This is an almost empty room. Only the walls on both sides of the room have mural-like textures. The wall facing the door is blank and has a smooth texture like a mirror.
The gray color completely filled the whole room, with traces of rust from time, but it was definitely not the accumulation of dust or the fragmentation and reorganization of something, but the disappearance of something deeper. This is a strange feeling, like a spotted mushroom that only grows where the dead are buried appearing in front of you, or like a scene in a dream that is quickly forgotten when you wake up, and completely disappears after waking up.
"It's too empty," Okfa's voice was deep. "It seems like this was just an empty room."
Agnes did not speak, her eyes quietly looked at the blank wall facing the door. The wall with a mirror-like texture reflected a gray-black shadow, but due to the dark background, it was impossible to see the shadow's face clearly.
She looked away and looked at the wall on the left, a vague feeling of familiarity rising from the bottom of her heart.
In addition to the hacking-like patterns that continue the characteristics of the Fourth Age, in the corner of the wall, two rows of twisted but meaningful patterns came into Agnes's eyes, as childish as those of children. joke.
The row on the right looks like several different eyes, mixed with several branches that seem to be put together to block them, while the row on the left looks like wrapped internal organs, as if connected to pipes.
“The eye cannot see it, but the heart can see it.”
The meaning of the twisted pattern naturally emerged in Agnes's mind.
She turned her eyes away and looked at the wall on the other side.
The patterns on this wall look much more regular, as if the vigorously growing weeds and dead bone-like patterns are strangely put together, separated by opposite wing-like patterns.
"Neither life nor death."
The implications came to Agnes' mind.
“Those patterns in the corners look like they’ve been around a little longer than the chop patterns,” Anderson whispered. “They look like they’re one with the walls.”
"This is the discovery of an excellent painter with professional appreciation." He paused for a while and added aloud.
Agnes looked up at him and raised her eyebrows.
"It would be more convincing if you said, 'This is an excellent sculptor with professional appreciation.'" she said aloud.
"It's a pity," Anderson said, spreading his hands, "I'm just a painter."
Agnes did not continue on this topic. She stared closely at the blank wall, her eyes lingering on the faint shadow reflected on the mirror-like wall.
"I once heard some rumors that people in some places regard mirrors as a kind of portal to another world." She raised her hand and moved her fingers closer to the wall that reflected her own shadow, a gray-black shadow. There is no change in the posture, and it looks like it is just a pattern painted on the wall.
Agnes' eyes stayed on her fingers, and only the shadow she could see emerged on her fingertips. They were flowers that had no color and had completely rotted to the point where only their skeletons were left, with an almost sticky touch.
"A rotten desire."
"Perhaps this person has experienced that kind of strong impulse that almost no one has experienced, but in a wider time, the desires of mortals always rot and deteriorate like their bodies buried in the soil, leaving only the remains."
Her fingers stopped when they were almost touching the wall, and she took two steps back. The gray-black shadow on the wall shrank little by little, and seemed to be moving away from the mirror a little bit.
"...It's a bit scary." Anderson swallowed exaggeratedly and whispered.
"If you treat this wall as some kind of extraordinary object, maybe you will relax a little?" Agnes said with a smile.
"I believe that no one can relax when faced with an extraordinary item whose effects and side effects are unknown," Anderson shrugged, "especially an extraordinary item that may have been involved with the gods."
"I agree with that, but..." Agnes spoke up.
She shrugged and looked towards the corner. Spasnerecki was standing in front of the wall at some point.
"Perhaps Mr. Spasnerecki has a different opinion?" Agnes said softly.
"It is said that living corpses use their lairs to guard the rivers that lead to unknown places." Spasnerecki seemed not to have heard Agnes's words, and his hand had already touched the deep color. The wall, "The end of the river abandons all the impulses of the dead..."
Vague black shreds quietly appeared in Agnes's eyes. She saw a wave of gray-black pouring into the shadow in front of Spasnerecki, and then following Spasnerecki and sticking to the wall. The palms of his hands poured into Spasnerecki's body.
His skin was almost visibly dry and loose, and it looked as if everything inside had completely disappeared. The palm attached to the wall looked like it was just a leather sheath, and the skin at the tiger's mouth seemed to be able to stretch up to the knuckle of his little finger. at. His eyes completely lost their human color and turned a strange greenish color, as if a large amount of blood had been deposited in an instant. All his hair almost lost all color in an instant, and became as dry as weeds.
The gray-black mist dissipated almost like a spurt along the wounds left on his body, and then condensed little by little, finally forming a statue in front of the blank wall whose face could not be seen clearly, wearing a large cloak, and Anderson according to his own The last exploration experience was exactly the same as the one in the church shown in the picture.
Agnes saw the guard who had been controlled by her rush towards the statue almost desperately. The indescribable flames in his eyes jumped and expanded, and finally almost ignited his entire body. It should never be like grease on such dry fuel. A slight hissing sound like burning reached her ears, and she felt a heat as if she were touching burning coals.
An almost blinding light radiated from the guard's almost burned body, radiating towards the statue and both sides, looking like an intertwined light curtain door, and the burned remains of the guard seemed not far from the statue. The place was piled up, completely unable to move forward, and it looked like a mound where the dead were buried.
The statue's broad cloak took on a strange color under the almost blinding light, but disappeared in the next moment without changing.
Agnes turned her gaze to Anderson. She saw Anderson's eyes widening in disbelief, staring at Spasnerecki, or something else. The unknown fear was almost completely revealed through his expression. come out.
"Sure enough, things have changed."
Agnes saw Spasnerecki turning around with a little bit of pride, and said in a voice that sounded much hoarse. If it weren't for his dry and loose facial skin slapping against the fabric of his clothes, it would have seemed like everything was normal. .
"Is this what you saw before?" Spasnerecki turned his head, and the inside of his body creaked like broken glass. His eyes that had lost their human color looked at the walls on both sides and the chopping-like chopping on them. Texture, "What a beautiful crystal window."
"Of course," Anderson's voice was slightly hoarse, "This is what I saw last time."
