parentshiftbook Chapter 659 Speculation and Research
Chapter 659 Speculation and Research
The kerosene lamps were lit again in the eerie space where the men in black robes had gathered before.
But unlike before, there are only two this time.
The dim, yellowish flames danced within the glass dome, casting a much smaller circle of light than usual, plunging most of the area into thick darkness. Two figures in black robes, one tall and one short, stood facing each other in the lamplight.
Because both sides were very familiar with each other, neither wore a hood, and their faces were illuminated by flickering light in the firelight.
"Confirmed." The tall man spoke, his voice lower than usual, carrying a barely perceptible suppressed anger. "The one on the sea is the Shadow Thief and the Gap Man."
The shorter man's eyelid twitched.
He had been mentally prepared when he sensed that terrifying power, but hearing it confirmed with his own ears still made him catch his breath. "The power generated by the fusion of those two strange entities far exceeded expectations," the tall man continued, speaking slowly but each word sounding as if it had been bitten before being uttered. "I thought it was just an ordinary disaster-level event, but I didn't expect it to be a natural disaster-level event... a true natural disaster-level event."
"We don't have any deployments at that level," the short man said.
"We had nothing at our level," the tall man corrected him. "Those were our two most valuable monsters. Now they're gone. No, they were 'stolen' by someone else!"
Both of them fell silent.
After all, that was a cataclysmic event, and it had been in their hands before.
In general, among common combat forces, calamity-level shamans are already at the absolute top level, and calamity-level shamans rarely take action on a daily basis.
It's not just because the cost of each strike is severe, but also because the destructive power is extremely high once it's launched.
It is no exaggeration to say that catastrophic psychics are the cornerstone of a city's existence.
If their organization truly possesses a calamity-level anomaly, even the Psychic Association would recognize their legitimacy and might even be willing to assist them in establishing a nation!
And now, this opportunity has slipped through their fingers!
The flame of the kerosene lamp flickered, and the shadows of the two people swayed on the wall.
"This incident has exposed two problems."
The tall man calmed himself down, raised two fingers, and the firelight danced on his fingertips.
"First, the fusion eruption occurred at sea, not on land, and not in any of the possible locations we anticipated. This indicates that the other side anticipated it and began preparing after the Shadow Thief was stolen, possibly even setting up the battlefield in advance, waiting for the Gap Man to walk right into their trap." The short man's brows furrowed even more.
"Secondly, after the cataclysmic power erupted, the fused entity disappeared without causing any damage. To date, the Spirit Master Association has not detected any strange secondary spread… What does this mean?"
"That means it's been sealed away," the short man said in a low voice, his tone unusually certain. "Or it's been subdued. After that level of power erupted, to be able to do this couldn't have been a spur-of-the-moment decision."
"So this whole thing, from the moment the Shadow Thief was captured, wasn't a coincidence, it was premeditated!" The tall man clenched his fist.
The two people looked at each other.
They both saw the same thought in each other's eyes: a mole.
Someone leaked their most crucial secret to a third party.
The location of the Shadow Thief, the characteristics of the Crevice Man, and even the relationship between the two bizarre twin beings were all revealed by that person.
Otherwise, it would be impossible for someone to complete the entire process from capture to fusion to sealing in such a short time.
"So this time it's just the two of us meeting." The short man glanced around at the empty darkness. "From today onwards, all offline communication is suspended. No one else's information is trustworthy except between you and me."
The tall man nodded without saying anything more.
His expression appeared even more gloomy in the firelight.
"How long will your life force reserves last?" the short man asked.
The tall man's face grew even uglier.
He did not answer immediately, but instead took out a palm-sized stone slab from the inside of his black robe.
The stone slab was covered with densely packed runes, and a dark red crystal the size of a thumb was inlaid in the center.
Inside the crystal, there was a liquid-like luster that was slowly flowing, but the liquid level had already dropped to one-third of its maximum.
"Less than a month," he said. "At the current rate of consumption, it can only last for three weeks at most."
The short man's lips were pressed into a thin line.
"We have no choice but to activate the backup plan." The tall man's voice was as calm as if he were talking about what to have for dinner, but there was no warmth in his deep-set eyes.
Upon hearing this, the short man stiffened slightly.
He raised his head and stared straight at the tall man's face, as if to confirm whether he was joking.
"Are you sure?" His voice was low. "The technology isn't finished yet, is it? I saw last month's report; the stability is still lacking. The gap between individual human will and the supernatural is too great. Even with multiple layers of protection, the host will eventually lose control. What's the latest progress on your end?"
The tall man did not avoid his gaze.
He pulled out a black leather notebook from inside his black robe. There was no writing on the cover, but the edges were worn white.
He turned to one of the pages, and the firelight illuminated the densely packed handwritten characters clearly.
Formulas, data, experimental records, analyses of failures… every page was filled with relevant information, and some places even had supplementary notes pasted on them. “The technology isn’t finished yet,” the tall man admitted, “but we don’t have much time. The Psychic Association has already started requesting support. My inside information is that they’ve asked headquarters for help, and headquarters has already approved it.”
The shorter man's pupils contracted slightly, and he had a bad feeling.
"Who should we send?" he asked.
The tall man closed the notebook and put it back inside his black robe.
He raised his head, looked at the short man, his lips moved, and he uttered a single word.
"A...prophet."
The short man's face turned deathly pale in that instant.
A prophet.
That's not a nickname, but the official name given by the Psychic Association headquarters to psychics who possess strange, fate-related abilities.
The fate-related mysteries in this plane are extremely rare, and those who can tame and seal them are even rarer.
But everyone who is called a "prophet" has an almost terrifying ability to foresee the future.
This isn't some mystical wizard from fairy tales, but a legitimate, clearly articulated, verifiable "futuristic vision." "Wait until that person arrives," the tall man's voice lowered, "and I'm about to be exposed."
Neither of them doubted the prophet's ability.
As a senior researcher within the association, the tall man's fate is inextricably linked to the association.
Any examination that is unfavorable to him will cause fluctuations in the realm of fate, and it is only a matter of time before the prophet catches it.
"Before that," the tall man raised his head, a hint of madness in his eyes, "we must launch the final plan. At all costs."
The short man remained silent for a long time.
Finally, he nodded and turned to leave.
His figure vanished into the darkness the moment he stepped out of the kerosene lamp's glow, like a drop of water falling into an inkwell, leaving no trace. Only the tall man remained, standing between the two kerosene lamps.
However, he did not leave the space immediately.
His body remained still for a few seconds, and then the entire space beneath his feet folded up.
The light from the two kerosene lamps seemed to have been kneaded together by an invisible hand, the light becoming distorted.
When they unfolded again, the tall man was no longer in the empty hall.
The surrounding environment looks like a research lab.
The space was small, about fifty or sixty square meters. The walls and ceiling were made of grayish-white metal panels, covered with densely packed sealing runes. In the center of the floor was a circular magic circle about three meters in diameter. The lines of the magic circle appeared to be drawn with some kind of luminescent liquid. That liquid emitted a pale blue glow in the darkness, illuminating the entire magic circle like a moon lying on the ground.
In the center of the magic circle stood a monster.
It was about the same size as the previous shark monster, but its shape was completely different.
It is an entity composed of various bizarre fragments, without a fixed form.
Its "body" is constantly changing. One second it looks like a huge, hairless dog, the next second it becomes a twisted, multi-limbed insect-like creature, and the next second it collapses into a wriggling mass of flesh covered with eyes.
Each of its changes was accompanied by a sound like bones cracking, a dense and continuous sound, as if ten thousand pieces of dry firewood were exploding simultaneously in the same fire.
The tall man stood at the edge of the magic circle, staring at it expressionlessly.
The blue light of the sealing array extended beneath his feet, connecting with the central array to form a closed energy loop.
He found the control node in the loop, swiped his finger a few times in the air, and brought up the monster's real-time monitoring data.
Stability: 17%.
Will synchronization rate: 8%.
Risk level of loss of control: extremely high.
Estimated remaining survival time: less than 2 hours.
He frowned slightly, his finger tracing a line in the air, bringing up a more detailed analysis report.
The report indicates that this bizarrely integrated core structure is showing signs of irreversible collapse.
After an initial period of dominance, the human host's will rapidly declines and is devoured by a bizarre collective consciousness.
The host is not even aware that it is losing itself; it just thinks in a way that is becoming increasingly bizarre.
When his way of thinking completely changes, the eerie will completely take over his body.
Then, once the balance between the two is broken, the body will quickly collapse.
Because the eerie nature of the supernatural requires human intelligence as its foundation, once the host's will is no longer restrained, the different eerie fragments that have been forcibly pieced together will repel and attack each other, eventually tearing the entire body apart from the inside.
The tall man stared at the fluctuating data without any change in expression.
Suddenly, the monster let out a miserable howl in the center of the magic circle.
It was a sound wave that was a mixture of a dozen different frequencies, meaningless, and purely driven by pain.
The sound waves struck the metal wall and were absorbed by the sealing runes.
Even though most of the sound waves were attenuated, the remaining sound waves still caused visible vibrations in the air inside the research room.
The tall man, expressionless, manipulated his magic circle and began further experiments on it.
An hour and a half passed quickly, and the monster's corpse began to rot.
The skin was dry, cracked, and peeling off, revealing the bloodless, grayish-white muscle underneath.
Within seconds, the muscle loses its elasticity and turns into a mass of loose, fibrous material.
Then the bones began to break, snapping off one by one like withered branches.
The whole process lasted half an hour.
The fusion monster, created with countless resources and painstaking effort, completely collapsed amidst endless suffering.
The tall man watched all this with a calm expression.
He walked to the corner and pressed a red button hidden behind a metal plate.
The light from the magic circle immediately changed from blue to blazing white, and the temperature soared to thousands of degrees in an instant, evaporating the rotting flesh and broken bones, along with a layer of metal on the surface of the magic circle, into gas.
The ventilation system automatically starts, drawing the toxic gases into the underground purification device.
The sealing array also began to function, resealing the strange power that was trying to dissipate.
A moment later, the magic circle returned to its blue light. The research room was spotless, as if nothing had ever existed there.
The tall man stretched out his hand, made a few gestures in the air, brought up the log of the destruction program, confirmed that all hazardous substances had been disposed of, and then closed the control panel.
He sighed.
It was a pity that another batch of valuable experimental materials had been used up without the expected results.
"We're running out of test subjects again," he muttered to himself, his voice echoing in the empty research room. "I'll have to find some more." He took off his black robe and hung it on a hook in the corner.
The outfit beneath the black robe was simple: dark gray suit trousers, a shirt, and the cuffs were buttoned up meticulously.
He took a pair of silver-rimmed glasses out of his pocket and put them on.
With his prominent cheekbones framed by glasses, his face surprisingly exuded a scholarly and refined air.
He closed his eyes, and a thought flashed through his mind.
The space beneath his feet folded up again.
When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in a bright and cozy lounge.
The walls are a warm beige, there are soft ceiling lights, and a potted plant sits on the coffee table in the corner.
A full-length mirror leans against the wall, its frame made of wood and very clean.
He stood in front of the mirror, looking at himself.
Vidor Rein
Special lecturer of the Psychic Association, and speaker of public lectures on common sense about protecting against the supernatural.
Invited advisor to the Fog City Psychic Association, a senior expert in the field of paranormal research.
In public, he was a gentle, knowledgeable, and kind person who cared about the safety of ordinary people.
His lecture tickets always sell out quickly, his books are prominently displayed in bookstores, and his name has a good reputation within the association: pragmatic, efficient, and never shirking responsibility.
The face in the mirror was smiling and looked quite gentle, inspiring immediate trust—completely different from the coldness of the eerie space earlier.
Victor straightened his collar in front of the mirror, then turned and pushed open the door to the lounge.
The corridor outside the door was long, with a wall lamp every few meters on both sides, casting a soft and even light that illuminated the corridor without a single shadow. The floor was covered with light gray non-slip tiles, so clean they reflected the light.
The air was filled with a faint smell of disinfectant, mixed with the scent of some kind of floral air freshener.
At the end of the corridor was a double glass door with the words "Foggy City Mental Hospital Treatment Center" affixed in metal lettering.
A young woman dressed as a nurse walked briskly from the other end of the corridor, carrying a folder in her hand.
Upon seeing Victor, she gave a slight bow with a perfectly appropriate smile on her face.
"Professor, thank you for your hard work." The nurse's voice was crisp and polite. "We have a few new patients today. Their records are here; please take a look." "Thank you for your help."
After giving a casual thank you, Victor took the folder and opened it.
His fingers were long and slender, and he turned the pages very lightly and slowly, as if he were reading a precious ancient book.
The first page features a middle-aged man, an alcoholic with violent tendencies, who was brought in by his family.
On the second page, a young woman experiences auditory hallucinations, claiming she can hear voices speaking from inside the walls. After the psychic association confirmed it wasn't a supernatural phenomenon, they sent her over.
On the third page, there is an elderly man with dementia who doesn't know his way around and has gotten lost many times.
Page 4...
Victor's fingers paused for a moment.
The photo shows a face with sharp features, gray hair that is neatly trimmed, and small but bright eyes.
Even in medical photos, which are the easiest way to make someone look bad, there was still a resolute light in his eyes.
"And this is...?" Victor asked in a casual tone.
The nurse leaned over for a glance and immediately replied, "Oh, this is a retired member of the Psychic Association. His surname is Collins. He worked in the association for over twenty years as a field operative and just retired last year. Due to excessive exposure to the supernatural, he developed some mental issues... mainly insomnia and intermittent confusion. However, he has a very strong will, so it doesn't seem to be a major problem for now."
"Retired members of the Psychic Association," Vido repeated, his tone carrying just the right amount of respect. "They've dedicated over twenty years to this city; it hasn't been easy."
"Yes," the nurse agreed.
Victor closed the folder, held it to his chest, raised his head, and a gentle smile appeared on his face.
"Then let's examine him first." His voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear and steady, carrying a reassuring power. "Such a hero deserves our utmost efforts to save him."
"Understood, I'll arrange it right away."
The nurse bowed slightly and turned to make the arrangements.
Victor stood there, watching the nurse's figure disappear at the end of the corridor.
The gentle smile remained on his lips, but the eyes behind his glasses had changed.
"Luckily, we found a good material so quickly."
Retired members of the Psychic Association.
More than 20 years of field work experience.
Strong willpower.
The mental health issues are not serious.
These are all advantages.
His strong will means he can withstand longer periods of bizarre fusion and won't collapse on the first encounter like ordinary people. Over twenty years of field experience means his body and mind have undergone rigorous training, making him far more adaptable than the average person.
The fact that his "mental problems are not serious" means that although his self-awareness is intact, it has been partially eroded by something strange.
This is actually a good thing, because according to past experimental records, an overly complete self will reduce the vigilance of the merger, and will be more easily devoured by the eerie thing during the fusion process.
Moreover, even if a person with a strong will eventually loses control after merging with the supernatural, the experimental data they can provide in the period before losing control is more than that of ten ordinary people combined.
As for how much pain he will endure...
That's not a problem.
"These... are all necessary sacrifices for human evolution!"
Victor pushed up his silver-rimmed glasses and strode toward the consultation room.
(Something came up, so this is the only chapter for today.)