One painting after another was cut and torn to pieces by the daggers, but George could clearly see the look on the faces of these children as they were completely dead.

Maybe there really is a soul in the world.

After their deaths, their souls are housed in their own skins by strange things, and every moment they feel the severe pain of repeatedly pulling out flesh and bones.

George wielded his short knife, his arm trembling slightly.

He saw that the artillery fire in the west was even stronger, and it seemed that he wanted to completely annihilate the desperate believers from the material base.

But they won't succeed.

George knew that the military couldn't kill the alien.

It...... It's too strong.

And he always felt that there seemed to be something evil hidden behind the appearance of this alien being, and it was precisely because of the existence of this thing that desperate believers existed.

Each painted skin was once a child.

George could endure hundreds of dead bodies in stagnant water, as well as molten husks in the flesh and blood of desperate believers.

But in the end, it is difficult to accept these evil things, and stretches out their claws to the child.

Every time a painting skin was torn, dozens or hundreds of deceitful sons were killed, and a deeper and lower emotion was transmitted from the death of the deceitful son to George's thoughts.

These emotions affected him and made him a little reluctant to continue.

He always felt that if he killed all the paintings, he might touch on a reality that he didn't want to accept.

It seems that some human emotions and consciousness have been retained, and the rest of the painting skin begins to flee backwards.

They had a great panic in front of them, the man in front of them, who was a murderer.

George stretched out his foot and crushed the last of the deceitful sons, and fled with his head raised as he looked at the painting skin, which was not moving fast.

He raised his dagger.

Fixed.

After a moment, he put the dagger down again.

The hood of the raincoat fell, and George covered himself, and then leaned against the shadow of the wall, and he began to follow the remaining dozen or so painted skins.

These weird little things still retain some of the characteristics of human children.

For example, language.

For example, emotions that are not very obvious anymore.

Now they run away in fear, and they will most likely run towards the house crying like a little boy who has lost a fight with other children outside.

Running towards home......

Home.

Where would the home of Painted Skin be?

George's muscles tightened.

His body has explosive power, but countless children of deceit affect his mind in a strange and incomprehensible way.

Some vague, meaningless memories were already beginning to appear in his mind.

These memories are fleeting, as if buried in the depths of time, and as if separated from George by the abyss.

The corners of his eyes drooped, and in fact his whole body senses were completely opened, and he was vigilantly observing his surroundings, closely following behind the painted skins that were always floating at the height of two floors.

Their empty skins swayed in the wind, and their limbs swayed as if they were struggling in pain.

These children probably experienced extreme pain before they died......

The painters walked around the neighborhood about three or four times, as if looking for a place to get out.

Finally, they stop in the center.

Wind poured into them along the cracks, making them look bulging.

The next scene made George creepy.

The corpses, which were too dead to die, sat up abruptly in a flurry of chaotic whispers from the sons of deceit.

The corpses looked directly ahead of them in confusion.

And then, all of a sudden.

All eyes are on George!

"Grass!"

"Scare Lao Tzu!"

George's heart seemed to stop beating a beat.

He cursed under his breath, using it as a way to distract himself from his horror.

It's the clinic.

Hoggs Clinic.

One by one, the painters lifted the curtain and entered the clinic.

George stood still for about a minute, and only then did he follow after dozens of bodies had fallen heavily into the water.

The first floor is pretty neat.

Not long ago, dozens of corpses placed by his own hands were still covered in a hundred steps, parked between one hospital bed after another.

The sheets of the hospital bed seemed to have been used for a long time, stained, and some of them had dried and blackened blood stains on them.

Used hanging bottles emit a foul-smelling drug smell.

There was silence in the building.

Be quiet.

I don't know if it's dangerous.

George inspected the second and third floors in turn.

Basically, all of them are outpatient clinics, hospital beds, or some examination rooms, and even a B-ultrasound room.

But for some reason, these wards or outpatient clinics seem to be excessively clean, and many of the instruments have a thick layer of dust on them.

He sat down at the front desk on the third floor.

The temples throb.

Painted Skin entered the clinic.

Then it was gone.

There are definitely some secrets in this clinic.

This secret is related to desperate believers.

"Those painted skins for the ...... to appear in a clinic"

"What was this place before the Desperate Believers appeared?"

Lightning pierced the sky, bright light fell into the ward, and the wind blew up the white curtains as if someone were dancing behind it.

I shuddered involuntarily.

The sound of rustling came from all directions.

The sound seemed to come from within the wall.

George smashed through a wall with a heavy object.

There was nothing in it.

Then, under his nose, the shadows that had been moving with the physical object slowly wriggled like black maggots.

"Shadows?"

"What is this?"

George dodged the shadowed area, and he stood where the thunder lightning could illuminate and surveyed the entire third floor.

Empty.

The huge shadow that covered the area was like a giant beast that had chosen to devour people, wriggling towards him.

Carefully avoiding the shadows, he fled all the way downstairs, the sound of rodents moving within the walls accompanied him all the way down.

The stairways and corridors are lined with oil paintings.

These paintings depict smiling boys and girls, and the year is marked in the lower right corner, which is supposed to be the time of painting.

George trotted all the way.

The people in the painting seem to be laughing.

It was as if they were staring at him.

George felt that something was wrong with the paintings, but he didn't know what was wrong.

Finally, I returned to the hall on the first floor.

"There's no mezzanine between floors and between walls, so the skin won't be on top."

"If it's not above, it's definitely below."

George gripped the knife tightly.

He began to carefully search the entire first floor, gradually searching through all the beds and nooks and crannies, trying to find a passage to some underground chamber.

Soon, he actually succeeded.

Just behind the medicine cabinet at the front desk, there was a rusty secret door, the iron lock on the secret door had been broken, and the black dried liquid was coated all over the surface.

It's blood.

If nothing else, those skins should be in here.