novellaaa Chapter 250 The Abnormal Telegraph Office
Chapter 250 The Abnormal Telegraph Office
Chapter 250 The Abnormal Telegraph Office
Bansi Port, at the hotel where Sirion is staying.
Countless tiny starlight fragments flew out from the void, quickly reforming into a shimmering, illusory door in the room.
Then Cyril emerged from behind the "door".
After recording some of the extraordinary abilities of the "Dawn Knights" from Father Utravsky, he also recorded some teleportation and blink abilities from Verdu before rushing back to Bansi Port.
The wall lamp in the room was still on, and Randolph Carter was sitting by the window, intently depicting the storm scene outside on his easel.
Noticing the commotion of Cyril's teleportation, he said without looking up:
"This rainstorm is unusual; if you go out, you'd better not make too much noise."
"What did you find?" Sirion asked curiously.
Randolph Carter raised the easel in his hand, which depicted a life-size replica of the scene outside the window, except that the lightning streaking across the sky was blood red.
"Although I don't possess any extraordinary qualities, my inspiration remains, and I can still observe the reality of the world."
"Shortly after you and Erdfana left, just as the storm was about to break, I saw the entire sky was blood red. What was falling from the sky was not rain, but blood that smelled of gunpowder. It was silently nurturing the desires and emotions in people's hearts."
"To foster emotions and desires?"
Sirion frowned slightly, flipping a gold coin in his hand.
A few seconds later, the gold coin in his hand was flicked out with a clang, rolled a few times, and landed back in his palm.
Face up indicates approval!
"Tonight is a good time to investigate the pollution seeping from the 'City of Calamity'."
He paused, then looked out the window at the thick, dark clouds where flashes of lightning occasionally streaked across the sky.
"This incident may have been caused by those believers who performed blood sacrifices that I killed before."
"Although the previous events appeared to have been suppressed on the surface, the Punishers must have already secretly begun their operations, and the bloody rituals performed by the cultists on the island will inevitably be affected."
"And the 'Weather God,' whose whereabouts are unknown, for some reason did not want the bloody ritual to be interrupted, so he chose to use this torrential rain to subtly influence everyone on the island."
"The fact that things have developed to this point so quickly is probably inseparable from Adam's behind-the-scenes efforts."
Randolph Carter glanced at him without any expression on his face and said in a flat tone:
"So you're saying I should take advantage of the fact that Bansi Port still exists, do my best to play the role, and digest as much of the potion as possible, while you investigate this matter and fulfill Adam's request?"
"That's me for you." Sirion gave him a thumbs up.
Randolph Carter curled his lip in disdain: "Ha, it's just self-destruction."
Cyril smiled and didn't try to argue, after all, he didn't need to be polite to himself.
He then walked to the window and pressed his hand against the windowpane, which was rattling in the wind.
A series of dark blue ripples spread from his hand, and the original window suddenly turned into a dark blue, intangible, blurry door.
Every now and then, a flash of silvery electric light illuminated the entire port of Bansi, and Sirion's figure flickered rapidly in the reflections of the puddles on the ground, in the windows of the houses along the street, and in the mirrors inside the houses.
In half a minute, he arrived in the mirror world behind the glass window of the telegraph office.
Upon arriving in this deep and illusory mirror world, he felt an inexplicable sense of crisis, as if danger was brewing around him.
A thunderous roar suddenly sounded, followed by a series of silvery lightning bolts streaking across the sky.
The silvery light was so dazzling that even Cyril, who was in the mirror world, felt it was a bit too bright and subconsciously squinted.
After a while, he suddenly saw a bloodied face that had been gnawed on in front of him.
Below the face was no body, only a spine still dripping blood.
It hovered quietly in mid-air, right in front of him.
To be precise, they were suspended in front of the window glass outside this mirror world, and the two did not meet directly.
But for some reason, Cyril felt that this mirror world could not block him, and it seemed to be watching him, curiously observing and pondering.
The stalemate continued until the light from the lightning disappeared and darkness returned. Suddenly, he heard Melanie's voice:
"Oh, it's you, Mr. Painter. Paavo has fixed the telegraph machine. Are you here to send a telegram?"
The voice was familiar and gentle, but the image of the bloodied, mangled face that had just been bitten flashed into Cyril's mind.
In the darkness beyond the mirror world, Melanie's voice rang out once more:
"Sir, are you here to send a telegram?"
After a moment's hesitation, Cyril replied, "Yes, I still want to try my luck."
"Are you still on duty so late? Where's Pavo?"
After a brief silence, Paavo's voice echoed from the darkness outside the mirror world:
"I'm here. The telegraph machine is ready. What do you want to send? I'll help you."
His voice came in segments, each time from a different location, as if several of him were taking turns speaking.
As Cyril gazed into the darkness beyond the mirror world, a phantom book, slowly turning its pages, appeared in his eyes.
"Won't this terrible weather affect telegraph signals?"
Paavo's voice rang out again: "I wonder, are you still sending telegrams?"
Cyril held a gold coin in his hand, pondered for a moment, and replied:
Give it a try.
"it is good."
Paavo's reply came along with the ticking of the telegraph machine, even though he didn't say what he wanted to send the telegram to or who it was for.
Amid the ticking of the telegraph machine, Sirion suddenly rubbed his fingers together, creating a bright but not dazzling beam of light.
Suddenly, a faint light burst forth from the dimly lit windowpane, dispelling the darkness within the telegraph office. The face, gnawed and bloodied, with its severed spine attached, hovered silently in front of the glass. Scattered body parts lay on the ground, male and female, mixed together, making it impossible to distinguish which part belonged to which.
On the table where the telegraph machine was placed, a hand, missing a finger and severed from the wrist, was tapping away at the machine.
Seemingly provoked by his gaze, the blood mixed with shadow on the floor began to boil and surge, growing illusory hands and feet that pounced on the glass and reached into the mirrored world behind it.
Startled by this scene, Cyril retreated repeatedly.
Only then did he notice that the mirror world he was in had been covered with a mottled, rusty red layer.
He could no longer sense the "doors" leading to other mirror worlds.
...I didn't even realize it just now. Was my spirituality and inspiration also affected?
Moreover, it was only a few words just now, but I couldn't help but test the waters.
Have I been affected since I arrived here?
As his thoughts drifted, the slowly turning pages of the illusory book reflected in his eyes suddenly sped up.
"I came, I saw, I recorded."
After a brief chant, a sacred, bright, and pure warm light descended from the sky and fell upon him, bringing warmth and dispelling some of the negative and extreme emotions that had been lingering in his heart.
The next second, he felt a weight on his hands, feet, and shoulders.
The blood and shadows that poured in from outside the glass window quietly clung to him.
Even as they were constantly scorched and evaporated by the holy light of the solar domain, they did not retreat at all. Instead, they surged towards him even more frantically, as if they would not stop until they squeezed him into blood and foam.
"uh-huh.."
The heavy pressure emanating from his body made it hard for him to breathe, and he could only let out low groans through his nose.
Cyril gritted his teeth, and the illusory book reflected in his eyes flipped through the pages even faster.
The next second, golden, illusory flames suddenly ignited all around, dense and continuous, filling almost half of the mirror world.
As these flames, radiating the powerful aura of the sun, burned fiercely, Cyril's figure quietly melted into the golden flames.
On the other side of the golden sea of fire, a spark suddenly expanded, and then Cyril leaped out from it.
After using "Flame Leap" to escape the eerie, mixed mass of blood and shadows, the illusory book in Cyril's eyes turned the pages once more: "I came, I saw, I recorded."
He was immediately enveloped in a pale golden light, which then rippled outwards like water.
Where the light passed, the golden flames burned even more fiercely, while the eerie, mingled blood and shadows withered.
Just as he was about to press his advantage, his spiritual intuition suddenly gave him a warning.
The next second, a golden, illusory flame beside him suddenly surged and engulfed his figure.
Boom!
A dull, illusory thud came from outside the mirror world, causing the entire mirror world to shake noticeably.
Then a series of cracking sounds rang out, and countless spiderweb-like cracks appeared in the mirror world.
This mirror world is about to shatter.
A golden flame suddenly expanded, and the figure of Sirion emerged from it.
Looking around him and at the countless illusory cracks covering his body, he suddenly felt a toothache.