O'Brien put down his palms, pursed his lips on his statue-like face, and looked around: "Count the number of people. Demon hunter, O'Brien."
It was like a switch called sound was turned on, and the sandpit was filled with the sounds of coughing, turning on the kettle, and loud breathing.
"Qunell Byrne, the Demon Slayer."
"Norbert Harrington, True Sight Watcher."
"Erics Brand the Demon Slayer."
People in the sand pit spoke one after another, and it was the last one's turn. He spat out the sand and said in a dry voice: "Copeland, senior investigator."
The sound of hurried running came from the sand pit, and a figure slid into the sand pit from above, raising a large amount of sand.
"Don't worry, we still have at least three minutes." O'Brien said to the person who suddenly broke in: "Sentinel, what did you find?"
"The oasis is very close to us." The embarrassed man known as the Sentinel lowered his head and breathed heavily. "Maybe less than a mile."
"Did you see clearly?"
"Of course." The sentry raised his head, revealing a dark and terrifying left eye.
"Then did you see it?" O'Brien asked again.
The sentry shook his head: "But I feel it, right in the oasis."
"Here you go, little investigator." O'Brien took out a notebook from his inner pocket and threw it to Copeland. "We are already very close. It is foreseeable that if we get any closer, its rituals will be inconvenient.
There are gaps, and we must ensure peace of mind throughout the process.”
"Find it and destroy it. This is our only mission." O'Brien looked at Copeland who was hurriedly catching the note: "Copeland, you have an additional mission: record the information. If we fail to solve it
, to ensure that the information can be sent out."
Copeland lowered his head and opened the notebook with a wrinkled brown cover.
[The scope of its rituals is expanding every day. When we entered a small town three hundred miles away from the oasis, there were no survivors. To put it bluntly, it may not be long before it becomes the third disaster]
[The good news is that animals will not be attacked if they make noises. Only humans will. At least its range will not become a dead place where nothing exists. But it is strange that if we sit on a horse, the noises made by the horse will be counted.
For us, it’s because we drive the horses...?】
The handwriting changed in the next paragraph.
[The man above is named Keilan Cullen, and I am No Surname Richards, a new user of this notebook. Obviously the user will consume it faster than the pages of this notebook, so I recommend that latecomers
We’d better write down who we are. If we succeed, we will all become celebrities; if we fail, we will also be pioneers]
[The closer we get, the longer the ritual will be and the shorter the gap will be... Maybe before we get close to it, the surroundings will be filled with rituals 24 hours a day]
Copeland quietly read the messages from previous owners.
In addition to their findings, the notebook itself also has a sad pattern.
The further back, the faster the handwriting changes and the shorter the content.
[My name is Mikael Reed. No surname. Richards' guess is absolutely correct. We are ten miles away from the oasis, and it has become an eternal night like winter in North Randshire. Brief and pitiful gaps are interspersed with long ceremonies.
time]
[I am little Henry. The previous owner of the note died before he could get it. I feel it is necessary to write down the previous owner named Quinlan Price. From a spiritual point of view, the unique note
People usually don’t live long, does that mean this is a cursed note?]
[I am Troy Mike, and I am about... seven miles away from the oasis. If the next owner sees this message, please go to No. 33, Benin Block, King Allen City and tell my wife and daughter about me]
This article ended abruptly, and the handwriting of the following content has been changed.
[I am Ubli Kalam, Wuli. There are two owners before me. They failed to leave content. Unfortunately, I also failed to know their names. There is no new information, I write it
I just hope someone can remember me]
There are only a few pages of notes, and the back is blank. Copeland has turned to the end.
Copeland looked up at O'Brien who was making arrangements, picked up a pen and wrote new content.
[I am Copeland...perhaps the last owner]
[We are one mile outside the oasis, and the interval here is only seven or eight minutes. I think that when we enter the oasis, the ceremony will exist seamlessly...]
He wanted to write more, but O'Brien made a gesture to lower his voice: "The time is coming, keep quiet and do what you planned."
Copeland put the notes into his pocket, and the exorcists who had rested for a few minutes climbed out of the sand pit, carrying oil lamps and their only horse, and quietly walked towards the distant silhouette in the coming night.
Copeland pressed his palm on the note through his clothes.
Their deaths were worthless and meaningless.
These elites should be investigating and solving weird things everywhere, instead of being used as expendable items and dying on the way to that damn oasis.
But - if they don't come, who will come?
Those civilians?
Click——
A sound sounded clearly in the silence.
The exorcists looked towards the direction from which the sound came. Under O'Brien's feet, his boots were stuck in holes.
There used to be an old river bed, covered with wet sand to form an empty shell.
O'Brien opened his mouth, and obscure murmurs suddenly sounded around him, and the next moment, his figure disappeared.
There was no time to grieve or sigh, so the surviving exorcist who had seen this scene many times continued to move forward.
O'Brien arranged everything, even if he was dead.
One hundred meters outside the oasis, Norbert Harrington stepped on a dead branch hidden under the sand.
Entering the oasis, Quesnel Byrne stepped into the bushes.
Near the village in the oasis, the stones mentioned by Alex Brand hit the dead trees.
Outside the village, the sentry staggered and stood silently, but the oil lamp in his hand swayed and made a squeaking sound. He only had time to turn around and say goodbye to Copeland with blood and tears flowing from his strange eyes.
This land seems to be occupied by silent evil gods, and any sound will be considered as heresy and will be judged.
Before dusk was about to disappear, Copeland finally walked into the village and saw the evil spirit known as the third plague...a thin silhouette hanging under a dead tree.
Copeland silently described the scene he saw in his notebook, put it in the backpack of the following horse, and watched it galloping around, disturbing the land but leaving unharmed.
Withdrawing his gaze, Copeland put down the oil lamp and walked towards the dead tree where the figure was hanging, and the outline began to become clear.
Then he heard his heart beating deep in his chest.
…
Two hundred miles away from the oasis, people in the small town are eagerly awaiting the return of the expedition team, the heroes of mankind.
Late that night, a brown horse emerged from the darkness and rushed into the town.
People recognized it, gathered around it, and some opened their backpacks.
There was only a notebook with a wrinkled brown cover inside.
