"Medic? Where is the medic? ！” Thirty-three shouted, "Someone needs help! Damn it, didn’t any of you see him? ！”
Still people answer
These soldiers not only can’t see or hear the fallen soldier, but also can’t see or hear 33 tones.
Everyone is like a clockwork puppet, keeping a posture and moving forward.
Looking for traces of medics in the crowd of thirty-three, he soon found something even more frightening.
In this team of more than 20 people, he not only didn’t find a medic with a Red Cross armband and a Red Cross logo printed on the side of his helmet … He also didn’t find a "special post" soldier.
All the soldiers are carved out of a mold. They wear the same clothes, hold the same weapons, keep the same posture and walk the same steps …
Even their armband numbers are the same.
The armbands are clear and not as fuzzy as their faces. Each armband has the same number BHL177.
This is the dog tag number of the 33rd Field Corps.
Every soldier here is himself.
Chapter one hundred and ninety-five Sequela of brain injury
"How did that happen? How did this happen? " Thirty-three eyes are wide and constantly mumbling and asking themselves.
Not all the soldiers wore his clothes and hung armbands embroidered with his army number-the soldier who was convulsing on the ground was different from others. Thirty-three wanted to see his armbands, but found that the numbers on the armbands were as fuzzy as the five senses of these soldiers … In a second, this fuzzy visual effect had spread to the soldiers’ bodies, and one could barely tell that people were huddled together like those mosaic harmonious pictures in the news picture.
"What’s going on … what’s going on …" Thirty-three felt indescribable fear coming from his heart. He didn’t know anything, but he didn’t feel that there was something wrong with these strange sights. It seemed to him that all this was very real and alive.
The fuzzy shadow distorts it, does not keep its human form, but suddenly swells up, just like an adult emerging from a cocoon and pupa.
Aft that deformed figure split from it, a monster with an indescribable size many time larger than the original figure got up from it.
It is not that thirty-three people can’t find the words to shape this monster, but that this monster is shrouded in a fog like the previous figure.
The indescribable monster is coming towards thirty-three. It seems to be saying something to thirty-three. Thirty-three can hear those whispers like talking in a dream, but he can’t tell the difference between gibberish … The more he listens, the more his head hurts, as if it were going to crack …
"Go to hell!"
Thirty-three finally threw away the last trace of reason and pulled the trigger on the assault rifle in his hand-
But thirty-three didn’t feel the resistance of the trigger, and the gun didn’t ring. He looked down at what was the assault rifle in his hand, and it was a bloody broken arm!
I don’t know when the surrounding wasteland became a sea of fire, and the smoke covered the sun, and the choking smell kept drilling into the 33 nostrils. Those silent soldiers have become fragmented bodies at the moment, and some people even have their whole bodies crushed. Looking from the sky, they look like a tomato falling from a height and patting heavily.
The sight of corpses everywhere made thirty-three forget to breathe. He looked up and looked at the middle-
The ship that sent them to this place has long since disappeared, and several reconnaissance planes circled and soon flew higher and farther, and the sky disappeared into thirty-three fields of vision.
Thirty-three knows that they have become abandoned … No, there are no more of them, only himself.
He’s a loser. Nobody cares if he lives or dies.
"Shout … shout …"
Thirty-three shoveled panting and looked up at the monster who came near. He lost his arm, pulled out his waist army hand axe and roared at it.
He has been determined to die, but this indescribable monster doesn’t seem to be strong, so it’s easy for thirty-three to bully himself into the crowd and wedge the sharp axe blade into the monster’s body
It’s strange to cut off the axe, just like cutting into a mass of high-density cotton wool. The erratic feeling makes thirty-three feel very insecure. He tries to send the axe blade forward and wants to cut it deeper. Since the monster’s body surface is made of this kind of cotton wool-like substance, there should always be something in the core.
Chop it to death! Cut it! Chop it!
Thirty-three wanted to continue to exert his strength. A tentacle covered with pustules was thrown out of the monster’s body, and his abdomen was pumped out, and then he was slammed to the ground.
Thirty-three heard the sound of his own bone breaking, but at this time his pain seemed to have been stripped out, and the body seemed to be different from himself. He neither knew which bone was broken nor felt the pain.
Anyway, physical activity is not restricted … Thirty-three jumped up from the ground again and rushed to the monster with an axe.
……
……
"It’s endless …" Koran looked at the front, and if it was crazy, it kept dodging, blocking his attacks and those pervasive black flying blades-if it was dragged on like this, it would be either 33 exhausted or its own defense was hit by a black flying blade in the head … The brain is the only key for Koran. If the brain is damaged, it would be in trouble …
"Trouble" here means not death, but something that makes Kelan fear more than death.
Just in the dogfight, a black flying blade successfully passed through Koran’s defense net and cut a mouth along the edge of the skull. The tip of the blade penetrated the bone, ligament and fascia, creating a half-inch deep wound on the side of Koran’s brain.
The wound healed quickly, even the damaged bones grew up immediately … But in just a few seconds, Kelan always felt that something seemed to be missing and something more in his brain.
Some trivial things on weekdays were forgotten by him. He couldn’t remember when the inaugural God Hunting Group dinner was held and who attended it … The figures of Hound, Asano Zhao, Zofija and others also became a little blurred in his memory. Besides, his fighting skills became rusty. Many times, he should have prevented the attack and missed it because of deformation. He was left with more wounds by the black flying blade himself.
This is not because of exhaustion of Kelan’s physical fitness. He won’t be physically overdrawn after fighting with such intensity for more than ten hours … He just "forgot"
Not only the brain has forgotten, but also the muscles have forgotten the slashing and blocking movements, forgetting the power skills … The cold sappers shovel always makes Ke Lan feel flustered, and the original comfortable and comfortable feeling can’t be found back.
What’s even worse is that there is a "substitute" instead of leaving a hole in this part of the memory.
It’s as if there are hundreds of people muttering to themselves in Kelan’s head. Kelan can tell that they are alphabets, but those sentences are fragmented and cannot express complete words. These whispers are like the meanings of "e" and "ya" when babies learn to speak … they are completely worthless.
Ke Lanji can be sure that he has become a truly immortal body. Even if the brain is destroyed, the brain tissue can still be restored … but the more restored parts, the more things he forgets. Those meaningless whispers and chaos will fill his mind.