Krafft's Notes on Anomalies

"That's how they got in."

Green found the place corresponding to the map. The last team that left entered from here and entered the tunnel against the current.

To be honest, these cave entrances are all similar in length, and the location is determined by counting them one by one. In order to prevent being discovered, the team will not mark the cave entrances in the hall.

When entering a deep branch, they would carve a scratch that was not easy to notice, and agreed to explore the branch in order from right to left.

On the one hand, it is to prevent the extremely unlikely possibility of collective amnesia, and on the other hand, it is to deal with the current situation so that those who are looking for them can know where they have been and which branch they are on.

Facing the direction of the hall, Green retreated step by step into the corridor, until the dim light dispersed by the water mist could no longer be detected, leaving only the dim yellow light illuminating the surroundings.

The strong pulsing in the chest suggested that the heart was not as calm as it appeared. His blood vessels were beating against his head, leaving him in a state of pain and sobriety.

My head is swelling and aching, as if I was reading at night by candlelight during an endless night. A large number of things more bizarre than the pagan records in the volume are stuffed into my mind, tumbling and rolling, like amorphous objects rotating to show the surface of super-spatial imagination. It's like a river polluted by grease changing into endless colors.

"We have to hurry up." He urged, turned around, picked up his feet, and moved deeper into the passage.

This is a purely physical job that does not require much thinking, causing the excess energy to run uncontrollably, replaying content derived from what is seen and heard but not limited to what is seen and heard.

[Underground, water, moon]

It also has the power to tear apart solid stone, and the cut section is smoother than silverware wiped with fine silk. And those old cracks show that this power has visited this place more than once.

When you want to ignore those things temporarily, you will find that they are like the long cracks carved into the hall, so profound that time cannot blur them.

He put the hand on the side of his head on the stone wall and felt a newly carved mark at about waist height, where he had to lower his head to see it.

The fork in the road, the search team entered from the side with the notch.

Considering that the search team needs to keep an eye on the cave walls, it probably won't be too difficult to catch up.

Uncomfortably, the upward movement did not make them feel that they were gradually getting rid of the gloom and uneasiness.

An indescribable atmosphere is still lingering around me, as if when passing through the hall, the pale light has clung to me along with the mist and cannot be dispelled.

For Green, this feeling is especially evident.

The unevenly distributed coldness comes from time to time, and the feeling of coldness floats throughout the body, even intruding into the realm of the torch, as if two temperatures are clearly merged together.

The varying sensations were so distinct that Green felt that it was not a real temperature, but a sensory metaphor.

"Father, you don't look well." The monk behind him couldn't help but remind him.

Based on their usual understanding, the priest's physical fitness was obviously not so bad that he would turn pale if he walked a little. There was some intense internal friction that was draining his physical strength, but he was not aware of it yet.

"Do you feel a little cold?" Green turned around and uttered a question with bloodless lips. When he started to speak, he discovered that he couldn't control his tongue well.

The answer was two neat shakes of the head. Even though his clothes were partially soaked, the torch in his hand still provided considerable heat, and the grease-soaked flame made his shoulders hot.

"Are you feeling cold?"

"Maybe." Green pulled the flame closer to him, but it didn't help.

He put his hand on the cave wall and felt the temperature of the bricks. They remained as moist and hard as ever. The cracks in the bricks hit his fingertips as he walked, giving him a regular touch.

This soothes some of the uneasiness and provides a clear sense that you are moving forward, rather than standing still.

One brick after another, orderly.

Between the two brick cracks, some other dent hit the finger.

Subconsciously, Green looked down, looking for the mark, but saw nothing. There was not a single crack on the flat stone bricks.

Perhaps it was a momentary misunderstanding, or so he thought.

Until another extra dent hit the fingertips and extended forward with the palm. The fingertips follow the indentation and turn an obtuse angle into the other side of the figure.

"This is……"

The steps paused, and the eyes turned from the front to the side, the thing passing by the palm. Before looking at it, Green had a vague idea of ​​what it was.

For the first time, something else appeared on the unchanging brick wall.

It is the size of a palm and has six sides of equal length, forming a closed figure. Several regular hexagons are seamlessly spliced ​​to form a honeycomb-like format.

The unfinished lines wander around the figure, starting out in the shape of an arc. Before completing half of the circle, they deviate from the trajectory and snake like runes. Sometimes a straight line crosses the painting, cutting the pattern in half.

It seems that two contradictory directions conflicted and became confused in the mind of the sculptor, which ultimately caused the pattern within the regular hexagon to be abandoned halfway and abandoned here.

The distinctive style makes people immediately associate it with that rubbing.

However, after careful identification, you can find that the two are not the same, and the size and texture density are inconsistent.

"Why don't they report back?"

These carvings are too obvious, so obvious that it is impossible to imagine the circumstances under which a team of ten people would pass by but turn a blind eye.

Green tried to guess the situation at that time. Perhaps he had discovered something and was too eager to pursue it without having time to stop.

But this still does not explain why the separated personnel are unwilling to return notice.

[Unless they didn’t see it at all]

He almost thought it was his own vision, an hallucination similar to the weird chill that enveloped him. But the same pattern was also reflected in the eyes of the two monks. Their eyes were attracted by the lines and could not look away for a while.

The sign at the next fork in the road only deepened the confusion.

The mark was carved neatly into the masonry, and it had to be sharpened and filed several times for reliability. There was no sign of time constraints at all.

With uneasiness and doubts, Green continued to move forward.

It can be said that a deep chill rushes towards your face, like a sudden drop into a deep ravine while trekking one foot deep and one foot shallow. First, you feel the shock of falling into a strange environment and having ice water cover your mouth and nose. Then, the aversion to cold sifts through your whole body. .

The vision was slightly and briefly deflected through the flames.

Then those things showed up.

He saw more hexagons, no longer just a few or one. They replaced the gaps in the masonry and covered the entire cave wall. The honeycomb grid climbed up to the top and sank downwards into the gurgling water and silt.

Contradictory graphics are repeated desperately in it, straight-line traversing circles, meandering lines, conflicting and intertwining with each other, and each time they are close to taking shape, they are interrupted by another.

The pain, doubt, anger, and morbid longing for the true form accumulated by the artist during his long work intuitively impact the eyeballs of the witness through vision.

Among the graphics that were dense enough to cause panic, they saw a figure from behind.

A rusty back. Reddish-brown rust spots and traces of some kind of barnacle-like biological growth cover the surface. The connectors and chain mail have long been twisted and hardened, and a relief pattern plated with precious metal can be vaguely discerned on the breastplate.

[A sword of unknown shape]