Krafft's Notes on Anomalies

"Should we go down there and find the 'trigger'?"

"I don't think this place is suitable for everyone to go down together." Kraft took out the last two sample bottles. The harvest from this journey was far greater than before, and the various samples may refresh our knowledge in the near future.

"To be precise, it's not fit for any human being to go down there, but unfortunately there's nothing I can do here."

He did not avoid looking away like others, and stared at the movable sculptures that were constantly leaking black liquid for a while, patiently waiting for the reaction of these inexplicable things.

However, they didn't. They just moved slowly and periodically with a fixed rhythm. It seemed that they were not interested in the living creatures and light and heat nearby.

"I have an idea." Kraft tentatively threw the burned out torch into the pit, but still did not provoke any further reaction. "The rope should still be there, right?"

"What's the meaning?"

"Just in case, I need someone to pull me up if necessary." Kraft took the rope from Wading and tied a secure enough knot across his waist and shoulders.

The rope is very heavy and has a toughness that matches the weight. It is really hard for Wading to carry the things all the way here. It was originally prepared to fix the ship or climb over special terrain if necessary, but now it finally comes in handy.

"It is recommended that friends who are in a trance turn their backs. If necessary, I will pull the rope three times in a row and quickly as a signal, and then you use as much strength and speed as possible to pull me back."

He stretched the rope hard, making sure that even if he was torn into two pieces, the thing would not break into two pieces. The diameter was about the thickness of two thumbs put together, enough to tug-of-war with the carriage.

"See you later." The professor put down the package, threw the loop of rope back into Wadin's hand, handed the short end to the priest, and took the first step towards the hellish pit.

He opened his arms to maintain balance, and placed his feet, which did not bear any weight, on the relatively thick petrified limbs. The small branches that swung blindly scratched the surface of the boots, leaving white marks and a sound like rubbing sandpaper.

The center of gravity of the body slowly moved, crossing the edge and leaning forward until the second boot was lifted and stepped into it as well.

After a few long seconds of waiting, Green saw Kraft gesture behind him to indicate "everything is okay" and take the second step while holding the lantern horizontally.

Just one body away, the figure staggered, as if it suddenly crashed into a viscous, thick environment. The weight of the body and mind was shared by the buoyancy, becoming slow and light.

His hands subconsciously tightened the rope, and he almost felt that he would receive a signal in the next second, or that the other party had lost the ability to send signals.

But Kraft immediately regained his balance and took another step forward, seemingly adapting quickly to the change.

It doesn't feel like walking on its own initiative, but like fish being pushed by the tide to cruise to the place they are destined to reach in life. This is how it has always been and how it should be.

Thousands of slender palm fingers gather together knowingly and become the most attentive waiter. They always lay down the red carpet at the right place where the distinguished guests stay, forming a path that changes with the direction of travel.

The pain fades temporarily, the mind is clear and empty, and the environment in turn adapts to changes in one's own will.

Everything is perverse and comfortable, the road follows the footsteps, objective rules obey subjective will, and spirit determines matter.

It was an odd situation, but the freedom and lightness of the empty consciousness was comforting. He continued walking for a while, relaxed his arms, swayed naturally, and handed the lantern to his free hand.

As it goes deeper, the longer rope becomes heavier, pulling the upper body back slightly. The consciousness paid some attention and instructed both hands to lift it. The texture of the feedback was not clear, and the thick and long rope was as light as cotton.

After another step of descent, the black liquid gathered here. He stretched out his hands to support the soles of his feet and lifted himself up, away from the scaly rippled liquid surface.

The body seems not as light as before. The sluggishness hinders the conscious control of the limbs. It requires more attention to perform fine movements. It seems like waking up in the library after a long nap, and the activities are numb. Arms, and the weight pressing down on them is always there.

Among the spiral floors that are countless at a glance, there are tall bookshelves lined up row upon row, filled with spines of four colors. They are arranged in pairs facing each other, giving a strong sense of order.

His consciousness naturally took the handed book and opened it to read. The pages are densely packed with text with bizarrely detailed patterns, and the line of sight is like spilled ink, quickly spreading across the devouring words and seeping into the pages further down.

Brand-new knowledge flows in the consciousness, and the novel and wonderful features are unheard of. Some of them are superior to the mainstream views, and some simply point out new pathways from blind corners of thinking that have never been imagined, and connect content that has nothing to do with each other. Pointing at the surface makes the vision suddenly clear.

What I have learned in the past cannot even fill the prologue, and there are even countless omissions and errors. It is shamefully crude.

The first moment of enlightenment allowed him to identify the possible causes of several diseases whose pathogenic mechanisms were not known in the traditional sense, and then devised targeted treatment plans.

Consciousness is like a dehydrated person opening his thirsty lips to receive the information pouring down. However, they only stay briefly and pass through the mouth, only slightly moistening the tip of the tongue, and even this moisture is evaporating.

This left him at a loss. He raised his hands to look for holes, pressed his cheeks on both sides, covered his jaw, and tried to grasp the bulging esophagus. The texture is as rough as gravel, making the skin feel strange.

Kraft propped up his eyelids, which had closed at some point, and tried to observe his surroundings. The abrupt burning sensation on his cheeks prevented him from twisting his neck further.

The light of the lantern was far behind him, barely detectable. His multi-toed limbs surrounded him, and the petrified texture was close to his face.

A multi-jointed flexible arm stretched out from the darkness below and reached out to him, tightly holding his left hand. Slender fingers of varying lengths passed through the gaps between the fingers and wrapped around the back of his hand and wrist. The pale geometric fragments of foreign objects inlaid on the two arms shone brightly.

The stinging pain from the palm reminded him that something had pierced his skin, but the pain quickly disappeared from his consciousness.

[Trigger]

He "grasped" something, but it was not his palm, but an irregularly shaped hard object. His slender "fingers" reached into the gap, grasped the small depression on the surface, and tortuously penetrated into the object, becoming one with it.

The space narrowed sharply, but not the kind that cut off the spiritual senses. The body seemed to have returned to the embryonic state without memory. The amniotic cavity was flat and immobile. The thin amniotic fluid was not enough to cover the whole body. Some unformed tissues were immersed in it and developed.

The self was infinitely diluted, like ink dripping into a lake, spreading into the new body cognition - the space did not become smaller, but he became larger.

This connection must be disconnected immediately, but before disconnecting, there is one last thing to do.

Mobilizing all thinking abilities, temporarily intercepting a small section of information that had been seen from those knowledge that could not be retained, about how to quickly deposit and solidify a certain substance into a tough structure.

It can build the most basic support framework for advanced movements, and it can also transform these frameworks into sharp thorns from the inside out in ultra-limited use.

It only remained in the consciousness for a moment, but even a moment was enough.

[Calcium]

Around a theme, the consciousness weaved and mixed it with the "pacemaker", gently stirring the fluctuations that enveloped the thin "amniotic fluid".

At that moment, Kraft was sure that he was satisfied. He is a sculptor who uses a simple carving knife to complete the desired work.

Under the command of the effect exactly opposite to that of digitalis, the cells excrete a large amount of calcium ions, and the second command, through the mechanism that has slipped away from the mind, makes the secreted calcium deposit at a speed of tens of millions of times, and transforms into real stone before it has a chance to become bones - hydroxyapatite, calcium phosphate, calcium carbonate, calcium oxalate, all the damn things that cannot be easily reabsorbed.

Sand and gravel are generated in the interstitial and circulation of tissues, blocking blood vessels, blocking joints, and turning soft tissues into rough calcified lesions.

Unfortunately, the only person who can understand this work here has just died, and even if he is alive, he is unlikely to share this joy.

And the remaining ignorant people can only see the fleeting celestial light like an illusion on the ground.

Before they react, the sculpture has been completed, and the rope in their hands is pulled three times regularly.

The main line of this volume is basically completed here.

ε(*｀)з is really a long volume, and the rest is almost some post-processing, small extras, and then the introduction to the next chapter.

Due to various reasons, the author's mental state has fluctuated for a while. Thank you very much for your support and encouragement. I feel much better now. Maybe the next update will be better.

In addition, I still hope that dear readers can put forward their views on recent content, as well as opinions and suggestions. Your reading and comments are the greatest support for the author!

Finally, I recommend the book of group friends again: "Multiverse Survival Guide"! A rare anti-utopian suspense style. This is the book I look forward to most recently!

The work is set in a dystopian near-future background. The rendering of the numb, high-pressure, and indifferent environment is very distinctive. The boundary between reality and illusion is blurred. Reading it is like a strange experience of admiring the lead-gray postmodern paintings from a high position and being in it.

And the protagonist, a social animal trapped in a high-rise building, finds that this world begins to intersect and merge with a worse dog-blooded doomsday supernatural world, like a cup of sour wine with Nurgard soup, and a more abstract but at least fresh enough development appears.

The overall feeling of the work is like the texture of Fargo and Fight Club. Extreme numbness and indifference are brewing more extreme madness. Although the number of words is small, it is enough to make people look forward to it.

ps: If group friends have written books, they can ask me to recommend chapters, and the type of the series is preferred!

～(￣▽￣～)(～￣▽￣)～