The woman paused for a mont and said in a deep voice, "You won’t suddenly explode into an indescribable mass of flesh and blood after leaving here at so point."
"You don’t belong here."
"Your soul is like a torch in the dark, constantly attracting so unknown eerie ancient beings."
Shawn laughed.
"Explode into an indescribable mass of flesh and blood?" He reconfird.
"Yes." The woman nodded calmly, leaving no room for doubt.
Alright.
It seems to be true.
He seems to have traveled across worlds, reincarnated into a young man who has just died, two souls’ mories are slowly rging, so of the fused knowledge is erging in his mind.
It seems he has crossed over into an absurd and bizarre world.
This is undoubtedly a Hellish beginning.
Shawn’s brain is no longer idle; his mind is functioning, mories are rging, thoughts are becoming clear, and reason is returning.
"Soul Resonance." Shawn tried to understand the strange characters on the wall.
He was looking for clues.
— "What is firmly rembered will have a resonance."
The woman’s voice sounded, she whispered: "A branch of ancient Elf language. Left by a master of the Third Epoch; she too was a descended soul from an Otherworld, from a very distant land, Avando."
"Avando?" Shawn murmured to himself.
It seems there are quite a few travelers who have co to this world.
But it seems they aren’t fellow countryn.
"I think I might not make it through this corridor alive." Shawn sat down, looking at the deep corridor ahead, smiled, looked up at the woman beside him, really beautiful, like a flawless doll, he took a deep breath, felt around himself, then sighed: "He’s watching ."
"I can feel it."
The bloodstained Angel, Lord of Shadows, has been attracted by him.
Right in the corridor of Soul Resonance.
Under the curtain of Shadows.
He seems to have no ability to resist now, according to what the other said, without passing through the corridor of Soul Resonance, he could explode into an indescribable mass of flesh and blood at any ti, and even by passing through, he might still be devoured and parasitized by the ’living Knowledge.’
That brain-chewing Knowledge!
Just once was enough to leave Shawn with a psychological shadow.
"Very few newly descended Otherworld souls attract such ancient beings as the Lord of Shadows."
The woman was silent for a mont, whispered: "The detective Morty Laine does not exist in the real world; he, or rather, the mysterious words that compose him, the living Knowledge, only appear under certain circumstances."
Shawn raised his head and spoke with a condensed voice: "Under what specific circumstances?"
"In your past life, you were a writer. Morty Laine loves to devour writers’ brains. Those lively brains that create fictional characters can give him inspiration; the crazier and more absurd the thoughts, the hungrier he becos, using the writer’s body as a shell, entering the real world from the void." The woman’s voice was sowhat ethereal.
Shawn shook his head and said: "I’m not."
"Not considered one."
He just read too many novels during university and casually wrote so bizarre supernatural stories, hardly counts as a writer.
Moreover.
Is everything in this world so dark?
Fictional characters from novels also turn into such eerie, terrifying entities?
Past life mories are being awakened, though still in a state of confusion, Shawn has recalled many things and can confirm that the world he has crossed into is very, very terrible.
The woman pondered for a mont, whispered: "Then there’s only one possibility left, your inspiration is too high."
"High enough to see them."
"When you see them, they see you too."
"This is a gift."
"Also a disaster."
Shawn mulled over her words, muttering: "When you see them, they see you too."
"So... Can I close my eyes?... "
The woman’s expression was slightly stunned; the beautiful doll-like side of her face appeared a bit dazed, soon shook her head: "No."
"You’re not using your eyes to see them."
Upon hearing this, Shawn sighed, stared into her eyes, and said with a bitter smile: "So, am I almost dood?"
The woman nodded calmly: "You could say that."
"Ordinary people have a hard ti resisting Morty Laine’s corruption; he is a creation of the Lord of Shadows, close to Angel Rank’s Evil Object."
"Direct confrontation is almost certain death."
Shawn looked up and asked: "Evil Object? What’s that?"
The woman spoke softly: "An Evil Object is an indescribable falsehood, a sore on the rotting Earth, an aberration of flesh pollution, the world’s hatred and pain..."
"All polluted Ascenders eventually degenerate into Evil Objects."
Great.
Another piece of good news.
"Is there anything to eat?" Shawn thought for a while and asked.
He’s hungry.
Living, brain-eating Knowledge, great, this is interesting; he also wants to eat so food to fill his stomach now.
"Yes." The woman was still observing him.
This is the second Otherworld soul she has interacted with; she must submit everything she assesses to her ntor.
The ntor must also be watching here.
A piece of bread.
"Thank you." Shawn reached out to take it, took a bite, quite tasty, hunger makes anything taste good; he’s very hungry now, his body has fully recovered, the hunger makes him feel a bit weak. He looked up at her face, that beautiful, unrealistic, doll-like exquisite face, and asked, "Have you died?"
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