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墨書 Inktalez
Time passed quietly amidst the busyness.
Unbeknownst to them, the hours slipped away.
After three hours, the helicopter's speed began to decrease.
"We've arrived." Russell glanced out the window and recalled the circumstances of their nighttime operation.
The others leaned over to look outside, leaving Freyr silently seated in his chair.
He wiped the Crimson Sun Sword clean, cradled it in his arms, and slid it back into its sheath. He quickly fashioned a simple cord and tied it to the edge of the sheath.
This way, he wouldn't have to hold the sheath in his hands, making it easier to carry on his back for mobility.
"We're beginning our descent. There may be some turbulence; this is normal. Please remain calm and avoid moving around to prevent any potential dangers during an emergency landing," the pilot's grumbling voice echoed through the cabin.
After a while, everyone returned to their seats, fastening their seatbelts as they awaited the moment of landing.
After a considerable amount of turbulence, many felt their stomachs churning as if their food was rising up. The effects of weightlessness were taking hold, and despite merely sitting in a helicopter, they experienced this reaction, which instilled a sense of fear regarding the heights that modern technology had reached.
If they had been a bit more courteous to the pilot, perhaps he would have chosen a smoother approach to the ground.
However, those who became helicopter pilots often lacked certain qualities in their character.
In the cockpit, an older pilot reviewed the safety operation manual personally.
Inwardly cursing that it was a book meant for beginners, he tore the safety manual into pieces and tossed it out of the window.
He tried his best to force the landing in a more difficult area.
If someone were sitting in the co-pilot's seat watching his reckless actions, they would surely curse him as a madman.
But among these two planes, who wasn't a lunatic?
Mad Researchers, even knowing that they might never return, were determined to make breakthroughs in the Biological Field as Pathological Biologists.
A group that faced death head-on, unafraid of the Grim Reaper's threats—this was the Suicide Squad.
They treated danger like a scoring game in an amusement park, reveling and frolicking within it, seeing themselves as Agents of Justice. No, they were God's Abandoned Pawns.
Abandoned pawns view the world with indifference; they have come to see life as less important than anything else.
With a bottle of whiskey and a self-deprecating Tobacco Cigar lit for a deep drag, they appeared as if possessed by divine intervention, slaying gods and blocking Buddhas.
As for the Hunters, they seemed to lack professional spirit.
Although most of the trouble originated from their actions, at such times, the vast majority of people were reluctant to bring it up.
Even if it wasn't their fault, no one believed it was theirs.
In those moments, even if a different group were present, they would still make the same mistakes.
Those ghostly creatures remained a mystery; ultimately, this was not about who was right or wrong.
The helicopter landed.
People returned once more to the place where the nightmare had unfolded, standing before an abandoned Farm.
After setting everyone down, the pilot waved his hand and said, "I hope you can achieve your goals."
Then he hurried back into the cabin with a series of thuds.
The noise of the helicopter's rotor blades filled the air, creating a powerful whirlwind as it gradually took off.
Many turned to look back, and after a while, the aircraft disappeared into the distance, becoming a small black dot against the horizon.
Gazing at that dot, they couldn't help but wonder if they would ever return.
However, after much contemplation, survival became the most pressing matter at hand.
The long-abandoned Farm.
More than twenty people entered to search around, and soon enough, they all emerged.
"We didn't find any clues."
A researcher from Western Europe shook his head in disappointment. He had been enthusiastic when he first entered the Farm, but as he stepped out, his face and demeanor reflected a sense of loss. He was the last to leave the Team.
It seemed that apart from disappointment, it was hard to read any other emotion on his face.
Others didn't even want to approach him; their purpose for coming here was to investigate the truth behind the disappearance of the first two Search Teams.
Although they had found and killed that monstrous perfect being, everyone harbored a Thought in their hearts: that creature was undoubtedly linked to the disappearances.
Yet, despite their search, no one wanted to encounter it so soon. Who knew if it was already lurking in the shadows, targeting them?
By then, the lost might no longer exist; they needed to think about how to survive.
"Not discovering anything is a good sign; it means this area is safe."
Russell hurried forward to offer comfort, but Western Europe shot him a glare and slowly walked past him.
"Don't forget what we're here for."
"I certainly know why we came here," Russell shook his head.
"Your purpose, besides killing it, is to ensure the safety of our researchers. Moreover, the most important thing is to gather all its data—serum, DNA—and ideally, I want to understand its habits and everything else."
Bainam, with a serious expression, stepped in after observing the two for a moment. "We need to set up camp now and stabilize our situation. Let's contact headquarters and see if we can report back about what's happening here."
"Hmph, do as you please," Western Europe scoffed before turning away.
"This one isn't an easy person to deal with," Russell sighed.
After a while, both sides became busy with their tasks.
On the other side, the four researchers were getting along quite harmoniously as they helped organize the tents.
Among the fifteen members of the Suicide Squad, in addition to assisting, they also had to take on guard duties.
After surveying the surrounding buildings, they set up a series of equivalent N-linked landmines.
As for infrared surveys, thermal spectrum detection devices, life detection instruments, and so on, they were all installed in the house at the Abandoned Farm.
The Hunters assisted in searching for other clues and returned to the large pit where they had previously battled the Broken Back Flame Centipede.
"Hmm, strange," Freyr said, gazing at the corpse lying in the pit.
"It is a bit odd. This Flame Centipede didn't die like this before."
"I remember it was previously cut into pieces, almost dead, but how did its skull end up looking like it was smashed with a blunt object?"
"The Target seems to be close to the hardness of Synthetic Diamond; it would take several cutting machines working together with multiple blades to achieve that. Could it really be smashed into such a pulp with a blunt object?"
"Theoretically, a laser could cut it neatly, but to cause this level of destruction with just one blow—there are no other overlapping penetrating injuries on the wound."
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