After he and Enjie reached an agreement, Yukio Mitamiya finally stepped onto the floor of the building for the second time. The path through the garden seemed deserted. The grass in the garden around the path was originally green, but strangely, it did not have a unique smell. He walked through it and into the hall, where the light was on.
Not a sound could be heard. The fluorescent lights did not reflect the perfect surface of the beige walls and floors, but there was not a corner or corner of the whole place that was not illuminated. When Mikiya last came here, it was still morning, and he felt a mild uneasiness. But this night visit was different. The building seemed to be filled with a suffocating silence. Every step he took would produce an echo: After a minute, it was almost inaudible. In less than a second, the sound disappeared without a trace. Now, the silence was creepy and oppressive, almost as if the weight of the body made every step of the three palaces seem heavy. It was as if the building had recognized his foreign nature and was trying to expel him.
Even so, he had already made up his mind. He could not give up now, especially when someone was counting on him. He passed through the thick air and through the hall.
"I think I should start on the third floor," he murmured. He decided not to use the stairs because using the elevator might attract more attention and let Enjō do the work he needed. So he pressed the " up " button next to the elevator door and heard the low whistle of the machine starting up. The light on the door indicated that it had come down from the fifth floor. Soon, the door began to open silently, in stark contrast to the noise just now.
But even as the elevator doors began to open, Mikiya could already see that there was someone inside. Before he knew who it was, he wolfed down his food and took a step back.
"Ah, you're here. The timing was also very suitable. "I was just about to visit your master's sanctuary," said the man in the blood-red coat, a smile slowly spreading across his face. He staggered out of the elevator, holding something in one hand. His attention was completely focused on it, and his expression was between fear and joy. Mikiya looked at it, only to find a disgusting lump popping up in his throat. But he could not take his eyes off it.
"It's perfect, isn't it?" the man asked mockingly. "I think it's got me completely.”Now, when he showed off the items in his hands, he obviously smiled happily. But Mikiya still couldn't take her eyes off it.
This was because the man in red was holding Aizaki's head in one hand.
Terko's head was very well preserved in its state. The flesh still retained a certain warmth of life, and it looked unchanged from when it had been alive. They closed their eyes in their sleep, and the unsullied face looked as if it had come straight out of a painting, as if she had returned to some purer state of being. Of course, she had lost everything below her neck.
Covering his mouth with one hand, Mikiya tried to fight a losing battle with his urge to vomit, but everything didn't go well.
"You're here to avenge your teacher. Aizaki Shun must have inspired your loyalty to such a lowly acolyte, causing you to be so vexed. To be honest, it makes me jealous." The smile on A Erba's face seemed to be twisted, as if it was an excessive smile for the sake of performance. "Obviously, your mentor has left us. But he had not completely left. Oh, no. She still had ears to hear, nerves to feel, and a brain to understand. This was a kind of pity, he was sure of it. I have done many things to destroy this woman, and I intend to express my gratitude to her. No, I will at least let her hold on for a while longer.”
He walked closer to the three palaces, dragging and stamping his feet with every step, intoxicated in his victory. "Why, you might ask?" he hissed. "Because after many years of failure, it feels refreshing to finally make her better. Killing her would be an insult to all the time before this moment. It was a better action that she deserved. She would have to feel pain. Oh, don't worry, friend. She had lost her entire body. She has a more serious problem." I'm sure there's a lot of problems that need to be solved besides a little bit of pain.”
Then, A Erba gently placed the fingers of his other hand on Toko's face. Then, with two fingers, he suddenly pushed them into the two eye sockets. When he took out the familiar eyeballs from the now opened holes, he squeezed out the fresh blood. Toko's cheeks were bathed in red tears. Separated from its master and soaked in its own blood, its eyes now looked different from Mikiya's. There were only two pieces of ball-shaped meat. A Erba reached out a hand and held the eyeball toward the third palace, indicating for him to hold it.
"You see?" The man in red shouted half-crazy. "It must have hurt, but she didn't even make a sound! But don't worry, because she still feels pain like we do. Her thoughts told her. Aizaki has always been a stubborn person, but I want to know how she feels about having her eyes dug out. Does it hurt, Aizaki? Obviously, this is enough to make you bleed.”He shifted his attention from his head to Mikiya. "You! What do you think? You are her apprentice, so you must understand her feelings. Hmm? Can you?"
Mikiya did not answer him. This scene was enough to numb him to doing nothing, let alone thinking about anything else, except how to deal with the scene in front of him and how to survive this encounter. A Erba looked at him and smiled, affirming his satisfied expression.
" However, in fact, I wanted her to suffer not only pain, but also the shame of being reduced to her current state. It didn't matter. No matter what, I can do better, but I need you.”He looked back at the three palaces again. "I want to know, as you sit there, helpless and unable even to scream, how you would feel if the things you built, cherished and cared for were destroyed right before your eyes. If it were me, I definitely wouldn't be able to bear it. Even if he didn't kill the person who did it, it was enough. Can you see it now, Aosaki?" He looked back at Turk's head. "I hope that you, a person who doesn't care about me, will feel enough hatred and want to kill me. This is the best revenge I can hope for. Although Araya stripped me of my role, stuck my arm deep into your chest, and dug out your heart, I still deserve this opportunity!”
As he continued to converse with the severed head, he suddenly grabbed it with both hands and turned his attention to Mikiya. "When I found out that Aosaki had a disciple, I was very happy that I couldn't control myself. Ever since we met, I've been watching you. The curse wasn't on me, but your mentor who allowed me to know you. Ah, but don't worry. You won't go to hell with her yet. Although I said that this head is still alive, we have already reached the point where we have to make a small adjustment first.”Adapt-
He grinned as hard as he could. Then, with a great force, he clamped the severed head between his hands and squeezed it hard like a vice. In just a few minutes, Aizaki Shunko's corpse was compressed, and blood gushed out from the cracks in his skin from A Erba's powerful grip. In the end, it was crushed into a pile of unrecognizable flesh and blood that fell to the ground.
"-Tada! Now she was dead! This is magic!" Then, the red-robed man laughed, filled with the vitality of the once quiet hall.
Yukio Mitamiya recorded it without saying a word. The disgusting image kept appearing in his mind, burning away any feelings or reasons he still insisted on. He didn't think about where to go and walked straight to the hall of the east building. He couldn't remember the last time he went there, nor could he remember the details of the room. In fact, this was his greatest effort to not scream.
"I think it's time to end this performance!”A Erba shouted from behind him. "Don't worry! You'll catch up soon!" His laughter gradually faded away, and he began to follow Mikiya at a leisurely pace, his hands swinging by his sides, blood and flesh dripping on his body.
The sewers were winding and complicated. Without any light to guide him, only the endless stream of sewage reminded him of the passage of time. Tomoe was wandering in the wet passage. Fortunately, Mikiya gave Tomoe everything he needed, including a map of the sewer infrastructure and a flashlight. In the end, through these, he successfully arrived at the place where he should be. Above him was the manholes he needed. He turned off the flashlight and leaned the duffle bag against the wall, careful not to be carried away by the dirty water. He pulled a crowbar out of his bag and climbed up the ladder steps embedded in the sewer wall to a height he could not be sure of.
Tomoe's head hit something metallic, which was the sign he needed. He used one hand to feel for the gap where he needed to slide the crowbar, and then carefully inserted the hook into it. Finding a buyer, he pushed the gap even wider. Then, with all his strength, he pushed with his shoulder until the lid finally loosened and rolled on the floor with the hard metal gong. He stuck his head out of the parking lot and found that the entire parking lot was equally dark. He was very satisfied. Tomoe went back to retrieve the bag, then got up and threw it up first. Next was Xiang Qingxia's sword, and finally himself.
There was no light to guide him. He stopped for a moment and listened to the sounds around him. A strange feeling crept into his body. There, even though he was sneaking around, he did not notice his threat. A feeling of complacency. Although the parking lot was spacious, coupled with the darkness, Tomoe should have a good reason to feel comfortable in this feeling. From somewhere nearby he heard the sharp hiss of steam echoing through the vast emptiness.
"The sound of steam?" he muttered to himself, recalling vague things he thought he had abandoned. This special darkness and the smell in the air were well known to Tomoe. What was worse was that they were very familiar with each other, as if they had just stepped into their own home.
His bones ached, as if in response to the familiarity, and their trembling voices were amplified by his brain, repeated over and over again. He studied his perimeter again, and this time he found the light of a distant lighthouse, a warm orange light beckoning him. When Tomoee saw it, he suddenly felt hot, as if his mind had just caught up with the true temperature of the room. His feet pulled him closer to the orange light in the center of everything, and he began to hear the faint hiss he had heard before.
As Tomoe went deeper into the room, his eyes began to adapt to the darkness. Along the wall beside him were large jars, but he could not see the order in which they were arranged. The floor was littered with long, narrow pipes that led to an unknown place. However, not a single soul let anyone know of its existence. Now, Tomoe's only accompaniment was the sound of steam rising and water boiling, and these two sounds grew louder with every step toward the center of the room. These two voices echoed in Tomoe's past limitations.
He did not say anything. He walked with heavy steps, which was equivalent to the sudden weight of his body. He was close to the limit of his stamina. He was now closer to the glowing spot, and could now see where it was coming from: A hot metal plate. Every once in a while, a certain amount of water would be poured on it, boiling it, instantly turning it into steam and floating on the ceiling. According to Tomoe, the ceiling itself was filled with a series of complicated pipes. These pipes absorbed the steam and guided it into the containers on both sides of the room, connecting the steam through these containers. The respiratory system.
When Tomoe saw this scene, he couldn't help but laugh nervously. His curiosity led him to the conspicuous display jar. There were countless of them, each about the size of a head. Although Tomoe couldn't see them yet, he noticed something floating in the formalin solution in the tank. Finally, he saw them. The brain. The human brain.
The pipes he had seen on the floor before were the same as the ones on the ceiling. Their lengths were distributed throughout the room, but they ended up connecting to a tank, which eventually went up through the ceiling of the underground parking lot. Tomoe thought that it might be connected to all the other rooms in the apartment building.
" It's like a cheap horror novel," he said calmly with a smile, and walked along the edge of the wall. He should have thought of it long ago. It was impossible for the people here to live every day of the month in the same details as yesterday. This would only arouse the suspicion of the outside world, because anyone who looked too close was obviously not what Alaya wanted to see. Instead, they would have small changes and details that changed every day. However, most of the day developed in a similar spiral. A moment to wake up, a moment to eat, a moment to play, a moment to work, a moment to die and live again. For this, they needed them to be alive to a certain extent. Although Tomoe found it hard to imagine what it would be like to have a body activated by a remotely stored human brain, this was exactly what he saw in front of him. Every day, these souls were forced to live in a closed loop of impermanent death and uncertain rebirth, living only to die at night, experiencing the separation from the soul and body. If Tomoe had ever seen hell, it would be a special hell: A prison of the soul, designed to be a crude replica of life, missing the point and repeating the same dream until the sleeper could not distinguish between dream and reality. It was just like the nightmare that haunted TomoeeEnjō every night.
Tomoe gently brushed his fingers on the cold surface of one of the jars. "Ah... I see now," he muttered, as the jar chilled his arm. At that moment, he heard a voice. No, it was not a voice. It was more like a form of communication consciousness, emitted by objects. Did he imagine it? No matter what, it only conveyed one thing.
Please save me.
Tomoe giggled, even though his mind was filled with distractions. After all, what could he save? Did it want to return to its original form, or did it want to escape the cycle it was trapped in? No matter which method, it was an impossible task.
"I've proven that all I can do is kill," said Tomoe, amused by his irritating, unpleasant observation. "Besides, even I want to be saved. The problem is, I don't know where I want to be saved from. It might be better, because even if we extend the meaning of the word, it will not save me in the end. From the very beginning, I had the urge to kill Boiling. Now, I had already passed the critical moment of saving him.”he said almost apologetically.
Now, Tomoe began to rummage through the scattered jars on the wall, trying to find the one that curiosity and logic told him he should be able to find. Nothing was stranger than its existence. Mage Araya did not kill anyone to obtain these brains for his sick experiment. He only harvested them after their masters did these things to each other. That was why the source of Tomoe Enjō's repeated dreams or the reality of what happened half a year ago should be somewhere in this pile of stuff. Sure enough, in just a few minutes, he found the jar he was looking for. He didn't want it to exist, but everything pointed to it, and now, he didn't know how to feel.
He stroked the mirror tenderly, a twisted smile on his face, as mesmerized as one would be when one saw his twisted and wrong side in front of the mirror. In the end, the evidence was placed in front of him. He thought highly of himself. Two tubes extended from the inside. One extended up to the ceiling, but the other was cut. A faulty machine, an abandoned piece of equipment, was thrown out of the comfortable and safe rules it was once familiar with.
At this point, almost hinting, a sharp voice broke the repetitive sound of steam. Tomoe looked at its source: Since yesterday, his left elbow was the most painful part of his body. From there, he looked down and saw what was making the sound. His left arm, from the elbow to the fingertips, fell to the ground.
He had never felt it fall off. Blood red liquid seeped out and dripped from the newly torn limbs. He looked at the inner cavity of his arm and found that the things inside looked like skin and bones. There were also moving objects that looked like gears and gears. They ticked, louder and more ceaselessly, like an annoying clock, and their voices were strangely familiar, almost comforting. It was a voice he had heard on many occasions before. Tomoe heard the ticking sound, as if some ancient memory, such as his other name, proved his true identity: The man who killed his mother to avoid nightmares and danced under invisible strings, running away from his actions in shame is
"…I…"
Tomoe's mind went blank. He could not stop himself from kneeling on the ground. He giggled quietly and privately, but then it turned into a maniac's laughter that echoed across the empty parking lot.
" This is ridiculous," Tomoe said with difficulty. "From the very beginning, from the fucking beginning, I was already a liar.”
He could not think of anything else. It was only the revelation he had always known to some extent that filled him with a self-deprecating laugh he could no longer suppress.
'This is all nonsense,' Tomoe thought. My…my family and I had no chance of avoiding that tragedy, even if we had to repeat the same damn act a million times. We can't change the outcome of all this. We are all fakes manipulated by Araya. He knew that I couldn't do anything, so he told me to run.
His arm kept dripping, and everyone's mind was filled with countless ethereal voices calling for help, all of which were irritating. It made him lose his focus. A maddening noise forced him to slip away from the solid truth he had just learned, the truth he had long sought: Everything was a lie. In despair, he approached the glowing metal plate in the middle of the room, his voice growing louder by the second. He lifted his torn left arm and pressed it against the surface of the hot metal plate.
Tomoe let out an animal scream, a guttural sound of incomprehensible pain. The stump of his left arm hissed and smoked. The blood stopped flowing and the wound was burned. The ticking sound gradually disappeared. The voice slowly faded away. The pain pierced through his entire arm, as if it had stimulated every nerve in his body. But these were only precious moments. Then, he lifted his arm from the metal plate. There were traces of burnt flesh on the edge. He might have gone crazy. But at least for now-he had found his resolve and remembered the real reason for returning to this crazy place.
Tomoe was breathless and sweating profusely. He desperately searched for the elevator and finally found it in a corner of the room. The light indicated that it had stopped on the first floor. He pressed the " up " button and pressed the machine. He examined the knife in his pocket carefully, then raised it over the shoulder of his good arm and walked in. He looked back at the room that had challenged him. The room was now filled only with the disturbing regular sound of water and steam hissing, otherwise it would be covered by complete silence. Except for those sleeping, dreamy souls wrapped in the praise of life, no one would hear the last moments of a person who was about to die here.
Which is the true spiral: the unchanging life or the never-ending life? This building was a machine wrapped in infinity. In there, even death was not a permanent setting. You can do it for free the next day. This was a perfect cycle. I wonder if my mother would still kill me if this cycle was flawed? Would I still kill my mother? This was an impossible question. That would not be the same life. This entire place was built on the basis of the deaths of others. Without these, this place would be meaningless.
However, how I wish that there was a contradiction in this spiral.
He made an impossible wish but did not answer. Tomoe felt his whole body screaming in the last hour, but he still managed to press the button to take him to the tenth floor.
Mikiya Kokuto was running as fast as he could, running faster than he could breathe. He seized the opportunity to turn around to see if A Erba was following him. Finally, he found that his feet had led him into the East Wing Hall, and he stopped.
Dead end? he thought suspiciously. As expected, other than the stairs leading to the balcony on the second floor, there was no other choice but to ask where he came from. Stopping here and realizing that A Erba was not following him as closely as he had when he had fled gave him the moment to focus.
Damn it, why did I stand up in such a panic? Though he thought he was ready to face anything they might throw at him, he was clearly not ready to face the head of the friend he had just joked with yesterday, who was being destroyed right in front of him. Relatively speaking, my way of handling this matter is similar to others. Even so, his knees were still shaking, not only because of nervousness, but also because he had to run at a speed he was not used to. He had to press his knees with both hands to calm them down.
Now, I need to think of a way to get rid of him. He quickly scanned the hall and turned in all directions. As he did so, he heard heavy footsteps coming from the corridor he had just passed through.
This was terrible. Mikiya started running again, but this time she was calmer. He had nowhere else to go, so he made his way up the stairs, but he had barely climbed three steps when he heard a sharp, piercing noise that lasted less than a second. Almost at the same time, his feet lost their strength on the floor, and for some reason, his feet lost their strength, forcing him to kneel on the stairs. He reached for the railing and tried to use it to help himself up, but failed. He slid down to the first floor and then fell down the stairs. Soon, he looked at his leg and realized that there was a dark red stain on his pants, spreading from his knee down. They had been impaled by something behind them, and he was now watching with a detached air, as though he were examining another man's knee. He did not feel any pain. Not yet. The adrenaline worked its magic, so the wound felt hotter instead of painful.
"Relax, young man. We can't let you break your neck falling down the stairs, can we? I have a plan for you. Fortunately, the spell was only enough to stop you, not make your knees split at the seams.”A Erba walked over with his arms spread open, giving a sickly welcome.
Mikiya said nothing but tried to climb the stairs, though the wound had caught his full attention. No matter what A Erba said, blood gushed out of the wound as fast as spilled drinks. Slowly, though he did not realize it, Mikiya's consciousness was losing. "You are a magician, a summoner, or an acquaintance who is very similar to your mentor, aren't you? Then call your pet out, or you will feel ashamed for not being worthy of being called a mage.”Alba frowned when Mikiya did nothing.
"Yes, I am. It seems our dear Aizaki isn't as good a mentor as I thought. However, my expectations of her did not decrease because she had many such shortcomings. The story of how she gave herself a title was one such example. Odo gave the title of Color to the mage they thought had the most potential. I know that 'ao' means 'blue' in Japanese, just like her surname. Aizaki hopes to obtain such a position, such a highest honor. But Odo did not think she deserved such an honor, and instead gave it to her sister, who was considered the legitimate heir of her family, and took everything from her. Aizaki entered the academy to surpass her sister in art, but even here, she failed. Ironically, Allie was given the title of " Red ". But because the "Tō" in her name means orange, I think it suits her better! It was a color that could not be compared to her red title. It's perfect!"
Alba walked to the foot of the stairs, and the steps appeared faintly above the motionless Mikiya. There was a satisfied smile on her face.
"Fortunately, you and your mentor met in the same place. As Aizaki's apprentice, I thought you would be enjoying yourself. Alas, you are nothing but a disappointment.”He knelt beside the Third Palace and slowly extended a hand to his face. In contrast to A Erba's leisurely movements, the Third Palace's arm suddenly began to move.
" Wow!" A Erba's surprise only lasted for a moment. But this was the only time Mikiya needed to take advantage of. His upper body moved, and a hand reached out from below, waving the silver knife hidden under his jacket. This was Aizaki Teko's silver bottle opener, brought by Miya just in case, but he thought he would never need to use it. Now he closed his eyes and pushed it toward Alba.
This was the first time in his life that he had any intention of murder and actually carried it out. This was a strange feeling to him, so he closed his eyes to avoid seeing the whole thing directly. The solid feeling in his hand told him that the knife had hit…something. Of course, he knew that the man in red was unprepared and cursed, but he was interrupted. It was impossible for him to dodge an attack at such a close distance.
Hopefully, he didn't cause too much damage. Mikiya opened her eyes. His fading consciousness blurred his vision for a moment, until it became a coherent picture... Alba's outstretched hand loomed in front of him, the knife deep and straight in the palm of the same hand. His smile was brighter than ever.
This was just a small moment of doubt for Mikiya. However, an hour had passed.
" You're such a bad child for doing such a thing to me." A Erba spat it out mockingly. "It's only interesting when someone loses an eye.”As he spoke, he extended his other hand to Mikiya, this time in a hurry. He grabbed Mikiya's face, held it tightly, lifted it gently, and threw it down the stairs. The back of Mikiya's head made a dull sound from the impact. Without losing any time, he lifted Mikiya's head again and smashed it down again. Again and again. Again and again. Every time, he repeated the same phrase.
"Interesting, interesting, interesting!”Each of them was accompanied by the same dull banging sound, and these two sounds echoed in the vast hall. Mikiya let go of the knife in her hand when she lost consciousness. In the end, even his breathing became lighter and more desperate. At this moment, A Erba finally stopped and stood up.
"Ah, how painful. This pain will make me cry. I wanted you to live, but I don't think you'll be ashamed of it.”He drew the bloodstained knife from his hand, as if brushing away a leaf, and nodded in agreement with himself and his words. "Well, I do believe I've accomplished what I came here to do. Although I had a brief interest in Alaya's little experiment, I did believe that I should return to Germany. You see, the air here in Japan is not good for me,"he said to Mikiya, who was motionless. A Erba turned around and left the corpse. He started walking toward the corridor that led to the central hall.
But before he could do that, he heard something he did not expect. Another set of footsteps echoed from the same corridor. His voice could be recognized by the high-pitched waterfall. In fact, he had only heard it yesterday.
"Impossible."
However, he did not have time to think. Soon, the source of the footsteps appeared in the hall, dragging a large box. Now, just like before, Aizaki Shunko was blocking his way.
This book comes from：m.funovel.com。