Maurice's wife, Mary, stared at the cover of the letter for a long time before she took the opener from the side and opened it carefully.

A thin, folded piece of paper fell out of the envelope, and the first thing Mrs. Mary noticed before opening the paper was the uneven mark on the back of the paper.

It was handwriting—a writing with so much force that the strokes were clearly visible on the back of the paper.

The person who wrote this letter was probably extremely emotional at the time.

The old woman sitting in front of the fireplace adjusted her position slightly, placing the letter she had read on the small round table next to her, and glanced at the date stamp on the cover of the letter from Frost in her hand.

The letter was sent on December 5.

Three days after the first letter was sent — in just three days, the late "Brown Scott" wrote the second letter.

Mrs. Mary opened the folded letterhead, and a few lines of scribbled and messy words came into her eyes—they were not at all as elegant and neat as the folklorist's first letter a few days earlier, but in the few lines of the writer was filled with great unease and trepidation:

"My friend, the situation ...... No, I don't know how to explain it to you, I'm very confused right now, it's hard to even think, my mind is being disturbed by something, memory...... Don't come to the frost! In short, don't come to the frost! Even if you see other things I have written to you in the future, and see other forms of invitation, don't come to Frost!

"There's a huge conspiracy here.

"Don't come to the frost!"

There was not even a sign at the end of the letterhead, and even the stamps on the envelopes were crookedly pasted.

Mrs. Mary looked at the scribbled words, as if she could imagine the scene of a folklorist who had gone out of mental problems under the great cognitive tear to write these words with the last of his sense, and then struggled into the frosty wind to deliver the letter to the post office.

She slowly folded the piece of paper back and stuffed it back into the envelope.

It's a disturbing letter, and the whole thing is filled with a terrible atmosphere from beginning to end, which under normal circumstances would have been enough for the person concerned to run to the church to seek refuge.

Mrs. Mary's gaze swept over the small round table beside her, and swept over the letter from the Lost Country—

“…… The Descendants of the Deep Sea have a unique taste, more delicious than ordinary fish, and the captain has a special cooking skill, and Anomaly 099, aka Miss Alice, has learned the essence of it, and I should probably try it too......"

The old woman silently threw the letter from Frost into the nearby fireplace, watching it burn rapidly in the bright flames and turn to ashes.

"They've gone to ......"

She grunted softly, then got up, grabbed ink, pens, and letter from a nearby shelf, and began to write a letter that would be delivered to an antique store in the lower town.

……

Church personnel in black coats walked around the cemetery, examining all that remained of the cemetery—every trail, every coffin, every street lamp, was marked and sampled in the hope of reconstructing what happened here last night.

Agatha, the "gatekeeper", remained in the caretaker's hut, and across from her sat the old caretaker with a gloomy temperament and a stiff back.

After a while, the young woman, who was mostly covered in bandages, looked up at the sky outside the window, and saw that the sun had gradually sunset, and a reddish glow began to float over the entire city-state.

As evening approached, the guards she had brought with her had been busy in the cemetery for hours, and the old guards in front of her had been silent for hours.

Strictly speaking, the old warden was not just silent - he remained in a state of near-closed mind, not moving, not speaking, not responding to external stimuli, and he had been sitting quietly in that chair like a breathing sculpture of flesh and blood ever since the church guards were reported to have come here.

A black-clothed guard pushed open the wooden door of the guard's hut, came to Agatha's side, bent down and whispered something, the latter nodded slightly: "I know, send the sample to the cathedral first, the scene remains as it is, tonight may be critical, you need to keep someone on guard." ”

The black-clothed guard nodded in agreement, but before leaving, he couldn't help but glance at the old man who was sitting motionless in the chair, and when he saw the old man's cloudy eyes, his face was obviously a little uneasy: "He...... How long will it be like this? Is it really okay? ”

"The protective closure of his mind, in this way he is fighting and cleaning himself of pollution, or by the way, protecting us," Agatha whispered, "The grave keeper must have been exposed to something far more than he could have imagined last night, and he seemed to have come back from the brink of madness...... But don't worry, he's an experienced fighter who has managed to stabilize his situation and will be fine. ”

Speaking of this, Agatha paused, and added, "As for how long this state of affairs will last...... That's not to say, maybe he'll recover in the next second, or maybe it won't be until this time tomorrow, depending on how long he's been in contact with that terrible pollution. ”

The black-clad guard thought for a moment, then looked up at the window, and through the slightly dirty glass window, he could see the busy church personnel on the path outside.

He retracted his gaze and looked at the two corpses in the hut - the two intruders, who had been verified to be annihilationists, apparently dead at the hands of the old guard, as the situation was unclear and remained in place for the sake of protecting the scene.

They can't be the reason for the old guard's closed mind, even if the demon behind them is out of control, it doesn't have this level.

What could that be? Is it a more powerful ghostly demon? The superior priest of the Annihilation Cultists? Or something else?

The black-clad guard voiced his doubts, but Agatha just shook her head: "No, it should be a more bizarre and dangerous situation." ”

"Why are you so sure?" The black-clothed guard asked subconsciously.

"Because there are really only traces left by a few heretics at the scene, and a pile of corpses that have not left any supernatural reactions, suspected of being 'restless'," Agatha said lightly, "There are no observable traces left, which means ......"

"It means that the visitor did nothing last night, and that his presence in this cemetery for a moment was enough to make an old fellow sane."

The old man's voice suddenly sounded in the hut, interrupting the communication between the black-clothed guard and the gatekeeper, Agatha immediately looked in the direction where the voice came from, and finally showed a faint smile on her expressionless face: "You have recovered, it's good." ”

"I don't dare to say that I have fully recovered," the old guard said slowly, gradually stabilizing the various perceptions that had shifted slightly after reopening his mind, and he looked into Agatha's eyes, consciously blocking out the jumping ghosts behind the other party, "but at least he can tell which part belongs to reality and which part belongs to madness." ”

"That's enough," Agatha nodded, "what happened yesterday?" ”

"The corpse they had sent was suddenly agitated, and after many words, it was sober as a living man, and then the four Annihilation Cultists entered the cemetery to take the restless one with them—they had disguised themselves with the power of a ghostly demon, and they were skilled summoners, who had hidden from my eyes, but not from my intuition.

"I lure two people here, kill them, these two on the floor, and then I was about to go to the cemetery to kill the other two, and the accident happened."

The old guard looked up and looked in the direction of the door.

"An indescribable ...... When a visitor came to visit, I looked at Him for a while, maybe only for a few seconds, and I couldn't do it for a moment. ”

"Unspeakable visitor?" Agatha couldn't help but frown, "Can you be specific?" ”

The old guard struggled to recall.

All that came to his mind was a chaotic mass of light and shadow, and an overwhelming noise.

The hasty closure of the mind removes the temporary contamination of oneself, but it also clears some useful memories.

"No, just remember the chaos of light and noise," the old guard shook his head, "and even if I could accurately describe what I saw, it would not make sense to you—what I saw was not necessarily real, and even if it was, it was not necessarily true in the eyes of others, and as human beings, we were too limited in the way we perceive it. ”

"Well, that's the whole answer," Agatha nodded, "an unspeakable visitor visited the cemetery at the last stage, but didn't do any damage...... Are you sure you want to use the word 'visit' in your report? The word is neutral, even friendly. ”

"Sure," replied the old warden calmly, "I have spoken to Him, though I have hardly succeeded in exchanging anything—the visitor has tried to communicate, and this is a neutral and friendly signal. ”

"Understood, it's recorded," Agatha nodded again, "and then?" What else? ”

"After the visitor left, I could faintly see that he had some ...... left Thing, on the path at the door," said the old warden as he recalled, "but I couldn't see clearly, my vision was severely damaged by that time, and my cognition was very problematic, and I wasn't sure ......"

"If you're talking about a pile of debris that has been incinerated by the Demon Counter, then we've found it," Agatha interrupted the old guard with a calm expression, "If that's right, it seems to be the visitor's ......'carrier'." ”

(End of chapter)