The dark room was silent and solemn, with only the sound of heavy breathing and the small sound of the pen tip rubbing against the paper echoing here.
Shermans didn't realize that fine beads of sweat had covered his forehead. As he thought, he seemed to be getting closer to the truth. He recorded what was in his mind in this thick note.
everything.
"Where did this plague called the demon come from and when did it start? We have killed so many, so why haven't we found a 'pure' demon yet?"
Fear and ecstasy coexisted in his heart. Shermans felt as if he was getting younger. As he thought about his thoughts, his thoughts kept getting faster. He even said that he felt that what he had just done had changed the human understanding of monsters.
It has advanced a few points.
Then he remembered something again, put down the pen, and turned the notes to the front.
The notes recorded a lot of things, although most of them were Shermans's research on theology. As a member of the Cardinals, although he could not tell the Demon Hunting Order, he could still understand some general inside information.
He looked at his past handwriting, and pieced together an almost terrifying truth from the broken messages.
"In this world, is our Demon Hunting Order really the only one with the power to fight against demons?"
The old body couldn't help but tremble. Shermans picked up the water glass and reluctantly took a sip. His eyes were full of fear, and then he looked around, as if there was something weird hiding in the corner.
Stare at him intently.
But in fact he was the only one here, alone.
He continued to write, but as he wrote, he could feel a burning heat rising in his body.
It was a kind of fearful mania. Obviously nothing happened, but the blood began to accelerate, the pupils dilated slightly, and the heart beat violently, bringing a burden to this old body.
"No, that's not right... With the terrible erosion of demons, this will be a plague more terrifying than the Black Death. But in this thousand-year war, we can actually survive this plague, and even say that
established such a magnificent kingdom.
This is not right. According to the theoretical propagation power of demons, even when the evangelical church is at its most powerful, it cannot curb the ravages of demons. They will only become more and more numerous. If you kill one, there will be two more.
The next demon hunter will be born a more terrifying one!"
His body became heavier, as if there was a black tide overflowing his body. The strange sea water was extremely viscous, as if countless hands were connected to him.
Little bits of blood dripped from the tip of his nose, staining the paper red. Shermans was not aware of this at all. He continued to write, the black ink mixed with the red blood, leaving red and black tracks along the paper.
The texture spreads like countless waving dry branches.
"There is something wrong with this world. Even if the number of demon-hunting sects expands ten times or a hundred times, they cannot contain the pollution of demons amid this raging plague.
According to this, except for a few magnificent cities, most of the world should have been devoured by demons, instead of what it is now."
His body was getting heavier and heavier, but Shermans' writing pen was getting faster and faster. He could feel that there was something rotten and sticky that had caught him, and they were entangled in his body, trying to kill him.
Pressed into that darkness.
Shermans even felt that he could see the hateful and terrifying faces as long as he looked away, but he did not look. He kept staring at the paper in front of him, dyeing himself with that
Bloody ink continues to write.
"But we survived. The influence of demons on this world became smaller and smaller, and even disappeared. Steam engines that changed the world appeared, and kingdoms were established one after another... We have gained a firm foothold in this plague, but it is not us.
I did it myself..."
The pen tip paused for a long time, leaving a dark hole. Shermans stared at the hole, as if there was something behind the hole.
After a while, he laughed a little fearfully.
"Isn't this question simple? Just reverse it. We have survived. In addition to the Demon Hunting Order, there must be some kind of power in this vast world, an unknown power. They are
Contain the main force of demons."
This is the truth that can destroy the perception of the evangelical church, but Shermans wrote it out so easily today. In fact, he couldn't believe it. If he hadn't seen too many things, his
Faith might just collapse.
But this is the only reasonable explanation. Shermans would not believe that those demons would kill each other, so humans survived. They are the embodiment of madness.
He breathed heavily, wanting to fill his lungs with all the air in the house. Shermans needed to calm down, so that he could continue writing.
There was a smile on his face as dry as a rotten wood, but more of an ecstasy of realizing the truth. He discovered loopholes in history, which might help to find out the nature of the demon.
But such ecstasy did not last long. Shermans's eyes became cold. He reached into his arms and stroked the exquisite flintlock gun, which brought him a lot of security.
Shermans is not an outstanding person. Apart from his piety and fanaticism towards his faith, he is actually an extremely mediocre guy, even a little "unmotivated".
He has no desire for power, and has no interest in wealth. If it weren't for the fact that he knew about Seine Lothair's ominous side, he wouldn't have gotten together with Miguel. If Seine Lothair didn't have that weird power,
Shermans didn't mind him becoming pope at all.
He didn't know who the new pope suddenly appeared, but Shermans knew very well that there was a taboo power hidden under the iron mask. The unknown and weird thing wore the holy crown of the pope. This was Sherman.
This is absolutely not allowed.
"What about those people? But what about those people who are more intelligent than me?"
Shermans asked himself in his notes.
Everyone who can leave his name in history was an absolutely outstanding genius in that era, and there are many such people in the history of the Evangelical Church. Because of their efforts, the Evangelical Church gradually dominated the entire Western world and set off a revolution.
Holy Eastern March.
"They are far smarter and more powerful than me. So even Shermans can find these loopholes in history. How could they not detect these?"
Yes, this is the problem. The history of the Evangelical Church is so long, and there have been many unprecedented people. It stands to reason that these problems that Shermans just discovered should have been discovered by them, but there is no such thing in the books of the Evangelical Church.
Recording these feels like it has been deliberately concealed.
"Or, they discovered it, but for some reason they didn't want to tell future generations, or... they didn't have the chance to tell future generations."
Shermans stopped writing. He was afraid to continue writing, as if if he continued writing, some kind of terrible prediction would become a reality.
He can feel, and has always felt, an invisible boundary, a ideological boundary, a cognitive boundary, an unknown boundary. It has always existed, existing in everyone's mind, and imprisoning human will.
.
Shermans was certain that he did not suddenly think of these things because of some burst of inspiration, but that a certain constraint disappeared at this moment, so he could have a glimpse of the taboo knowledge and the hidden truth.
Why is it at this time? Why can I think of this at this time? Isn't that unknown power afraid of passing this on?
Sweat dripped on the paper, smearing the writing that had not yet dried.
Shermans suddenly understood. He slowly raised his head and looked at the darkness of the room in front of him. Shermans couldn't see it, but he was sure that it was there, and he didn't know it yet.
With an expression on his face, he stared at himself quietly.
"I'm going to die, right?"
Shermans asked into the dark void.
This is the only answer. He is going to die, and dead people cannot tell these stories. This is why these obvious loopholes have not been noticed so far. Those who know are dead.
An iron-like curtain shrouds the world, and anyone who exceeds their understanding will face the same ending.
Shermans didn't know who they were, and he seemed to have no chance to find out, but what was certain was that they were related to monsters and the truth of the world. He was so close to all this, and he knew it.
I can no longer go deep into it.
Slowly closing the notebook, Shermans calmly took out the flintlock gun that had been abandoned by the times. Although it had been baptized by the years, it was still usable and was always in a firing state.
This was Shermans' only weapon. He could die, but he would die like a saint.
Shermans raised his flintlock tremblingly and pointed at the hazy darkness. The cold feeling was still there. He knew that the thing was still looking at him. That ghost-like guy might suddenly appear in the next second.
Launch an attack to kill yourself in unknown ways.
The ghost of nothingness did not launch an attack for a long time. After a long stalemate, a faint laughter suddenly sounded. The next moment, the weird feeling disappeared and the thing left.
Shermans still kept his gun raised. He couldn't believe it, but before he could wait for the joy, he was swallowed up by deeper despair.
Behind that darkness came light, pure white and fiery light.
No, he was destined to die, but it was not the weird thing that did it.
The witcher walked out of the darkness, holding a nailed sword in his hand. It was also at this moment that screams rang out from the window. Countless witchers invaded the manor and started killing.