It was a nightmare, the man was squatting on the ground, holding his head, pulling at his clothes with more and more force, and the human voice was getting more and more irritating, sounding like a monster making vicious noises around him. His mind that had been spinning rapidly seemed to have suddenly derailed, and although he wanted to understand what the situation was now, he couldn't sort it out anyway, and he was already a doomsday syndrome patient. No, he was a potential doomsday syndrome sufferer, and everyone here was a potential doomsday syndrome sufferer, and his companion had said this to him before, and he agreed with this sentence very much. But it shouldn't be like this, it shouldn't be in this way, at this time...... Busakuo was pulled down by a sudden tremendous force, and when he fell to the ground, he saw the person who had pulled him—he thought it was a companion at first, but when he saw the appearance of the other person, he was completely unable to connect with the impression of the other person in his mind.

It couldn't be said that it was not human at all, but what he saw was only a vague outline of a human form, which made him wonder if there was something wrong with his eyes.

He didn't think that he should have been surprised by all this that he had seen, and what had suddenly happened to him, because, if I had to say the signs, I might not have turned a corner at the time, but now that I look back, even if my mind is blank, I can feel it somewhat. However, he just didn't want to admit it, he didn't want to understand what was happening to him. He felt terrified, and behind all this he had rejected was a great horror that he could experience without thinking. It's like if you think about it a little deeper, you will only see the painful and desperate facts.

It is precisely because of the painful and desperate fact that I am unwilling to face it squarely-I am not aware of my problem. He is not stupid, and once something happens, he can always find clues that connect cause and effect.

"Don't touch me!" He shook his arm vigorously and pushed away the vague human figures around him. He felt that they were really human beings, but he couldn't see them as humans. He suddenly had the wishful thinking that he was really infected with doomsday syndrome that caused these hallucinations. Instead of everyone else becoming doomsday syndrome sufferers, it's normal to be the only one left.

He pushed these people down, and felt the power of the stalemate, which was indeed the power of humanity. The strength of these people tugged and tried to tie him up, but he didn't want to be like that, he struggled desperately, rushed into these vague figures, and was hugged by the fallen figures. He swung his fist hard and slammed it into these figures, several of them being knocked backwards, but more of them swarmed up and grabbed both of his arms. He tried to be ruthless several times, he was a killer, he was proficient in killing with his bare hands, but every time he tried to use those deadly movements, there was a sad urge that prevented him from actually using them on these figures.

What he said, no one listened, he knew it was inevitable. He howled suddenly, like a beast in a trap. He couldn't hear what the figures were saying, and he couldn't be sure that the malice he felt from them was the real malice. He didn't know that he had really killed everyone here — he thought he could do it — but what could he do after that?

He didn't want to be restrained, but he really couldn't tell if it was really good to continue struggling. Is the current crisis caused by oneself, others, or ...... Suddenly, he saw Gao Chuan's diary that was thrown to the ground, and extreme anger suddenly surged into his heart, he couldn't think about anything more, but he felt that this diary written by Gao Chuan was the culprit who made things like this. He wanted to tear up the book, he remembered where he had gotten it, and he thought of the monster he saw in the Tower, which was supposed to be Dr. Ender. He felt like he suddenly understood why Dr. Ender had become the way he was. Then he also thought about why the book was still on him.

When entering the new base, all the foreign items they were carrying were checked and confiscated, but the book, oh, and those cards, were somehow still on their own. He thought it was an omission during the inspection, or maybe he was allowed to carry it after passing the inspection, but this self-righteous idea, perhaps mixed with some selfishness, made him not clearly tell others that he was holding Takakawa's diary and cards.

"I shouldn't have taken it back, I shouldn't have taken it back...... "Busafu muttered to himself, and he didn't know what the others would think when they heard it. Perhaps, just as he heard the vicious voices of these figures, his own muttering seemed like a vicious curse to the ears of these humanoids who were obviously companions?

When he was quiet for a while, and when he stopped struggling, he was quickly pressed to the ground by the human figures around him, and cut it with his backhand, he was a little out of strength, even if he was a killer, when he was not a killer, he couldn't rely purely on physical strength to defeat the crowd that swarmed up. He felt helpless, his heart was full of grief and indignation, and he had a premonition of his fate. He didn't want to blame anyone, and he didn't want to blame himself, because it wasn't some machia, but just "sick". Neither I nor anyone else is "sick". Moreover, this disease is not preventable, and it is a terminal disease that has not progressed for a long time.

No survivor understands the horrors of the virus and doomsday syndrome better than today's survivors. There is simply no point in putting the blame on anyone. He just felt that if there was no "Takakawa Diary", maybe all this would still happen, but only after a longer period of time, the situation would not become so sudden, and there would definitely be a period of relaxation.

But now, it was that book that gave him no chance. What's more, he can imagine that once others take away Takakawa's diary, they will definitely end up in the same fate as himself.

"No, no, it can't be like this...... We haven't done anything yet, we're just getting started......" When Buzuofu was dragged up by the human figure next to him, he muttered that he didn't know if the human figure next to him heard clearly, and he wasn't sure if the other party didn't hear it, whether it was the other party's problem or his own problem. He had only one thought at this time: he must not let anyone else see the Gao Chuan diary.

Now, Takakawa Diary fell to the ground a meter away from him. The husband's gaze wandered, as if the figures around him were frightened by his horrific gaze. The power that grabbed him loosened, and at this moment, Busakuo broke free from their suppression again and pounced on the Takagawa diary on the ground. While his body was still in the air, he felt the force of pulling backwards, and he felt more hands than he had seen of the human form, wrapped around his waist and legs like seaweed, like the hands of the demons of hell, trying to pull him into hell. The frightening and grotesque atmosphere has never faded.

Buzuofu fell to the ground, he desperately stretched out his hand, and the touch of Gao Chuan's diary cover came from his fingertips. Buzuo suddenly understood, why this touch is so unique, the cover of Takakawa's diary is not a normal material, at this time, in retrospect, it is clearly the feeling of human skin - maybe an illusion, maybe a prejudice based on fantasy, but, Buzuo feels more and more that this Takakawa diary is like a curse made by the devil who plucked off the human skin.

Even so, he struggled to dislocate his arm, allowing his arm to reach forward and grasp the book he saw as the culprit. He hadn't figured out what to do with it, and he didn't seem to have a chance to deal with it at this time, but preventing others from getting it was the strongest thought in his heart. Once the others also open the book, then the self at this time, and the monsters in the tower, will be the fate of the others.

If I had known, I would have burned the book in one fell swoop - I can't help but think of it when Busakuo is weighed down by a heavier body and can't stretch his arms and limbs.

He clutched the book. No matter how viciously the other figures tried to pry his fingers open, he never let go. If he could, he would even like to keep the book locked up like this. However, it was only a futile fantasy, and a sharp pain came from his forearm, and his eyes widened to see one of the figures holding a knife to his arm, as if to cut off his entire forearm.

"No, no, no!" He yelled, not for his own pain, but for the irretrievable future, "Don't read this book, don't read this book!" He struggled to organize his thoughts, which had become chaotic with fear, madness, despair, and pain, trying to put into words why he was the way he was and what the curse of Takakawa's diary was. However, the grief in his heart could not be conveyed to these figures, and he was not even sure if these figures could really understand what he was saying.

At this time, all the things that these figures did made the husband feel the viciousness and madness of the cold all over his body, as if he was not infected with doomsday syndrome, but in fact these people went crazy. The new base, which was originally in order, was in his feelings, showing an atmosphere of no thinking, as if he had been manipulated by some impulse, indulging his inner malice.

He was so dizzy that he almost fainted from the blow to the head with a few blows to the head, and the pain in his arm brought him to his senses, but he could only grasp the book with all his strength in vain. The figure who tried to cut his forearm with a knife seemed to be stumped by his stubbornness, and angrily threw away the knife in his hand and walked out of his sight.

These figures are all clamoring, and the husband has completely lost understanding what they are saying. Then a shrill chainsaw sound interrupted the sounds, and the atmosphere that had been quiet for a moment accentuated the high-pitched, heart-chilling hum. If you don't know it, you will have to endure the cruelty you have never suffered before. He had nothing to do, and he could even imagine the scene where these people finally took the Takakawa diary from his severed arm.

Even so, he couldn't let go of his hand like this, even though he knew very well that as long as he let go of his hand and gave up the struggle, he wouldn't have his arm sawn off.

I never felt that I was a self-sacrificing person. He remembered very well how many people he had killed in the past, and those dead people made him feel that his essence was ruthless and cold-blooded, and that it was the organization that had cultivated him like this, and even so, he never felt that there was anything wrong with it. He never thought that he would be impulsive and moved, and that he would try to do something to grasp some kind of slim "hope" one day.

However, that strange emotion, in the screeching sound of the chainsaw, seemed to break through some kind of barrier, and kept pouring into his heart, making him just cinch the Gao Chuan diary. Listen to the distorted human forms around you speaking inhuman words, feel the desperate chainsaw fall from the height, and then there is a pain of shattering and cutting of skin and bones.

Buzuo saw his broken arm jump up, and blood was scattered in the air. The pain of his heart and the emotions that were more turbulent than the pain, and the fear that was greater than the surging emotions, made him wail like a beast. He had never regretted it so much at this moment, he regretted why he had gone to the Tower to find Dr. Ender, what he felt had to do had now become a bitter irony.

Blood spurted all over the ground, and Buzuofu almost fainted, but he was just exhausted. How intense the pain is is no longer the most important feeling. He saw it, and the humanoid threw away the chainsaw and picked up the severed arm. The figure looked at Takakawa's diary, which was still clenched tightly by the broken arm, as if to figure out what it was, and then, when the figure tried to take out Takakawa's diary, it took a lot of effort, but it couldn't break the fingers of the broken arm.

Bu Zuofu laughed, he knew how neurotic his laughter was, and when he saw the figure gritting his teeth and fiddling with his broken arm, he felt a sense of helplessness that "he had done his best", and this helplessness somewhat relieved the pain in his heart. He's struggled, and now, he doesn't want to struggle anymore. Thinking like this, the strength that supported his spine suddenly dissipated, making his whole body soft and sticking to the ground - a large amount of blood flowed from the wound of the broken arm, making him chills all over, confused, and even his nerves seemed to be paralyzed, and the pain became less and less.

"Don't open that book...... "I don't know who I'm talking to." But the only remaining consciousness he knew that surely no one would listen to him. If you had changed those people to yourself and had never come into contact with Takakawa's diary, you would never have thought about how weird this book was. Is this the end of yourself? Is...... Nothing was done. Thinking so, his consciousness gradually fell into darkness.