Chapter 331: Infiltrating the City

Once smooth and pristine, the paper was now marred and crinkled, splotched by an unusual gray-black substance that the layman might mistake for mud. This mud had invaded multiple areas of the paper, disrupting the ink and rendering some of the script smeared and fragmented. Yet, thanks to the scrupulous efforts of Morris, who treated the damaged document with painstaking care, a large portion of the words had been recovered and rendered just legible enough to be deciphered.

The written record belonged to “Scott Brown”, and chronicled the bizarre physical transformations he experienced during his last clear and rational moments.

“... Roughly at 4 a.m., which marked twelve hours since I had locked and secured the door, I was struck with intense ringing in my ear. Accompanied by sporadic bouts of dizziness, it impaired my ability to move around. I could only muster the strength to write during those brief periods when I felt marginally better. I detected what appeared to be blood pooling beneath my skin, accompanied by bruises that had surfaced without any apparent cause...

At around 6:30 a.m., I experienced a sensation as if my internal organs were in complete disarray. It felt as though the structures within me had morphed, each assuming its own unique role, and started shifting. There was no pain, and the dizziness had also ebbed away... My fear began to dissolve, and in its place, vivid memories started to resurface...

Close to 7 a.m., my memory served me with starkly clear images of my own death. The realization dawned upon me that the original version of me had already perished. Inexplicably, my left leg had fractured—it was as if a portion of the bone had suddenly disintegrated and disappeared.

At 8:15 a.m., the disintegration of my left leg began. It started with spontaneous cracks appearing on the skin, followed by the internal tissues leaking out in the form of a gray-black fluid. The fluid appeared to display signs of life, wriggling and crawling on the floor and even climbing up the walls... I feared that the wooden boards I had nailed across the window would not be able to contain these eerie and terrifying entities, but to my relief, I found that they gradually lost their activity once they left my body. Moreover, even while active, they seemed to consciously avoid sunlight... This could be a critical piece of information, so I’m noting it down here...

... Despite my heart having ceased to function, my consciousness remained intact. I was aware that my body was no longer operating according to regular human physiological processes. When I tried to make a cut, instead of blood, a gray-black viscous substance oozed out slowly... What was my body composed of at this point?

The dissolution process started spreading to my entire lower half. I had to strain myself to stay still and continue documenting these observations—I no longer felt any pain, had no breath, and my heart had stopped functioning long ago. At times, I could hear a humming sound, as if the substance that now formed my body was resonating... The viscous substance kept leaking out, turning the room into a mess...

... I hope Garloni is not frightened when she comes to clean the room... Although, as I pen down her name, I can barely remember what Garloni looks like.

At 10:30 a.m., what I feared the most started to happen. My vision began to deteriorate rapidly, and my surroundings quickly faded into darkness. I had to feel the edges of the paper to keep my writing legible...

I am not sure of the exact time now, but it must be somewhere between 11 a.m. and 12 p.m. I heard a sharp, unusual noise that lasted for approximately five minutes, after which all discomfort began to fade, and the sensation in the remaining parts of my body rapidly diminished. I could vaguely feel the area below my chest sinking. Perhaps another hour has passed...”

“So, there must be a larger cult stronghold hidden in Frost, a concealed location large enough to hold extensive ceremonies, potent enough to harness the power of the deep sea consistently, capable of creating replicants within the city-state, and even infiltrating Dagger Island,” Duncan stated slowly, casting his gaze around the room. The room’s only window had been sealed off with wooden planks, and the ceiling, walls, and floor were coated with dried, lifeless “mud.” Every trace in the room seemed to tell a harrowing tale of a desperate fight for survival.

“Perhaps, in the end, we’ll have to give the cultists here a little surprise from the Vanished,” he murmured softly, rubbing his fingers together. A tiny cluster of dark green flames fell from his fingertips, silently landing on the floor before rapidly disappearing.

Of course, Morris noticed this, but he remained silent and glanced towards the nearby table.

That was where Scott Brown had last “worked”—perhaps it was a transient replicant, but as it hunched over to write while its body was collapsing, it still had a noble soul.

“... So, what’s the plan?” The old scholar looked up at the captain. “The traces in the room, the information Brown left behind, and... Garloni downstairs.”

“We’ve already collected enough evidence. Let’s leave the rest to the people of Frost,” Duncan said, his tone indifferent. “Leave the room as it is, place the letter in a noticeable spot on the table, and prepare an anonymous tip-off letter. As for Garloni...”

Duncan paused, hesitating for a moment.

“Garloni’s cognitive interference has yet to cease. Even after the replicants in this building have disappeared, she shows no signs of regaining consciousness. She continues to believe her teacher is resting in this room. This indicates that the ‘source’ of the interference isn’t her teacher, but something else that’s still active and hidden deep within the city-state. She won’t truly recover until that source is eradicated.”

As he spoke, his brow furrowed slightly, as if he was considering something else.

“And... we can’t be certain how many other ‘Scott Browns’ and ‘Garlonis’ there are in this city-state.”

Morris’ expression became grave: “You mean...”

“Rumors of the dead returning circulate in the city, while at the same time, completely contradictory news reaches Tyrian,” Duncan looked at Morris. “I fear that replicants and cognitive interference have thoroughly infiltrated this city-state.”