In the endless void, Harris was swaying without knowing where to stop.

In the world of his senses, where he was almost a disabled person, it no longer mattered whether it was real or not. He could neither see nor hear, nor touch nor smell.

But a certain feeling that transcended matter and acted directly on the soul and cells gave him guidance.

It is an indescribable perception, the signal is intermittent and obscure. In the face of this feeling, ordinary human laws, interests and emotions are invalid and meaningless.

Only a maddening, heart-piercing disgust comes from the body. It is not only a thorn next to a flat fingernail, but also an abscess on a smooth face. It is not only a neat wall with crooked wall tiles, but also a thorn when going out.

I have endless associations with door locks.

Every part of the skin, every hair, and every cell is howling and crying to leave this place. Even if you sell your soul to the devil, entrust your body to the butcher, and throw your life into the River Styx, you must use the fastest speed to get rid of it.

Save yourself from this horrible world.

"Uh...ha..."

Harris made a desperate sound. He repeated it countless times, and the breathing movements that had long been integrated into the body's instinct were abruptly interrupted by the body's rejection reaction. One breath of air was stuck in the trachea, as if stuck in the throat.

But Harris knew that this was the best preparation he could do.

By closing his five senses, he turned himself into an empty shell like a walking zombie. The terrifying fluctuations, disgusting sounds, and crazy scenes from the outside world could no longer harm him.

Originally, only the blind who were born deaf, the deaf who had never opened their eyes, and the most stupid madman were lucky enough to enjoy a quarter of an hour of freedom here.

In addition, any human being who stays here for a while will be overwhelmed by the disorderly and ugly sight, and then howl wildly, falling into the abyss of chaos, and the soul can never return to the body.

Even so, the desperate screams of the body's cells are instincts that transcend instinct and reason, overriding all conditioned and unconditioned reflexes. If this terrifying existence had ever appeared in the original universe for a second, then this world would be nothing but madness and

Chaos can never be anything else.

That is the natural enemy of all ordered things, the ultimate disaster that befalls the material world!

"The ultimate disaster..."

Harris was crawling in the chaotic space, not daring to make a sound. He controlled his limbs, breathing, and heartbeat, and even the thoughts in his mind were forcibly cut off by him, causing severe pain and howling in his cells.

Here, you enter into a state of nothingness without self or awareness.

"The effect of the medicine is almost here..."

"I'm going to hurry up...imagine a..."

"Holy Seal..."

Harris's mind was like the ocean contained in a giant bowl, without even a single wave; it was also like the deep black sky on a canvas, clear and dustless. Then, he began to outline a strange symbol in his mind.

That symbol has existed for longer than historians imagine. Maybe the great apes drew such a pattern on the ground when they saw the moon for the first time and roared; or maybe on the day when the great flood receded from the continent, someone painted it on the mud.

Draw a graph like this.

From then on, it spread all over the tribal totems, sailors' masts, barbarian tattoos, and religious orders' books, until it was enshrined by the Holy Spirit Church and became a symbol of salvation and was widely circulated.

Perrin's potions have never been said to take effect slowly and recover slowly. The effectiveness of these potions suddenly retreated like the sea water, revealing a coast full of holes.

But this retreat was as rapid as the ebbing tide sign before a tsunami.

As soon as the holy seal in Harris' mind took shape, he felt countless noisy sounds, broken pictures, exciting smells, and majestic pressure coming all at once like a mountain.

The moment he opened his eyes blankly, in the infinite darkness before him, there was another indescribable thing taller than a mountain, wider than the sea, vaster than the planet, and farther than the Milky Way, lurking, following his gaze,

Opened my eyes...

…………

"Browning, you are a coward."

He is just an ordinary person. He grows up in an ordinary way, studies in an ordinary way, and lives in the world in an ordinary way, but this label of cowardice has been firmly nailed on him before he knows when.

Even he was confused as to when he had become such a submissive person, even though he had done nothing?

Or maybe it's because you didn't do anything that you became such a submissive person?

All in all, just as Browning appeared in front of others obediently, he also accepted the arrangement of fate and walked on the road of life.

But life often involves joking with people who follow the crowd.

The more this kind of people go with the flow, the more they will be left at the end of the flow, losing the ability to control themselves, drifting in whatever they want, which is the best nourishment for the rolling trend in the world.

And those who can control everything must be those who lead the trend. Such people will always appear in the political, business, scientific, and medical circles, and they will also appear in front of Browning.

This is very reasonable.

At some point, Browning was at the mercy of fate and stood on the opposite side of a trend-setter, entering into a state of war between two armies.

The opponent was determined to develop, fought steadily, and relied on war intuition that was beyond ordinary people to quickly seize the initiative on the battlefield.

Browning's side, on the other hand, was in decline, making foolish moves, and should have been eliminated strategically and tactically long ago.

In the end, Browning became a prisoner of war.

There is nothing wrong with being a prisoner of war. Browning thought so, squatting and digging on the ground in the prisoner of war camp every day, trying to find extra rations such as worms and rats for himself.

However, as a coward who surrendered his gun without resistance, Browning had the lowest status in the prisoner of war camp. He was soon sold to the trust group and began his career as a miner.

What follows is running away, running away, running away again, failing, failing, failing again.

When he came to his senses, he was already an old man who was about to die. He had neither children nor friends around him. He claimed to be a national historian, but he was more like a moth in the old paper, only daring to use those old stories.

The past events in the old man’s account feed his curiosity.

Knowing that he would not be a good parent, he chose to send his children to continuing school early in order to evade his own parenting responsibilities. His children would never have imagined that the majestic and cold father in their eyes was just a complete failure and a coward.

, and surrendered to everything in the world early.

He thought of the pioneer years that could barely be called stable and beautiful, and tried his best not to think about those memories of utter failure, nor to recall the old friends who often lingered in his dreams.

The sky was so blue on the day we left. I really want to see it again...

"I've been running away all my life and I'm tired."

He pursed his toothless mouth, struggled to ring the bell beside him, and summoned the servant waiting outside the study door.

"Write a letter to Harris and ask him to come back..."

He hesitated for a while and then ordered.

"Follow the number on this piece of paper and dial a number..."
Chapter completed!