Alien Knights

In the southeast of Yuexi Plain, there is an inconspicuous village. There is no big difference between here and hundreds of other villages on the plain. Simple villagers, muddy paths, low bungalows...

But deep underground in this village, few people know that a huge pothole formed naturally existed here thousands of years ago.

Along the artificially dug shaft, descending to the depths, the temperature gradually decreases, and the space becomes wider, and the headquarters of the "Relief Society" gradually reveals the whole picture in the depths of the pit.

"President, Experimental No. 56 is dead." A man in a gray robe and apron walked up to Theodore carefully, and said respectfully.

The old man stopped what he was doing, put down the pen and paper, and motioned for the other party to take him to have a look.

Walking in the damp and dark corridor, the light of the torch on the wall flickered on and off. Even wearing a thick mask, the man could still smell the stench that seemed to come from hell. He quickly glanced at the president of the Relief Society next to him. The other person's expression was as usual, and he couldn't see anything unusual, which made him secretly surprised.

The two came to a heavy iron gate, and Theodore signaled the guards to open the gate.

The sound of "squeak, squeak, squeak" slowly sounded, dull and ear-piercing.

The man glanced at the scene inside the door, his heart stopped, and then he pinched his thigh hard, and followed the president in front of him and walked in.

The word "hell" is used here to describe it, which is the most compassionate way of saying it.

Thick iron chains, huge iron cages, terrifying screams, dozens of monsters stitched together from residual limbs, were locked in cages on both sides of the cave. They scraped the stones under them with their hands and feet, and hit the solid iron cage with their bodies. Blood and saliva sprayed on the ground, forming deadly poisonous bubbles like strong acid.

The members of the "Relief Society" who were in charge of guarding were divided into several teams. A team is responsible for guarding and suppressing these "Heirs of the Undead". They have a strange bone whistle hanging on their chests. Once a monster is found to be overactive or self-harming, it will blow the bone whistle vigorously. The whistle has no effect on the human body, but it can make these terrible monsters make a sound like a rattlesnake's tail from under the skin on the back, and then calm them down or enter a faint.

Another team member was across the room, working as pickers. In the inclined chute on the mountain wall, from time to time, "fresh materials" processed by the "slaughter house" will fall into the iron bucket for collection. For these remains from human beings, the main job of the pickers is to select and classify. Part of the high-value "successor" or "heterogeneous" limbs will be tagged and sent to the "melting furnace".

The last team, on a raised stone that looked like an operating table, placed the selected body parts together, stitched the remains together into a complete body with needles and threads, and carried it into a strange sarcophagus, which was soaked in black liquid.

The man accompanied Theodore to an iron cage. The monster in the cage collapsed on the ground, the muscles and bones of the whole body were slowly dissolving, and the red, green, and white disgusting liquids were mixed together and flowed everywhere along the cracks in the ground.

The man flipped through the book in his hand, and read word by word: "Experiment No. 56 has been smelted for twenty-six days. It used the bones of the successor and fourteen other corpses. It planned to inject seven kinds of alien abilities "poisonous blood", "regeneration", "speed", "sharpening of limbs", and "screaming". Four of them were actually successful. Three days ago, there were dullness and weakness.

Theodore's eyes looked at the monster in front of him, as if he was in a state of concentration, without any movement.

After a while, the old man suddenly asked: "In this world, the first person who discovered fire, would he have thought that in the future, human beings will not only use it to cook food, but also use it to burn their own kind?"

"Ah?" Listening to the other party's words, the man couldn't understand how the president who was obsessed with research in the past would suddenly ask such a question.

Theodore's face was full of doubts, and he whispered: "At the beginning, I gave up staying in the capital, chose to part ways with those three people, joined the "Presbyterian Church", and tried to end all disputes with the results of research. Is it right or wrong?"

The man looked at Theodore's face and asked cautiously: "President, what should we do with this experimental subject?"

The latter glanced at the cage, left a word, turned and left the hall.

"Burn it. 』

Back in his underground laboratory, Theodore watched the locked door being opened from the inside, and looked at the figure in the room with a gloomy face.

"Without my permission, who gave you the guts to enter my room?!"

The larynx wrapped in a black robe ignored Theodore's roar, instead he found a chair and sat down, looked at him and said, "Master President, I think we need to talk."

"Talk?" Theodore laughed angrily, "Why do you think you are qualified to talk to me?"

Throat Bone glanced at the manuscripts and manuals on the table, and sighed: "Are you still planning to hand over the results of our decades of research to the Muxi Knights?"

Theodore hammered the table with his fist and roared, "We?! That's my research result, you're just my assistant at best!"

Throatbone stood up from the seat, knocked the chair down with his body, and raised his voice by three points: "You should know! Many people in the Relief Society lost their families because of the persecution of the church! If you tell them that we want to join the Muxi Knights of the church, what will people think?!"

When Theodore heard this, he froze in place, and the anger on his face slowly faded.

He found a recliner and sat on it, and the eyes looking at the larynx softened a little: "I still remember that when you were rescued from the prison of the Inquisition, you were only 7 years old. Your parents and sisters who are heterogeneous, under the repeated torture of the church, would rather violate the teachings, and chose to commit suicide to get relief. And you, without food and water, lived in the cage for thirteen days. When we met, you were like a puppet, sitting in the prison In the pile of corpses, rats have been bitten all over the body, and there is not a good piece of meat to be seen..."

As if recalling the purgatory memories of the past, the corners of the eyes of the larynx twitched, and he took two steps closer to Theodore: "President, you and I live in a dark, desperate world that eats people and is eaten. If you want to survive? Then you must have the power to rival the darkness! Entrust everything about yourself to others, and hope for the pity of others. Sooner or later, this kind of behavior will only make us become food for others!"

Holding up the manuals and pages on the desk, with endless enthusiasm in his eyes, he said to Theodore in a strange tone: "Do you know what I have in my hand? These are the steps leading to the gate of heaven, and the scepter to become the ruler of the world! As long as we can perfect the technology of "Successor of the Necromancer", the "Relief Society" can change the rules of the world and rule all kingdoms! We... can even become gods!"

Theodore opened his eyes wide, watched every move of the larynx, and finally shook his head: "You are crazy."

There was indescribable disappointment in the eyes of the larynx. He reluctantly put down the book in his hand, and his face returned to calm: "Master President, I have a last question. I asked it a few days ago, but I still want to confirm it with you today."

Theodore gave each other a cold look.

Throatbone smiled and asked, "Did you really never think about joining the church?"

"I said it! No!" Theodore raised his right hand, pointed out the door, and said loudly: "Now, leave my room immediately!"

The throat bone nodded slightly, saluted, and walked out of the room.

Walking on the road, he took out a handkerchief from his pocket, opened the layers of fabric, and lay a small half of letter paper that hadn't had time to burn in the innermost part.

On the letter paper, other handwriting has long been burnt yellow and blackened, only the inscription is still faintly visible.

"Your sincere old friend, Cardinal Aberle K. Bothwell"