SWDnovel Chapter 48 The Weather is Nice
Chapter 48 The Weather is Nice
Five minutes later.
Angus kicked away the blade in front of him, shoved the man towards another servant lunging at him, then lifted his toe off the ground, kicked up the first fire poker that had fallen to the ground, grabbed it in his hand, and pushed it forward with all his might—
The sharp end of the fire poker pierced the throat of the knife-wielding man with his back to him, and without stopping, it pinned the enemy behind him to the wall!
However, due to limited manpower, the enemy could not be killed this time. The detective used his body weight to press down the corpse and the enemy, pulled out his pistol with his blood-stained hand, roughly aimed, and then pulled the trigger without thinking.
boom!
When the two still-warm bodies in front of him finally stopped moving, Detective Angus's knees buckled, and he almost collapsed onto the carpet, exhausted.
He looked around at the chaotic corridor and cursed angrily, "Damn it, this is never going to end! How come there are so many people?!"
No one could answer his question. Norman and Eileen were busy dealing with the hairy monsters, one using magic and the other using physical attacks, and they barely managed to fight the monster to a draw.
Most of the officers were wounded. The Viscount's servants were well-trained and fearless, and although they hadn't expected Scotland Yard to launch a night raid, they displayed remarkable organization in a short period of time.
This is the consequence of aristocratic private armies combining with fanatical cultists.
After this confrontation, both sides are feeling physically and mentally exhausted.
However, the Viscount's mansion actually had the upper hand because they still had an absolute trump card that they hadn't used.
That is, the alien species on the wall!!
It was Viscount Hammond's trump card for hunting down the Viscountess and the guests who came to the salon!
For some reason, this alien species has only been lying on the wall so far without making any big moves, but even so, its existence still brings great psychological pressure to people.
Norman would look up and glance at it every now and then.
As if worried that the membrane might suddenly fall off, it wrapped itself up like a pitcher plant catching flies.
Just now, during a break in the battle, Eileen described to him the "production process" of the black-haired monster in front of them—it was originally a man named Roland Douglas who had been abnormally corrupted.
However, just because he glanced at the alien creature through the peephole at the basement entrance, he was "eaten" by the flesh membrane.
Faced with imminent death, Douglas's body underwent an irreversible mutation.
Driven by his survival instinct, the countless hairs on his body grew rapidly, eventually "hollowing out" his body before the fleshy membrane could devour Douglas.
Thus, a young man named Roland Douglas, who simply longed to find a job so he could go to the circus, died in extreme fear and pain.
When Eileen arrived, she only saw a monster that had pierced through its flesh membrane with its fur and crawled into the middle of the corridor.
She had originally intended to save someone with a knife, but now there was no need to save anyone. She stabbed the victim directly and then ran away.
……
After hearing the details of the accident, Norman couldn't help but have the same question as Eileen.
How on earth did Viscount Hammond manage to feed a mutant to such a size?
Is it really possible for humans, with their flesh and blood, to defeat it?
Even the strongest person, once given such a thought, would feel a pang of hesitation. For a moment, Norman thought of Dinah Lovecraft, his wife, who was still waiting for him to return. He could not die here no matter what…
Give up, run away, we are so insignificant and weak, we have no hope of winning.
In that moment of hesitation, the black-haired monster, whose offensive had slowed down, suddenly launched an attack!
The jet-black limb, made of countless tangled stiff hairs, sliced through the air, carrying a nauseating, sour stench, and swept past Norman's nose. He could feel the stinging sensation of the coarse hairs scraping against his skin. The old professor fell backward in terror, his back slamming heavily onto the ground, his clothes instantly soaked with cold sweat.
"Damn it!" I'm never doing fieldwork again! He gasped for breath, nearly dropping the silver-plated spike in his hand. Ignoring the cold sweat on his face, he shouted to Eileen, who was looking at him with concern, "It's a mental attack! It's black hair... no, it's the fleshy membrane on the wall! Try not to look directly at it!"
Eileen nodded, gripping the dagger tightly, ignoring the pain in her hand caused by the intense impact.
She glanced at the seemingly calm, enormous alien creature on the wall out of the corner of her eye, and the heaviness in her heart grew stronger.
This mutant's size... has probably even exceeded the scope of "Viscount" and is gradually moving towards "Earl".
Viscount Hammond will never be promoted in his lifetime, but the mutant he raised has already passed away.
Thinking of this, Eileen smiled wryly.
She then recalled that, according to the Birmingham Chamber of Commerce's internal files, dealing with this level of alien usually required at least three senior investigators, adequate weaponry, and meticulous planning to have any chance of success.
Now, all they have are exhausted officers and a nearly exhausted Norman.
A rational analysis clearly shows that this battle is doomed to failure.
Eileen's gaze swept across the chaotic corridor, landing on the group of tireless servants, and finally looking into the depths of the dark corridor. At this moment, she stood here, her only hope being Winston Wheeler.
Before this, she had never imagined that she would place her hopes on the prime minister.
With the Queen's oracle, can he foresee the current crisis and reverse the inevitable defeat before everything becomes completely irreversible?
then.
Just as everyone's will was about to be crushed by despair, the air in the corridor suddenly froze.
The viscount's servants, who had been fighting the police officers without feeling any pain just a moment ago, suddenly stopped moving.
Inspector Angus saw their pupils dilate, and a look of terror, as if they had seen the most terrifying thing in the world, appeared in their eyes, just like the expression of the ancient people living by the sea on this continent when they first saw the ancient god emerge from the water seven hundred years ago.
Immediately afterwards, a series of ear-piercing sounds of bones cracking rang out. The servants' bodies snapped backward at an unimaginable angle, their eyeballs rolling out of their sockets under intense pressure, and black blood gushing from their mouths and noses.
Some people fell to the ground in a daze, instantly ceasing to breathe, while others, under the influence of an unknown gravitational force, floated up slowly, defying the laws of physics, smashing the glass along the corridor with their broken limbs, and flew into the crimson night outside, as if suspended by silk threads, heading towards the red moon until they disappeared from sight.
This scene deeply shocked everyone. Whether they were police officers, investigators, or occultists, they all held their breath and dared not move.
Strangely, the black-haired monster opposite them did not take the opportunity to attack. Instead, like an intelligent being, it showed a kind of fear and contemplation, and took a few steps back.
After a while, light footsteps sounded from the other end of the corridor.
In the darkness, a huge, pure white silhouette slowly emerged.
The Viscountess appeared before the people, dragging her heavy but not bulky body and her asymmetrical eight legs. Her porcelain-white, hollow face was full of great love and gratitude for the world.
Her five arthropods and three human limbs struck the ground in an alternating pattern, producing distinctly different sounds, while in between, another footstep could be heard.
Winston followed behind the White Spider, holding up the Viscountess's elaborate and ornate nightcap with perfect poise. Compared to the disheveled crowd, he was the only one who truly looked like someone who had just stepped out of a banquet.
Because the turn of events was so dramatic, everyone stood frozen in their direction like tombstones. Seeing this, Winston hesitated briefly before asking in the tone of an English greeting, "Nice weather!":
"Are you all alright?"