Mystery: The Ancient God is Actually Me

At eight o'clock in the morning, after returning from the gray fog last night, Klein, who had a good night's sleep, got up from the bed with blank eyes.

Backlund's temperature dropped very quickly. It was clearly not winter, but it was already cold enough to make people tremble. But even so, Klein still didn't wake up from the haze he just woke up from. Just like the rental house after graduation, he walked to the bathroom in a vague way, relying on the general memory in his head.

As the cold water flowed under the support of his palm, he was patted on his face one after another, and he only reacted.

My face, the stiffness of the human skin mask is gone? He looked at himself in the mirror with a lot of energy, and deliberately moved the muscles on his face, a little surprised.

Sure enough, the strength of "Mystery" is still reliable, so I don't have to worry about that lady bodyguard anymore... Even if the members of the Tarot Club have something to do, "Mystery" will temporarily help me deal with it. , after all, He doesn't want to let the special things in me be exposed casually.

After tidying up his clothes, he walked to the single sofa in the apartment, picked up Klein, who was leaning against the side of the coffee table, and moved his neck, slowly walking towards the door.

Just when the right hand he held on the doorknob was about to turn, his movements froze for a moment, then he turned around, looked at the empty room, and asked tentatively:

"I'm going out today, will you follow me in this way too?"

wow.

Through the glass that is not very clean, wantonly sprinkled the whole living room, the bright sunlight distorted for a while, and the face was delicate like a puppet. The bodyguard lady with blond hair and blue eyes suddenly appeared on the glass of the room window, with a clear figure.

She quietly stared at Klein who was standing at the door of the apartment. A trace of doubt seemed to slip through her calm blue eyes, she nodded slowly, and then disappeared.

Seeing the golden sunlight once again dyeing the whole room, the Miss Bodyguard in Klein's eyes has disappeared.

He controlled the urge to raise the corner of his mouth, took off the half-height silk top hat on top of his head with his right hand, bowed slightly, and then opened the door and left.

Half a minute later, walking through the familiar corridors and stairs, Klein glanced at the first floor of the apartment building. Mr. Aigron, who was sitting at the front desk as usual, silently reading the newspaper, couldn't help but quicken his pace and walked to the newspaper at the door. Before the shelf, I picked up a copy of the day's newspaper.

Or the Ripper and the Rotten Male Corpse... Hey, why is there another one now, Bone Smasher? Klein looked at an exaggerated newspaper headline, the expression changed on the face that was free from the negative effects of the magical item, and the eyebrows were raised.

Is this really the Tussock River News?

Klein, who couldn't believe that there were so many bizarre cases recently, turned over the newspaper in his hand, looked at the huge black-body logo on the first side, and fell into contemplation.

............

"Mr. Evans, this is where I found the basement." Wearing a light gray coat and carrying a black gold-studded walking stick, an old-fashioned gentleman, Miller Carter looked at the basement entrance, which was simply blocked by the servants, and turned to face A young man with a strong bookish air beside him introduced.

There is indeed a certain problem here... Open Spirit Vision in advance, combined with his own special "darkness", Dunn, who has roughly checked it out, nodded slightly. With the blessing of spiritual vision, he got rid of the isolation of darkness and examined it. The hand in his pocket couldn't help clenching as he looked at the gray and white stone door deep in the basement.

In places that ordinary people can't see, there are several slow-moving black threads in the shadows. They are intertwined and twisted into a shape that is almost tentacles, and they speed up and swim into the deeper darkness.

Controlling all of this, Dunn, whose hands were bulging with blue veins in his pockets, turned his head slightly to the side with a smile on his lips, and said casually to Mr. Carter beside him:

"It's really not a small underground space."

"Can you tell?" Miller Carter, whose temples were a little gray and had deep nasolabial lines, was stunned for a moment, and asked with some doubts.

After all, Mr. Evans, who has been repeatedly praised by Mr. Babbage, has never been in it. How can he conclude that the basement behind is not small.

Dunn, who was distracted and manipulated the "darkness", smiled, took off the glasses that had been on the bridge of his nose, and rubbed his right hand.

In another field of vision after he closed his eyes, the tentacles woven from silk threads had penetrated the tiny crack of the gray-white door and slipped behind the door.

Just as the tentacles swimming forward like a poisonous snake lifted the "snake head", a strange sound of thud had already exploded in the courtyard in the distance, interrupting Dunn, who was barely controlling the "darkness".

"Angelo, what's going on?" Mr. Carter, who suddenly heard a loud noise, turned around abruptly, supported his lower back with his right hand, and shouted at the entrance of the first floor.

In a few seconds, the young manservant called Angelo ran to his side, looked at his employer nervously and crampedly, and said not so neatly:

"Sir, just now, a baggage was thrown in just now, and a lot of black things seeped out of it..."

Dunn, who had stopped rubbing his eyes and put on his glasses again, suddenly paused, and his dark red eyes instantly got rid of his trance. He looked at the flustered servant and asked with a frown:

"Where is that thing?"

Mr. Carter, who hadn't reacted yet, was also lost for a moment, and then immediately said:

"Yes, what was thrown in the yard? You show me and Mr. Evans now."

With that said, the two of them directly crossed Angelo, who was made more nervous by the request of the employer and the detective, and walked up the stairs, leaving only the manservant, a little dazed.

Separated by a few odds and ends, the dim and dull basement still maintains a gloomy appearance. The "darkness" that had passed through the gray-white door before was like a small snake that was pinched seven inches. The lines, struggling frantically, with a bang, returned to nothingness.

In the hall behind the gray door, countless long snakes with triangular heads and red patterns were also entangled and struggling on the ground, pouring out the most primitive desires of being a creature.

However, the three-day, endless pouring seems to have drained all their essence, and the rich blood dance lingered in the center of the hall, constantly compressing and gathering, and even the most basic fishy smell of blood did not overflow.

The blood cells that are close to vermilion move as if they are alive, like the heart of a giant beast, closing one by one, as if breathing.

Finally, the man behind the peeps that cut off the "darkness" just now, the existence in the blood mist absorbed all the sacrifices.

He ignored the ruined figure that emerged from the remnants of his ritual in front of him, and mocked maliciously:

"Look, look, who is this, isn't this the one who killed me, the 'Demon King', who dared not show up, His Royal Highness the Red Angel?"

"How did you become like this now?"

Amidst the hoarse laughter, in the depths of the hall, the figure made of gunpowder smoke and flames slowly raised his head. His young and handsome face was extremely pale, and his crimson eyes were rational and calm.

............

Williams Street, the Atomium mansion, a man in a black coat stood beside the policeman who was taking notes, looking at the large yard.

Miller Carter, who was standing not far away, looked at Angelo who was constantly being asked for details by the police, turned his head to the right subconsciously, and asked in a low voice:

"What should I do in this situation, the police shouldn't look at the basement, right?"

He and Dunn had just witnessed the servant open the package that was suddenly thrown into the garden and found that it contained a rotting and incomplete corpse!

"It shouldn't, it's just an accident." Dunn, who pushed the glasses on the bridge of his nose and looked at the corpse far away, didn't know what he was thinking, and said softly.

As he spoke, he seemed to remember something. The dark red eyes just froze, but they became dazed again. After two seconds of silence, he returned to normal and said to his employer:

"Sorry for this kind of thing, I may not be able to continue exploring the basement for you later."

He looked at the members of the Heart of Mechanism who had already walked towards him, and took out his hands from his pockets.

From the previous chat, I learned that Miller Carter is also a believer of the goddess Dunn. In order not to meet his former colleagues, while the gentleman was still at a loss, he notified the police and the heart of the machine in advance.

"I'm sorry for this gentleman, I'm Karl, the inspector of the Backlund Police Department. Next, we may need the assistance of Mr. Evans." The member of the Heart of Mechanism, who also wore a pair of glasses, pointed Nodding, he said apologetically to Miller Catcher who was beside him.

............

Mike Joseph.

Klein took the envelope that Mr. Agron had collected on his behalf before, and after deliberation for a while, he walked into the office building of the Daily Observer. Looking at the receptionist behind the front desk, he quickly asked:

"Is Mr. Mike Joseph here? I got a letter from him before."

The receptionist who was sitting behind the front desk boredly looked at the shadow that suddenly appeared in front of him~www.wuxiamtl.com~ suddenly stood up, adjusted his seemingly decadent expression, glanced at the form at hand, and turned his head said:

"Sorry, Mr. Mike went out before, what do you have to do with him?"

She looked suspiciously at the not-so-young gentleman with a slightly high hairline, and found that the envelope in the other's hand was indeed printed with the newspaper logo, so she relaxed a little.

For one thing, she's recently been terrified by gang members who keep coming to the newspaper office, unhappy with reports of dead bodies next to the Golden Rose Club.

"That's right, I'm a private investigator. This Mr. Mike saw my advertisement in other newspapers and wanted to hire me to help him complete the interview and investigation." Through Vision Vision, I found that the lady in front of me was a little nervous. Klein subconsciously used a softer tone, took two steps away from the front desk, and handed over the letter in his hand.

The receptionist who took the envelope and glanced roughly at the contents paused for a while, then pulled out a palm-sized booklet from the table under him, and placed it gently on the front desk together with the pen.

"Mr. Mike went out this morning. He usually goes out for a long time. You can write down your contact information and purpose here first. I think he will contact you if he needs it."

"Okay." Klein, who was not too unusual for this, took the pen from the booklet, moved his wrist slightly, and quickly wrote down his specific address and purpose.

After writing, he glanced roughly and looked above him, the message written by the previous visitor, and signed Sherlock Moriarty's name at the end.

Above the wet ink marks, Louis Evans' swash signature stands out.

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