Bizarre Detective Agency

   Chapter 633 Two hundred and ten. The return of the heroes

Snapped-

   A crisp applause echoed around the bunker.

  O'Brien put down his palm, his axe-carved face pursed his lips, and looked around: "Count the number of people. Witcher, O'Brien."

   As if the switch called sound was turned on, the sandpit was occupied by the sound of coughing, unscrewing the kettle, and breathing heavily.

   "Knell Byrne, the slayer."

   "True Sight Night's Watch Norbert Harrington."

   "Exorcist Alex Brand."

  The people in the bunker spoke one after another, and it was the last one's turn. He spat out the sand, his voice dry: "Copeland, Senior Investigator."

   The sound of rushing running came from the bunker, and a figure slid into the bunker from overhead, raising a large piece of sand.

   "Don't worry, we still have at least three minutes." O'Brien said to the person who broke in suddenly: "Sentry, what did you find?"

   "The oasis is very close to us." The embarrassed man called Sentinel lowered his head and panted heavily. "Probably less than a mile."

   "Did you see clearly?"

   "Of course." The sentry raised his head, revealing a terrifyingly dark left eye.

   "Did you see it then?" asked O'Brien again.

  The sentinel shook his head: "But I feel it, right in the oasis."

   "Here's this for you, little investigator." O'Brien took a notebook from his inner pocket and threw it to Copeland. "We are already very close, and it is foreseeable that the ceremony of getting closer to it will exist seamlessly, and it is necessary to keep quiet throughout."

"Find it, destroy it, this is our only task." O'Brien looked at Copeland who was rushing to catch the note: "Copeland, you have an extra task: record the information. If we fail to solve it , to ensure that the information can be sent out."

   Copeland lowered his head and opened the crumpled brown notebook.

  【Its ritual scope is expanding, every day. There were no survivors in a small town three hundred miles from the oasis when we entered. Talk nonsense, it may not be long before it will become the third disaster]

  【The good news is that animals will not be attacked when they make noise, only humans will. At least it won't turn into a dead place where nothing exists. Strange though, if we were sitting on a horse, the rattle of the horse would be counted on us because we drove the horse...? 】

   The handwriting in the next paragraph has changed.

  【The dude above is Keiran Cullen, I am Richards without last name, and I am a new user of this notebook. Obviously users will consume more pages than this notebook, so I suggest that latecomers better write who they are. If we succeed, we will all become famous, and if we fail, we will be pioneers]

  【The closer you are, the longer the ritual time and the shorter the gap... Maybe it will be full of rituals for 24 hours before we get close to it]

   Copeland quietly read the messages of the former owners.

   In addition to their findings, there are also sad regularities in the notebook itself.

The further back the    is, the faster the handwriting changes and the shorter the content.

  【I am Mikael Reid. No surname Richards guessed right. We are ten miles away from the oasis, which has turned into a perpetual night like winter in North Randshire. A brief, pitiful gap interspersed with the long ritual time]

  【I am Little Henry, the previous owner of the note died before he got it. I felt compelled to write about the former owner, Quinlan Price. From a spiritual point of view, the person who holds the note usually doesn't live long, does that mean this is a cursed note? 】

  【I’m Troy Mack, and I’m about seven miles away from the oasis. If the next owner sees this message, please go to No. 33 Benin Street, King Allen and tell my wife and daughter me]

   This line came to an abrupt end, and the following content has been changed in handwriting.

  【I am Ubuli Kalam, Wuli. There are two other owners ahead of me, they didn't leave the content, unfortunately I can't know their names either. No new information, I am writing it just hoping someone will remember me]

The   notes are only a few pages long, and the rest is blank. Copeland has turned the corner.

   Copeland looked up at O'Brien, who was arranging, and picked up the pen to write the new content.

  【I am Copeland...maybe the last owner】

  【We are one mile outside the oasis, and the interval here is only seven or eight minutes. I think until entering the oasis, the ceremony will exist seamlessly...]

   He wanted to write more, but O'Brien made a gesture to suppress his voice: "The time is running out, then keep quiet and do it as planned."

   Copeland put the notes in his pocket, while the exorcists, who had rested for a few minutes, climbed out of the sandpit, oil lamps, and their only horse, quietly walking towards the distant silhouette in the coming night.

   Copeland pressed his palm on the note through his clothes.

   They died worthless, meaningless.

  These elites should be investigating and solving weirdness everywhere, not as consumables, dying on the way to that **** oasis.

   But—if they don’t come, who will?

   Those civilians?

  click—

   There was a clear sound in the silence.

  The exorcists looked in the direction of the sound, O'Brien's feet, his boots sunk into the holes.

   There used to be an old riverbed, covered with damp sand to form an empty shell.

   O'Brien opened his mouth, an obscure murmur suddenly sounded around him, and the next moment, his figure disappeared.

   There is no time to grieve and sigh, the surviving exorcist who has seen this scene many times continues to move forward.

  O'Brien arranged everything, even if he was dead.

   A hundred meters outside the oasis, Norbert Harrington stepped on a dead branch hidden under the sand.

   Entering the oasis, Kernell Byrne stepped into the bushes.

   Approaching the village in the oasis, the stones mentioned by Alex Brand hit the dead trees.

   Outside the village, the sentinel staggered and stood silently under his feet, but the oil lamp in his hand swayed and made a creaking sound. He only had time to turn his head, blood and tears streaming down his weird eyes to say goodbye to Copeland.

   This land seems to be occupied by silent evil gods, and any noise will be judged as heresy.

  Before the dusk was about to disappear, Copeland finally walked into the village and saw the evil spirit known as the third scourge...a thin silhouette hanging from a dead tree.

   Copeland silently described what he saw in his notebook, put it in the rucksack of the horse he followed, and watched it gallop, disturbing the land but leaving unharmed.

   Withdrew his gaze, Copeland put down the oil lamp and walked towards the dead tree with the figure hanging, the outline became clear.

   Then he heard a heartbeat deep in his chest.

  …

  Two hundred miles away from the oasis, people in the town are eagerly waiting for the return of the human hero, the expedition team.

   In the middle of the night, a brown horse emerged from the darkness and rushed into the town.

   People recognized it, gathered around it, and someone opened a rucksack.

   Inside was only a crumpled brown notebook.

   (end of this chapter)