From Kraft's point of view, the body that had been leaning over the table, seemingly identical to the other fungal parasitic bodies, moved without warning as the three approached to observe the hidden jewelry box.

Tilting his head and lifting his upper body, the red light, as thin as a blood smear, expands rapidly on the table. The light source was something he knew, a rough ore fixed to a metal base, dangling in his chest, reflecting a face that shouldn't be expressionless.

The wings of the nose, septal cartilage, and lips have been broken down, while the facial fascicles twitch and have no tendency to atrophy, filling the gaps with fungal tissue.

It propped itself up with one hand, and with a simple gesture it showed the bulging muscles beneath the scaly mushroom layer, but in a posture that was very different from the rest of the body and was normally human.

Something that had never been imagined had happened, and when its kind only retained its skeleton and minimal muscles for one-time movement, it actually had a functioning respiratory system, filling the chest cavity with air, and spitting out a mist of spore dust mixed with psychedelic colors at high speed.

Kraft dragged Martin and Koop back, but a suit of armor and their weight severely slowed down their speed, and they couldn't compare to the spread of the dust and mist, and they couldn't get out of the shroud with all their might.

In the last seconds before he lost consciousness, his mind was filled with burning pain in his distant airways and the sound of what seemed to be a human voice.

[It is conscious]

……

……

Martin felt his arm again, and it took about a dozen breaths.

It had been a moment since he woke up, and he didn't make a move, nor did he open his eyes, trying to remember how he had ended up here.

The answer is no answer. There was only a sense of suffocation and falling in a messy mind, like chasing alone into the deep forest during a hunt, the way to come was covered by the vast forest fog and fallen leaves, and the shaking mind forgot what he was chasing.

Judging from experience, it may have fallen into a deep trap, the kind of fall is very long, but the arm under the body is still felt.

Continuing to pretend to sleep for a while, Martin was sure that he had not been captured by the enemy who had dug the pit. As the fine senses returned, the uncomfortable but reassuring hard armor clamped to let the body know that it was still protected, and that the limbs were not restrained.

He quietly brewed strength, his eyelids gently opening a slit, observing his surroundings.

The thin rays of light, which are almost non-existent, trace some bulging outlines, and it is difficult to determine whether they are overlapping spots or real entities. They fill the entire field of view, so much so that the space is somewhat crowded, neither the masonry beams and pillars of the building, nor the branches of the forest trees.

Martin tried to roll over, but found that the ground was unusually soft and slippery, difficult to focus on, and covered with a thick layer of moss. When I touch it through the glove, I can vaguely feel the soft fluffy texture.

It's like a blanket magnified many times, but it's so thick that it can't reach the covered adhesion surface.

Completely unfamiliar to the touch, he couldn't find anything similar to it, especially as his intuition indicated that it was a plant-like living thing.

This feeling does not exist in the past understanding, and the confusion of being lost is aggravated.

His eyes couldn't help but open to adjust to the light, and the outlines of the void and reality became clear, revealing to him a richness of color that had been largely hidden in the darkness, but still not to be ignored.

It's not a virtual image of a spot, but a physical object that fills the surroundings. Trying to wave their hands away, they actually felt the outlines that became more real as the color vision returned, closer than expected. The unstretched crowding and the toughness of the hands felt like falling into the stomach of some giant cow, and underneath it was the cilia that caressed the chyme.

He hurriedly got up and distanced himself from the "large moss" that brushed through the crevices of his armor, wiggling slightly to a certain rhythm.

At this time, the eyes that were completely accustomed to the dim light finally saw those things clearly.

【Mushrooms】

Mushrooms as large as windmill mill mills grow from every gap, making the whole space unrecognizable. The "moss" underfoot is a mushroom that covers the ground and swings without wind. The light came from the arched windows that were half-hidden by the canopy and the hanging silk, the only thing familiar in this bizarre place.

A stained window in a prayer room. The clouds in his mind cleared a little, and memories poured down the opening, and Martin realized where he was. The church, and the striking box, and the warning exclamations around it, and then the tugging, gushing dust and mist.

Checking the position of the arched window, he roughly found the direction of the exit, intending to leave the prayer room occupied by mushrooms as soon as possible. Every moment here feels twisted and weird, inexplicably similar to the appearance inside the pagan's chest, except that this time it is the organs of the building that are contaminated.

The fungus blanket on the ground drowned out the sound of walking, and the sound of armor colliding was amplified in the silence. He subconsciously stopped and listened, unable to tell whether the sound he had made was absorbed by the giant mushrooms that filled the walls, or whether it was heard by something growing in the fungus at a distance where the echo could not return.

But Martin didn't want to take off his armor and lose the sense of security that is most important here. He chose to slow down, moving to the doorway with small but still noiseless steps, grasping the loose metal doorknob and pushing it slightly.

The doorknob was connected to a whole piece of hollowed out rotten wood around it, and the cluster of tray-shaped mushrooms growing on the façade was pulled and dropped. It upset a certain balance of scarcity, and the mottled patent leather on the door of the prayer room swelled and collapsed in front of it, leaving crumbs that felt like water-soaked dry bread.

The debris of the collapse dispersed along with the sounds, and the main hall of the church appeared in front of me.

He didn't go back to the normal building as he thought, and the larger space provided more room for the mushrooms to grow. They grow unrestricted, with tall shanks lignified and the ability to support huge dead weights. The mushroom cap is like an umbrella open, and the bumps on the surface harden and condense into a lumpy dark substance, like an acorn growing from the canopy, and the denser and denser paving is the meadow of this mushroom forest.

If that alone is not enough to shake the spirit that has been baptized for many days. What really frightened him was the banded clearing in the middle of the forest, where the thick mushrooms were smashed open and crushed, and the torn velvet carpet showed traces of the actions of their owners.

It is like a series of giant snake paths that lead from the open main entrance of the church to the pulpit.

And on that pulpit, the particularly lush surviving velvet room has deep marks that seem to have been licked by a long tongue with sharp teeth. The black-red residue of what appears to be a dried blood is a large splash that masks the color of the countertop itself.

The associations evoked by the scene in front of me left my mind blank, and my mind couldn't understand why the whole church had become the way it was, and what was the thing that created the path. He was stunned for a moment, and when he realized something more serious than the erosion of a room or a church, it was too late to feel like a lifetime of fear.

Not caring whether it would make a noise or not, Martin turned around and rushed to the window of the prayer room, breaking open the mushroom bush to look out, the silhouette of the colorful mushrooms stretched all over the alleyways of the house, high above the eaves and treetops, bathed in the dim light that could never have been moonlight. The tallest, probably "mature" hardened parts, have black-red mineral-like particles condensed on the surface of the umbrella.

And that most terrible idea was also confirmed in the most direct way, a crazy and thriving world - only mushrooms.

Another light came into view, the wide caps that had taken the place of the forest from outside the village, and the mineral-like clumps on their surfaces lit up in patches, emitting a distant and misty red light, partially extinguished while the neighbors lit up, moving in the direction of the church. There was a sound in the field of light that could still be heard at this distance.

The light reminded the frightened frozen consciousness of where he had seen them, and it was crudely polished and set into a metal base and hung from the pagan's chest. And when it lights up, it only means one thing.

【Angels are coming】

Martin felt that he should have drawn his weapon, or at least run away, but neither his body nor his consciousness responded. The spiritual pillar of shallow, unfirm faith and so-called honor seems to have bloomed on the surface, or the kind of thing described by the Church never existed, and those who died in battle could not ascend to the kingdom of existence.

In contrast, what "Orthodoxy" sees is more convincing. He experienced the path of the elect in the Holy Scriptures, was led on a pilgrimage by some force, witnessed unimaginable "miracles", and finally entered the other world, where their angels were coming to the Face. And the real other world and angels are by no means beautiful.

It is the fear of transcending death, that everything that comforts death has been proven to be a lie, and death may not be the end of suffering. The fear of the collapse of faith and cognition, and the fear of not even having a concrete object, almost turned into a hysterical voice, and he no longer considered hiding, because he could not find the possibility of escaping in the face of such an unknown object.

A hand reached out from behind his back, covering his mouth with all the force and pulling him to the ground and out of the window.

"I remember I just said yesterday, don't shout, be quiet and find a place to hide." A whisper rang in his ears, and Martin recognized it as Kraft's voice, "I knew no one would remember." ”

"But that's too much. Walking around in armor, smashing down a door, and I'll see you singing with that thing when it's too late? ”

The situation changed so quickly that Martin could not react, and he recounted in a trance, what frightened him with words, and unconsciously changed the name of the pagan religion, "Orthodox, angel"

"Don't leave this angel alone. It's just right, if it weren't for that, I wouldn't have found you. Now hurry up and take off this damn armor. Kraft glanced out the window, and Martin couldn't make out his face, but he was sure that there was no panic in his voice, and that the calmness seemed to be conveyed through his voice contagiously.

Seeing that Martin's reaction was wrong, he personally started to untie the armor buckle. Thanks to the people who used to use their grandfather's armor, the structure of this thing has not undergone fundamental reform for decades, otherwise it would only be able to look at the tin cans on the ground now.

"And then?" The knight, like a shelled crab, asked blankly, unable to understand what the other party had to do in the face of another world and the "angels".

"Then find a way to figure out what this 'angel' is, find my servant, and finally go back." As the knee pads were removed first, Kraft turned to his arm, "Don't ask me how I did it, if you still want to go back and drink honey beer, get moving." ”

A hope, or a command, to move the dazed body and participate in the dismantling work. It is not possible to solve the fundamental problem, but at least temporary goals are given, which is exactly what is needed.

"Very well, let's go up there."

"Why?"

"Because I've searched for it below." Before leaving, Kraft leaned against the window edge for one last observation of the red light, which had reached the edge of the village, and was obscured from its main body.

Admittedly, these mushrooms are terrifying, but they also provide a lot of convenience for movement.

There was no need to worry about the sound of footsteps revealing themselves, the ubiquitous fluffy blanket allowed for bolder movements, as long as they didn't touch the puffy woodwork, most of which were already crushed by their own weight, and a few collapsed at the touch of the door that Martin had just tried to open.

Their route was largely the same as during the search, and Kraft even pulled out a net of oil cans from the side of the hall pillar, and Martin couldn't understand why it was in the world, and how Kraft knew. It wasn't until he found Coop in the upstairs room who was silent behind the door, and it looked like he had been hiding there with a hammer for a long time. He finally confirmed that the master and servant had definitely relevant experience.

"What's next?"

"Let's go to the study." With his goal in mind, Kraft made a beeline for his study. If there is any place that could be the epicenter of this catastrophe, the corresponding deep location of the body that can lift the upper body and appear to have a sane body is undoubtedly the most suspicious.

His instincts might have been correct, and as he approached that location, the mushrooms in the corridors grew more and more luxuriant, blocking almost all the way through the gaps in the giant mushrooms.

By the time we arrived, the red light was already shining from the village houses to the windowsill of the large window, rippling on the ceiling where the mycelium drooped.

Unlike the empty tabletops of today, the ones here are covered with old and new scratches from the repeated cleaning of mushrooms, as well as a few scattered manuscripts, both paper and notes.

This time, Kraft looked around carefully, finding nothing crouching on the side, and carefully uncovered the manuscripts that were poorly preserved, but much better than those outside.

Their paper was identical to the one in the tome, with the same tear on one side, as if it had been rudely ripped from a tome. The writing font is smooth, it should be from a private note, and the paragraph division is more casual. There is a slight difference in the width and height of the shoulders of the successive letters, not like writing at once, but recording them multiple times.

[A copy of the original research]

It details how the author felt a strange "attention" after dreaming many times about the room where he was asleep. The inquisitive author felt that this repetition was an exploratory law and began to record it.

After that, most of them are descriptions of daily dreams, which are gradually detailed and lengthy, expanding from the content of one sentence to paragraphs, and even summarizing evaluation criteria such as time, self-awareness in dreams, and waking time.

At the same time, he tried to find people with similar conditions to prove that it was not an individual case caused by his own mental disorder, and the effect was very unsatisfactory. Those people either did not match the situation, or pretended to cheat him out of payment, and finally found a suspected case in another city and inexplicably cut off correspondence.

He also invited friends to stay overnight, but they all said they did not have similar symptoms.

The record continues, and in the paragraphs from page 2 onwards, a new and striking evaluation criterion is added at the end.

【Brightness】

The white light, the white light that illuminates dim dreams.

Push the book "The Abnormal Opening of the Apartment" with Friends of the Altar

_(:3⌒)_

There are also group friends' books that are going to test the waters next week, so let's push them down together. It's called "Miss Witch, Please Respect Yourself", and the original title is "The Taste of the Witch is Really Good"

(°Д°) (It's hard to imagine the mental state of the group)