Long-term salvation

"First of all, I don't think chanting spells over a doll is the right thing to do, even as a preliminary experiment for resurrecting corpses and transferring souls. The doll named Willy (Chapter 38) can't be treated as a common phenomenon. Moreover, your method of handling the subsequent situation was too simple and crude. Did you really think that smashing the doll into pieces would be enough? You should have reduced it to ash with the hottest flames, and then whipped it dozens of times with arcs formed by high-voltage current!"

Rhode crossed his legs and tapped Herbert's head with his pistol. After hearing Herbert's timid explanation, he sighed and continued:

"You are very talented, but too arrogant, not cautious enough, and lack sufficient respect for the other world."

"...I thought you would be furious about this, especially after reading my lab report."

"I've seen that a lot. Experimenting on the corpses of a few vicious criminals isn't a big deal, but you're playing with life and death without any reverence. The end result is that you'll be torn to pieces by the corpses you resurrected (the ending of the original short story)."

Rhodes replied unhappily, but he was still a little confused.

According to Miskatonic University's rules and regulations, this kind of problem shouldn't have occurred... Although it seemed like Herbert's negligence was the main cause, there was still something vaguely strange about it:

There are black stone fragments inside and outside the laboratory to build a weak suppression position, which is enough to handle most daily experiments. After being taken out of the laboratory, the fragments of the other world can still have energy activity and are enough to affect the real creations - this clearly shows that there is a problem in Arkham Asylum.

So, after making the decision to "go to Arkham Asylum tomorrow", Rhodes continued:

"At the same time, I don't want you to go down the path of corpse robbing or become a member of the 'Great Enemy'. It would be very troublesome."

"I see, is this my end..." Herbert breathed a sigh of relief. Like the other Michigan students, he already knew of Rhodes's so-called prophetic abilities, so he naturally had no doubts about it now. "But a trouble like mine is only a bullet away for you, right?"

"Finding you and destroying you will waste my rest time," Rhodes knocked Herbert's head with his pistol again. "I don't have that much time and energy, not to mention that it would be even more troublesome if your research was mixed up with Umbrella Corporation."

Hearing this, Herbert reached out to push up his glasses with a bit of pride, but when he met Rhode's gaze, he immediately lowered his head and didn't dare to say anything else. Can you imagine waking up from a dream and opening your eyes to see someone standing in front of your bed with a flaming sword?!

At that moment, Herbert's mind flashed through his past life in which he had not had time to do evil.

"Remember what happened tonight, remember the fear that just surged from your heart. This is what ordinary people feel when facing the other world," Rhodes said calmly, his eyes sweeping across the pale face of the handsome young man in front of him.

"Your emotional absence has given you a tough rationality beyond the ordinary, but it has also erased a bit of your humanity... Don't really think of yourself as anything less than human. Okay, get off the bus now. I hope the falling snow on this winter night will allow you to think more calmly about the future."

"I will," Herbert nodded, and opened the door after the car stopped. Before leaving, he hesitated and said aloud, "I will tell Professor Ellen Halsey (from the same novel) and Vice President Armitage everything."

"It's not hopeless yet. Go back and get some sleep. I'll go to Arkham Asylum myself tomorrow to deal with the aftermath."

"Yes, Mr. Rhodes."

Seeing that Herbert had learned his lesson, Rhode stopped pressuring him and looked at Director Hannibal, who was currently in New York. Although he wasn't far away, he was summoned urgently.

After this incident, Rhodes planned to let Hannibal take the lead in the ethical review mechanism of the Cogito Foundation, and bring in other directors and trustworthy experts in related fields to make professional distinctions. The current review mechanism of the foundation still relies on meetings for centralized discussion and approval. Although it is assisted by means such as live video broadcasts, its efficiency is still too low.

After all, the directors have their own things to do, and those who are less busy aren't all-rounders. It's fine to ask them to do paranormal investigations and archaeology, but reviewing papers and experimental prospect reports is a bit much.

The resulting rigidity and slowness can easily lead these restless geniuses to do stupid things.

After listening to Rhode's thoughts, Director Hannibal touched his chin, thought carefully, raised his eyebrows, and asked tentatively:

"You're putting me in charge, aren't you saying something like, 'Since even Director Hannibal, a felon with a cannibalistic tendencies, can't approve this experiment, then this experiment will definitely have a negative impact on human ethics?'"

"Yes!" Rhodes smiled and gave a thumbs-up. "Wouldn't your knowledge of psychology come in handy right now? Understanding people's hearts and guiding them from good to evil is your responsibility as a director of the Cogito Foundation!"

"...Never mind. I haven't had anything to do lately," Director Hannibal shook his head and agreed helplessly. "But I have a small problem—a federal agent named Will Graham (from the American TV series "Hannibal") is investigating a serious murder case, and the FBI wants my help."

After recalling the origin of this name, Rhode smiled and asked:

"Why, are you still afraid that he will send you to jail?"

"Actually, if he intends to investigate past cases, it's certainly possible," Director Hannibal said, pulling out a small bottle of rum from the car's mini-fridge and pouring two small glasses of rum. "Will's a good FBI agent, skilled in criminal psychology profiling. We can bring him into the fold of the Army Without Borders."

"I see, but don't worry, we can erase his memory with a memory eraser."

Rhodes drank the wine in the small cup and added with a smile:

"Or I could send you to a private prison owned by Atlas Corporation, and then you can keep yourself safe... Hey, don't hit me on the head!"

Chapter 329: The “Patients” in Arkham Asylum (3K)

The next day, when Rod arrived at the main gate of Arkham Mental Research Hospital, the complex known as "Arkham Asylum", the snow still did not stop - the Gothic spires pierced the leaden sky, and the snow slid down the poured bricks and tiles, plowing grooves of varying depths on the stone walls.

The cast iron carved gate slowly opened, and the Army Without Borders guards who came out of the guard room clenched their weapons and looked at the Humvee that drove in with some nervousness.

Passing through the gate, one could see the snowy courtyard, flat as a shroud. Only a cleared passage connected the main building to the outside world. Beyond that, there was only a pale expanse of white, and three or four dark figures were struggling to walk along the high wall.

Glancing out the window at the patrolling guards and the snow piled on the high wall, Rhodes sighed and said to Carl Gallagher, who was driving:

"So, I don't really like coming here. It's too restrictive, yet necessary."

"...Normal people certainly wouldn't like coming here," Carl shrugged and parked the car in front of the main building of the asylum. "But why did you call me directly? I didn't behave well when I first met you."

"So you should be honored by this, Gallagher boy."

"It's an honor, of course. But you had the same attitude when you dragged me to the warehouse in Chicago... Wait, are you planning on asking me to do something? I'm just a new recruit!"

Facing Carl's suspicious look, Rhodes shrugged his shoulders, opened the car door, and got out—he really meant it! After all, Carl had a kind heart and a desire for justice, which was only masked by his sophisticated and slick words and deeds. His experience in dealing with things at the bottom of society and making a name for himself was even more rare.

Carl Gallagher is suitable for the job of a nanny captain, such as leading a [Mobile Task Force] composed of Wendigo, Wendigo's brother, super-powered girls and the like... After all, there must be a "normal human" to deal with the inevitable troubles.

More importantly, Carl is older but not by much, and it would be easier to develop feelings with them if they spend a few more years together - those kids may seem well-behaved, but they are very sensitive inside, which is just right for Carl, who is a bit stubborn but also a bit simple.

"Hurry up and get out of the car," Rhodes said with a smile, as if luring a rabbit into a trap. "We have a lot to do today."

At this moment, Herbert and his mentor, Professor Allen Halsey, were waiting at the gate of the main building of the asylum, and some doctors and nurses were looking in curiously from inside.

After waving his hand to disperse those irrelevant people, Professor Allen Halsey stepped forward to shake hands with Rhodes and led him into the building while saying:

"I've heard about this from Herbert. I'm very sorry. This is also my negligence. I will keep a close eye on Herbert's experiment. In addition, could you please approve more funds and corpses, preferably very fresh ones?"

Can you really supervise this kid Herbert?

"...Please suspend your experiments for a few days," Rhode took a deep breath. He didn't intend to dwell on this matter any further. "Once the Ethics Committee officially begins operations, you can resubmit your report with the project name, objectives, costs, and an assessment of potential risks. Write it carefully."

"I understand."

"As for Herbert..."

Rhode stopped and exchanged glances with the talented young man, who subconsciously tensed up and felt a bit more nervous. After a few seconds of pause, Rhode continued:

"In addition to completing your daily classes, Herbert, you will report to the Miskatonic University library and help Director Armitage organize ancient books. This is a test, but also an encouragement. You understand what I mean, Herbert."

Hearing this, Herbert nodded seriously. He whispered goodbye and ran away quickly, packing up and preparing to go - being able to work with Vice President Armitage to organize ancient books is the most popular thing in Miskatonic University besides ruins archaeology and exploration of dangerous places. It is an honor that only students with sufficient willpower and knowledge can get.

In fact, there were rumors on campus that if one performed well enough, they would quickly graduate and join the [Paranormal Investigation Bureau] (Chapter 210), becoming a paranormal agent, investigating realms beyond human imagination! Death? Madness? Torture? All of this seemed insignificant in the moment of acquiring profound knowledge!

Those who are attracted to the other world and voluntarily enter Miskatonic University are basically potential patients of Arkham Asylum.

Rhodes knew this clearly.

Because of this, he has to keep an eye on these psychopaths at all times to prevent them from blowing up the entire human civilization if something goes wrong... although it's more likely that these guys will blow themselves up first.

After briefly chatting with Professor Allen Halsey about the recent operations of the hospital and its laboratories, Rhode motioned for Halsey to leave and do his own thing, while he and Carl continued to wander around the building.

As a psychiatric hospital, Arkham Asylum still takes on the task of treating patients, but most of them are related to the Army Without Borders and those who have experienced events in the other world.

For example, the two children who were possessed by the devil, the girl (Chapter 213) has completed treatment and returned home, but the boy (Chapter 227) is still undergoing treatment and adapting to his unique clairvoyance ability - in the future he may become a member of Carl's [Mobile Task Force], or he may become a member of the Knights of the Covenant, it all depends on the boy's own choice.

"...That's how it is. What do you think?"

Rhode didn't deliberately hide anything from Carl. After briefly explaining his thoughts and the children's situation, Carl didn't immediately refuse or agree. Instead, he asked with doubt in his heart:

"Where did you gather so many unlucky people?"

Rhodes: “…”

How did I know I'd run into so many poor kids? You'd have to ask my incredibly lazy system about that. And looking at those system tasks, it's clear there are still plenty of unfortunate kids waiting behind.

Without answering the question, Rhodes walked slowly through the laboratory building, carefully feeling the possible dangers - but nothing, nothing happened, as if Herbert's experiment was indeed just a mistake.

"Look, I'm already unlucky enough, but compared to this, it doesn't seem so bad." Carl scratched the back of his head, spreading his hands helplessly, his face full of a funny expression of "I really can't do anything about you." "But, I can give it a try first, just as a way to repay your kindness - can you allow me to quit halfway?"

"Of course, it's not mandatory."

Rhodes smiled and put his arm around Carl's shoulders, but when the two of them walked into the large detention room where Aiden Weaver (Chapter 160) was, the smile on the former's face quickly disappeared without a trace:

The boy named Aiden Weaver had completely recovered from his malnutrition and now even looked incredibly strong—taller than Carl! His entire body was filled with solid muscles from diligent training. Although his face still bore the haggard look of endless hunger and thirst, his spirits were much better than when he first arrived.

But when he looked at Carl, there was still a hint of beast-like madness that craved human flesh and blood, which was chilling.

Not only that, the girl codenamed 11 (Chapters 236 and 263) also played board games with Aiden inside through a window. The former did not touch the chess pieces but was still able to use invisible telekinesis to move the chess pieces.

After noticing Rhodes' arrival, both children smiled sincerely. They quickly came over and talked about the trivial things they had encountered recently, and asked Rhodes if he had received the Christmas card he made by himself.

"Ahem, don't be impatient," Rhodes said with a smile, and began to unpack the gifts he bought yesterday. "One for Little Eleven, one for Aiden, and your brother's gift is here too, remember to give it to him."

As Carl watched the scene unfold, his mind suddenly reminisced about the time he had helped the Army Without Borders agents and earned a large sum of money. He took a few deep breaths, sniffed, and stepped forward to help Rhode unwrap the overly tightly wrapped gift boxes.

Little 11, who was squatting nearby and watching, hesitated for a few seconds and asked cautiously:

"Mr. Rhodes, has anything strange happened in the town recently?"

Hearing this, Rhode's hands paused slightly, then returned to normal, and said calmly:

"Yes, but I dealt with it. Have you encountered anything recently?"

The child occasionally went to Arkham to play for a while, and it seemed that she had made some friends there. Because of this, she said slowly with a sad expression:

"...I feel like my many forays into the otherworld back at that research facility have attracted something. It seems to be following me, coming here, to Arkham Town—the storm is approaching—I suddenly had this feeling a while ago, just for a moment."

In other words, at that moment, the brief burst of energy from the other world caused Herbert to mishandle the waste from his experiment? If we infer from this reason, it is very likely.

"I see. This is quite interesting, but you don't have to worry too much."

Recalling a bit of the plot in "Stranger Things," Rod reached out and pressed his head, trying to sort out those fragmented memories, and then continued to open the children's gifts:

"It seems that your training sessions will have to be brought forward. Once I'm done with your second-in-command, Nyako, I'll take you out to witness the events of the underworld."

When the two children's cheers reached Carl's ears, he could only say silently in his heart:

That's not good.

Chapter 330: Randolph Carter's Confession

What? No, no, no, this is a story I personally experienced, not something I rambled on in my sleep or was drunk. Maybe a drink—Bartender! A shot of bourbon!

Oh, what a nice glass of wine. Ah, I know, I know, people are always interested in stories.

My unknown friend, can you imagine such a world? It is separated from its twin by only a thin veil, the former weak, the latter powerful, and both worlds are filled with countless creatures, influencing each other, pressing and colliding with each other, and every contact brings about grotesque nightmares beyond human imagination?

Of course, there's nothing wrong with following human nature and pursuing power, but that power is built on chaos and darkness, and the more you explore, the more likely you are to fall into madness. The living dead? Ghouls? Giant purple spiders with warts?

Wow, my friend, can you see my raised hand? Your imagination needs to go a little higher.

Imagine a monster with smooth whale-like skin, an elongated humanoid body, inward-curving horns, leathery bat-like wings, and a barbed, whip-like tail. More importantly, these monsters have no faces; where a face should be, there is only a symbolic blank space.

Such monsters haunt various parts of the universe, serving ancient gods or guarding huge volcanoes in fantastic dreams, which are far taller than Mount Everest, with immeasurable height and length.

Why do I know so much? Of course, it's because I've been caught by them before, right in my dreams. They grabbed me and tickled my flesh—hey, don't make that expression, you're basically saying, "This idiot in front of me can't even tell a horror story properly." But there's a reason for that—these monsters use all sorts of nasty actions to make the other party anxious and uneasy, making them feel at a loss and unable to break free, and finally falling into madness little by little, falling into the most terrifying abyss.

Yes, my luck has always been either good or very bad, I have not been eaten or thrown to death by them, just like a falcon would take its prey up to the sky and then drop it.

And so, they took me to a valley where giant worms lived. Worms? They could move around in the earth's crust thousands of meters deep, but that didn't matter.

The important thing is, at this... Hey hey hey, don't go!

“No one wants to hear your story, writer.”

The bartender wiped the glass with a not-so-clean rag and said the last word in a mocking tone. He put the glass back on the counter and added:

"Perhaps only after you die will people realize the value of your work and say that you are the most influential horror writer of the 20th century."

"That sounds good too. At least someone besides my friends will remember me."

Randolph Carter muttered, straightening his tie with his hand before downing his drink. He was wearing a long black trench coat with a slightly larger gold pendant on the side of his collar. The pendant had a round lighting device in the middle, and he wore a Boller hat of the same color on his head.

A black umbrella was leaning against his feet. The mud spots on the umbrella and the surface of his leather shoes, which he was too lazy to wipe off, made people frown - but in this tavern on the edge of the city, no one would care about such a small matter.

Unlike those travelers, the writer who called himself "Howard Phillips Lovecraft" was carrying a black violin case in addition to a suitcase containing necessary daily necessities.

"Speak something others can understand, writer," the bartender reached out and rubbed his neck, which had turned red due to long-term alcoholism. Under the dim light, it took on an unhealthy color, just like the other customers who came here. "What are you doing in this bar? Have a drink or wait for someone?"

"Waiting for someone and having a drink."

Carter tapped the glass with his fingers, signaling the bartender to add another drop. Then he watched the amber liquor swirling in the glass, filtered through by the light, casting a shadow on the solid wood bar like a deep-sea whirlpool.

"Waiting for someone, huh, even a weirdo like you has friends."

"Of course!" Carter raised his eyebrows, his facial muscles tense with obvious displeasure. "My friend is a very interesting and upright man - his experience is also very interesting!"

Next, the bartender heard the guy sitting outside the bar telling a story about a savior who had several lovers. But unfortunately, the bartender was only interested in why the latter was liked by so many girls.