Ordinary storage room, juxtaposed with two beds in size. On the wall there are calendars of beautiful models on the beach, in addition to brooms, mops, garbage shovels, flushing hoses, air fresheners, arranged in their respective places. There is a tin cabinet covered with the store's advertising paper, which contains several cleaners' suits, and a yellow magazine at the bottom.

I picked up the yellow magazine, which was a foreign publication that I had never seen before.

Before that, the largest magazine I've ever seen was a light portrait in the darkest corner of a small bookstore, with women in pretend poses bathing in swimsuits, heart-pounding and red-faced. But what is in front of you is bolder than those, more delicate, more attentive to the curves and secrets of the body.

I shoved the magazine into my armor.

Other than that, there is nothing special at first glance.

But the man in the hat came out of here, and he was not a place to live, and he was not a cleaner.

Structurally speaking, if there is any mechanism, it must be something that is inconvenient to move.

In other words, objects that can be easily moved at a glance, but are actually confined to a certain orbit.

I opened all the cabinets and fumbled for the bulges. Stomp on every piece of wooden floor. Move everything that looks like it can be removed to the other side.

When I tried to remove the calendar, I found that it was not hanging on the wall, but the back was glued to the wall.

I touched the calendar from top to bottom with my hand.

It was found that there was a slight bump sensation on the left chest of the beautiful model on the beach.

It's not that the calendar was originally made like this.

I turn the current page. The position with the bump is on the left eye of another model on the next page.

At first glance, the eye looks like a picture, but by changing the angle and using the light, you can see the non-paper luster.

Cat's eye-like lens.

I put my eyes together and saw the Goat Guild's Golden Ratio Demon logo floating across the lens of my left eye.

But just looking at it doesn't have any effect.

I pressed it tentatively.

A sense of embedding with a faint elasticity.

There was a slight motor sound from the window, and the room shook and began to move downward.

The speed gradually increases, and there is a slight feeling of weightlessness.

I see.

The storage room itself is an elevator to the hidden basement.

Taking advantage of the emptiness of the room, I rearranged my weapons, unloaded the magazines of the pistols I had collected, and threw away the empty guns, leaving only two pistols pinned to the most convenient position.

After about five seconds, the feeling of weightlessness quickly disappears, as if the floor is pressing against the surface of the foot.

Arrived.

I was about to open the red door when something grabbed me by the ankle.

The heart beats sharply.

But the brain doesn't generate the current of fear.

It's as if emotional and physical reactions have been separated.

The thing that grabbed me has more power than the average adult.

A hissing voice came from beneath him, and there was a sense of familiarity.

I turned my head and looked down, and the dead man in uniform writhed like a spasm, grabbing my ankle and pulling the shell up of my ankle-missing body. His features were distorted and bleeding, and his eerie smile seemed to freeze on his face, as if he could feel my gaze, and his mouth opened in mockery.

As if the jaw was dislocated, it opened wide and took a bite.

Even though I didn't suffer any real damage through my shoes, my heart was beating even more violently. I swung my legs to try to shake it off, but it clung to it, bit down on its shoe, and didn't let go in the slightest. I kicked it in the head with another kick, but even if the face was broken, it couldn't stop it.

Extraordinary strength, not afraid of pain, like an unconscious machine, persistent and monotonous. There is only one word that can describe the existence of this alien - The Walking Dead.

The last words of the hat man were at least a little right.

His flesh was resurrected.

This is the aftermath of taking the psychedelic drug "Paradise"?

Thinking of his obsession and ecstasy before his death, his mood calmed down, but he couldn't help but feel pity. What an ugly and pathetic gesture.

He said he saw the devil.

This is indeed a gift from the devil.

I pulled out my gun and shot it in the head, but it didn't have a noticeable effect, and even if I made a hole in the skull, the monster that had lost all its brains wouldn't stop moving.

I pulled out my dagger and held its head down, cutting off its neck completely.

The corpse that had lost its head finally calmed down, then turned to ashes and collapsed inward with a deflating sound. Then it turned into a swirling gray mist and flew into the palm of my hand.

I gazed at the gray stone in my palm and tucked it into my pocket.

With a pistol, push open the red door.

What catches your eye is a fairly spacious auditorium. The huge frescoes stretch from the four walls to the ceiling, and if you focus on the details, it is like a list of individual paintings, but when you see them all, you can strangely form a magnificent piece of this one.

It was the scene of the ancient people welcoming the end of the world.

Kneeling, weeping, fighting, dying.

A mutant human body, a charging knight, and a sheep-headed demon with a trident and wings on his back.

A clock made of eyes, a desert of a huge body, a head made of limbs.

Unparalleled shock and weirdness.

The idol is not a human or demon, but an object that looks like a cross and a swastika. The red carpet stretched from my feet to the pulpit. Rows of benches are arranged in a fan-like pattern, with crows on the head.

A boy who looked about my age, dressed in a priest's attire, led the crowd in prayer behind the pulpit. They prayed in a language I had never heard before, their heads bowing as if they were unaware of the intruders.

"Flesh and blood are like grass and trees, glory is like an epiphany, grass withers, flowers wither, but death is not the end, just as the truth endures forever."

The priest ended in a language I could understand, looking up at me.

I guess, I read that right.

It was the student named Luanzhong.

His unforgettable, hollow eyes, like a backwaterhole, exuded a strange and peaceful temperament against the backdrop of a black priest's suit.

It seemed that the whole air had become incredibly clear.

So clear that there was no fighting.

Clear without any impurities.

So clear that there was no life.

More pure than dead silence.

It is so pure that it seems to be able to completely dissolve everything in the world.

"Who are you? Visitors. Despite being pointed at gunpoint, he said in a very calm tone.

He wasn't afraid of me, rightfully so, this was his territory, and there were dozens of followers between me and him who were looking back at me.

All of them were men in hats in uniform, except that their hats rested on their thighs.

A hostile gaze seems to scorch the air.

In reply, I pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Loud gunfire echoed through the auditorium, and for a moment, the scorching air was in turmoil. The congregants rose to their feet, and some even reflexively threw themselves at the pulpit, but their priests did not need protection.

He didn't even tilt his head, and the bullet aimed at the center of his eyebrows grazed his face, taking away a few strands of hair, and hitting the metal idol with a crisp sound.

I didn't deliberately miss the shot and I didn't think it was a mistake.

I could see very clearly that the bullet suddenly slipped and went off course as it approached him.

It's a stroke of luck, not a single person here is afraid of ordinary pistol bullets.

I heard the hoarse voice of the murderer Takakawa.

"Just a hello."

The priest calmly raised his right hand.

Brush Brush Brush –

Dozens of black holes were aimed at me like a hornet's nest.

"Shoot."