiar fields under the moonlight."

"Stepping onto the ancient road buried in weeds and crossing the river, the remains of the stone bridge made him feel familiar."

"Finally, he walked into a familiar yet unfamiliar castle and joined a brightly lit banquet. The guests screamed in the most terrifying way, fainted in fear, or fled in all directions."

"The culprit stood in an archway in front of him. His grotesque and abominable appearance was anything but human."

"Did he escape?" Coop felt the cold air that could not be blocked by thick clothes.

"No, he walked to the arch and stretched out his finger, and the monster also stretched out its bone claws to touch him. At that moment, memories came like an avalanche, and the truth that could destroy everything defeated him."

"That is……"

【a mirror】

…

Two days later, the Legend Clinic in Solace Harbor opened as usual. It's just that there is an extra curtain in the main hall to cover the other half. The beloved doctor seems to have some difficulty with his left hand, which confirms the previous statement that he was unwell.

everything is normal.

The second...or maybe the third volume, is finished here⊙ω⊙I risked my life to put aside the new paper and speed up the progress.

Because this volume is relatively busy during this period, I am actually very worried about the decline in quality. I hope to get everyone’s feedback. If you have any comments and suggestions, you can post them in the book circle in the comment area.

Thank you dear readers for your support, remember to join the readership group to grab red envelopes (˙▽˙)