Darkness, darkness after light. As if being struck by a hammer of light and sound, a huge amount of dense sensory experience swallowed up the last of the senses.

In the last moments of losing consciousness, it is difficult to tell whether it is the fear of an unpredictable fate or the joy of being free from the unacceptable image.

Of course, this is not subject to subjective will, his own will does not change, his vision is swallowed up by darkness, buzzing tinnitus replaces the waves of accumulated noise, at the cost of giving up control of life, temporarily relieved.

Immersed in the darkness that seemed to last until the Day of Judgment, for the first time I really thought of death, of the thing that I was powerless to think about when I returned to the shack at night after half a lifetime of endless toiling and numbness—meaning.

The existence that has never been seen or heard has subverted the worldview known to the souls who travel between the salt tide and the port, and the religious parents have been exposed to the other world that the priest had hoped for when he died, and the few times he stepped into the church and knelt under the towering dome.

The lofty light shone through the jewel-colored stained glass collage windows, and it was impossible not to believe that a story heard from the heavenly realm could be conveyed in such a magnificent material.

Behind the heads, a circle of light made of bright yellow glass highlights the status of a mortal, with gray-black stone carvings with bat wings and twisted horns on their backs. The devil has more fangs in his mouth and spits out his funny tongue, and smaller dwarf-like counterparts crouch on the outer corners of the eaves to drain water.

The choir, with its handsome face and pure voice like that of a child, stood in the projection of the stars in the colored windows, and the light of a thousand candles illuminated and sang in unison, praising the glory of the Supreme Lord, who sheltered the world and drove out evil.

After that, he returned to the shack in the salt tide area, and continued to live a repetitive and thoughtless life, believing in something higher than the church spire, sheltering and judging everyone equally, and never felt inappropriate.

And those candle flames and colorful lights can't compare to its appearance. It transcends all the experiences of a short and scarce life, including the collage of glass stories of the sacred scriptures, which are not worth mentioning before the white light.

It rose from the window, like a living moon being pulled in front of its eyes, and in the bright, moving light was its incomprehensible body, not any mortal creature he had ever seen.

Countless voices rang out as it arrived, filling the whole church with a choir, and the sum was not even a tenth of the roaring and shouting sounds. It's not a rhyme of syllables, but I feel that it has a meaning that goes beyond words.

No one would have imagined its existence unless they had experienced it personally, including the priests who carried the holy scriptures and described the "ordinary" things with repeated words.

Breaking free from shackles and dogma, something less earthly than a humanoid with a halo on his head and wings on his back comes here, revealing his inhuman and transcendent malice.

Its existence punctures and eclipses the life made of religion and repetition, realizing that it is nothing more than human weaving. From the heaven above your head to the hell under your feet, there are also humanoid gods, all of which collapsed together.

The foundations of shelter and spiritual life were lost and replaced by an incomprehensible malicious presence.

The shattering shock of the worldview, the impact of the senses, the crushed consciousness wanders in the darkness. He floated until he felt his body's presence again and returned to the human world.

As if a long time had passed, Koop stretched his eyelids a little jerkyly, and the light shone from one side, stinging his eyes with pain and tears.

It's reminiscent of the beams of light falling from the high windows of the church, and then the blur of tears is seen as a light source writhing, flowing, and connecting with that thing.

He subconsciously raised his hand to cover it, trying to move his body backwards, but his whole body was restrained, and only his fingers could move. Instinctive fear caused him to scream and struggle, making the planks rumble as they shook and collided.

"Oh oh, take it easy, it's just a little bit of security." A young voice sounded, more active and brisk than Kraft's sense of composure, "Are you awake?" ”

"Kraft says you might wake up and be moved and worry about falling, so it's done specifically for immobilization. Don't worry, he told me that everything is over and that you're safe. ”

Noticing that Koop turned his head, the man understood what was wrong and walked away quickly, and after a sound of the wooden shaft turning, the glare shining directly on the façade suddenly subsided. Koop realized that it was just sunlight outside the window, bright and not warm.

"Are you alright......?" His lips were parched, as light as a lowly question to himself, and he muttered after a dry skin with a rough rubbing feeling.

The owner of the brisk voice walked to the head of the bed, the same black sleeves as Kraft rolled up, and the back of his hand pressed against his forehead, "No fever, in good condition." Please wait a moment and I'll inform him. ”

The sound of hurried footsteps faded away and stopped abruptly at the door.

"No, I hear you." A calm, somewhat tired response came from outside the door, and the muffled sound of leather boots on the stairs.

Koop blinked, squeezing tears out of his eyes, and saw the blonde, black-robed figure bent over the chains, walking with a cup on his face, with a visibly tired but not fake-looking smile on his face.

He untied the rope that had been wrapped around the bed a few times, lifted Koop's upper body up, and passed the cup to his mouth, "Drink a few beers, you consumed a few beers last night, and you must be thirsty after a hangover." ”

"Don't worry, the matter has been settled, and you will be able to go home safely after a while of observation." The cup was thoughtfully tilted at just the right angle, allowing the water to flow into his mouth at the right speed, moistening his lips and throat without choking.

The cool liquid lifted Koop's spirits a little, moisturizing his vocal cords and regaining his ability to vocalize. He looked at the hand with black cuffs, holding the water glass flat and outstretching, steady and powerful.

"That's not an evil spirit, is it?" Koop asked softly.

Of course, it can't be an evil spirit. Kraft turned his head and handed the empty cup to Lucius, "Thank you for helping me take care of the patient, Lucius." But next time, don't be too noisy in front of the mentally weak? ”

"Now give me a little space to communicate with the patient individually."

"Okay." Lucius took the order to leave, and went downstairs with his cup in hand. Soon there was the sound of cups falling to the ground, messy footsteps, and someone's cry of pain in the hallway.

Kraft listened intently for a moment, then turned his mind back to the moment when his normal footsteps sounded.

"What's that?" He asked, in a calm tone, completely different from the appearance of a night of terror, as light as if he were greeting a good afternoon in an elegant manner.

"It's the ......" Koop wanted to express what he saw and his gratitude for saving his life, but he couldn't tell the scene.

The memory filled with white light was like a piece of cloth, the general outline was still clear, and the rest of the details were stuck when the words came to his mouth, and he couldn't remember the specific content anyway.

There was something wriggling in the white light, and I couldn't remember what it was; The complex layered sound makes it impossible to tell what kind of nature it has. Even parables cannot be found in the world for any definite object.

“…… It's white light, sound, a lot of sound. "The more I reminisce, the more panicked emotions come out, like digging through the sand on the beach, and what seeps out of it is not seawater but a liquid of different colors.

"Smack." The black-cuffed hand slapped him on the shoulder, interrupting the ominous narrative, "Don't say it, don't think about it, it's all over." ”

"Take the time to rest and go for a nice dinner in the evening, with a serious barbecue, soup, and a few beers, but I really don't recommend drinking too much. Your stomach is not suitable for being overpropped, so you should pay attention to it in the future. ”

Kraft pressed Koop's shoulder and shook it back and forth, distracting him from his train of thought. It's almost over, and it's best for Koop to squeeze it into the corner of his memory with a thick soup roast after a second hangover, wash it away from the beer bubble, and stay away from the deep connections he hates for the rest of his life.

Go around to the back of the table, fold the scattered grid diagrams neatly, flatten them on the table, and insert them into the big medical records that you have taken time to write. Last night's data will be invaluable and worth further analysis.

He will carefully collect the research first, sort out the rules and the experience of this diagnosis and treatment, and finally form a case report-style manuscript.

Regardless of whether there is a condition to reproduce it, this transcript will be preserved, and under the premise of ensuring safety, the events in the salt tide area will be summarized and handed over to those who can survive them, so as to provide experience and evidence for the response to similar cases in the future.

But who to look for? There is still a question mark over this. Objectively speaking, Kraft doesn't feel that he is reliable enough, and he is not very good at reading people, and if he makes a mistake, he will create a second Kalman.

"Alas, it's really not easy to solve your disease." Kraft stuffed the paper into the box, fastened the metal buckle, and chatted with Koop, "Is there anything you want to eat?" I'm familiar with the bar owner, so it's not a problem to help you keep one in advance. ”

"Huh?" He picked up the box and hummed two light-hearted syllables to prompt Koop to talk about his suggestions for dinner, and prepared to go out to see if Lucius had broken his head.

This large section of attractive words did not have the desired effect, and Coop was not interested in the cuisine, and was still immersed in the idea of not being very organized. Kraft paused and waited for him to respond.

After a long thought, Coop didn't give the name of the dish, but instead popped up another question: "Mr. Kraft, are you religious?"

"If it's at the door of the church, I'll answer you, yes." An affirmative negation with a hypothetical premise that implicitly expresses Kraft's personal opinion. He knew that Koop was a churchgoer, and that was a sign of the sick.

This sentence gave Koop the courage to continue, "I saw that thing, I really saw it, and I couldn't pretend nothing had happened." ”

"That's definitely not the devil, the devil, the evil spirit, or anything like that, it's more ...... than those It's not like a human thing. ”

"Oh?" Craft asked a question word curiously. Neither the devils and demons of hell, nor the evil spirits wandering the world, there is only one thing with supernatural powers?

"No, of course not that." Koop didn't even realize what a disrespectful word he had used to refer to the Supreme Creator of all things, and he was holding the fellow's holy badge last night, "and it's even more ......"

He couldn't go any further and looked at Kraft, not knowing what he was seeking, advice or support?

"So, what the priest said is wrong, and the world is different?" Kraft held his chin in thought and gave a brief summary of his words, "If you are still willing to think like that in half a month, come to the academy to find me." ”

After the blonde-haired, black-robed young doctor finished speaking, he saw that Koop was still stunned by the deviant words that were easy to speak, and left with the suitcase. At the door, he turned around as if he had suddenly remembered something.

"By the way, don't forget tonight's dinner to celebrate your wake-up."