Moreover, he had already gathered plenty of information and vaguely formulated a theory, but no matter what, he needed to survive this perilous second night, otherwise all his speculations would never be put to the test.
Changes had already begun in the room.
About fifteen minutes ago, some static noise started coming from the television. It wasn't dialogue from the program that was playing, but rather some old-fashioned music. The lyrics were unclear, but the tune was completely out of sync with the room, creating an inexplicably awkward feeling.
But it was still noon, so no substantial phenomena occurred. Shiller had some snacks and fruits prepared by the hotel, drank some water, and napped on the bed for a while.
When he woke up, it was nearly dusk, and the anomalies in the room were more obvious.
The television was no longer showing programs but was looping a certain clip, the music growing louder and reaching a grating level.
The curtains in the room had disappeared at some unknown time, and the piercing light of dusk shot straight in. The reflected light from all objects intensified, turning the whole room almost into a golden birdcage. It was filled with dazzling brilliance, making it hard to open one's eyes.
Outside the window, the sound of a siren wind never ceased, and the window frame rattled constantly. As the sky darkened, the situation grew more severe; the wind was no longer just wind, but felt more like powerful fists pounding on the windows, as if a monster was trying to break in.
In the bathroom, the bathtub kept making noises, starting with gurgling and then changing to a whistling wind coming from the pipes.
By the time it was completely dark, the lights went out, leaving only the glow from the electronic fireplace in the rooms. The shadows of the furniture seemed to morph into clawing ghostly figures.
Shiller just sat on the sofa quietly watching everything, the mere audio and visual paranormal phenomena having no effect on him.
Shiller was not without fear; people with autism aren't completely devoid of emotion. They are more like people without a channel to express their emotions. However, Shiller belonged to those with not very rich emotions among autistic individuals, hardly having strong emotions. Any occasional impulsive emotions he had were mostly misguided.
If it were the complete Shiller, he might indeed be affected by this, but the problem now was that only a specific personality trait of Shiller had arrived; he was merely the Bishop. The emotion manager, whether hardware or software, was not brought over from the High Tower, so he didn't have the capability to fear.
The most lethal damage of the Cthulhu Mythos lies in the destruction of cognition. For example, ants feel great living in their own nests, but once they awaken to knowledge and realize they are just pitiful ants, they collapse instantly.
But awakening to knowledge and gaining cognition also requires hardware. Currently, the Bishop personality trait was capable of complete thought only because it was streamed through the High Tower. As long as he wasn't streaming, he simply didn't have the components to gain forbidden knowledge and comprehend the truth, so his Sanity Points were nearly infinite. This was also why he daringly barged into the hotel.
However, not all Outer Gods observe martial virtue, or rather, the one associated with Little Bruce is especially unscrupulous.
They say Outer Gods don't care about the human race, yet there is one who cares to death. The methods this being employs are not just about imparting knowledge.
Sure enough, at the moment complete darkness fell, a bang sounded, the television exploded, and Shiller had already hidden behind the sofa at the sound of that hidden electric current.
Good, now it turned into a "God of Death Has Arrived" scene.
Without staying for half a second, after the television exploded once, Shiller rushed over, grabbed the still-hot exploded television, ran to the window, opened it, and threw the television out.
A bang sounded, a drawer from the cabinet opened, the drawer detaching completely from the cabinet and flying towards Shiller. Shiller picked up a nearby lamp, and like playing baseball, he knocked the drawer flying out.
The drawer landed on the floor, Shiller rushed over, and threw the drawer out of the window as well.
The lamp in his hand started to uncontrollably fly outward, and without hesitation, Shiller also threw the lamp out of the window.
The ceiling light above began to spark, Shiller couldn't remove it, but while the ceiling light hadn't yet exploded, he threw almost everything he could move in the living room out the window, then rushed into the bedroom.
With a bang, the ceiling light exploded, glass shards flying everywhere. After entering the bedroom, Shiller didn't pause; sheets, quilts, pillowcases—anything he could throw was thrown out.
Even the two not-too-large nightstands were tossed out; it was only the bed that was too big for him to move, otherwise, it would have gone out the window too.
But just because he couldn't move the bed didn't mean others couldn't; the bed slowly floated up and flew toward Shiller.
Shiller returned to the living room, but by then, the immovable sofas and nightstands had also taken flight.
This isn't trying to kill me, Shiller thought. If some paranormal force truly wanted to kill a human, there was no need for such hassle. When the TV exploded earlier, simply producing some sparks and thick smoke would have sufficed to choke a person to death in two minutes, or just adjust the central air to a temperature unbearable for humans; after all, humans are quite fragile.
However, the entity causing these paranormal activities hadn't done that. Instead, it threw things like a child throwing a tantrum, which proved it didn't actually want to kill him.
That left only one possibility. Shiller turned and looked at the bathroom door; something in the bathroom certainly could.
Shiller didn't enter the bathroom. Instead, he ran to the window at top speed and threw himself out.
But don't misunderstand; he wasn't trying to commit suicide. His hands clung to the exterior windowsill of the hotel, his entire body pressed against the hotel's wall.
A gust of wind blew, but it didn't affect Shiller, for the wind was coming through the gap between two hotels, hitting him sideways with minimal surface area, so there was no immediate problem.
The room also quieted down, it seemed that the entity inside could not affect the outside.
But this was no solution; Shiller had to stay outside the window all night and needed a foothold.
Just then, Peter finally replied to his messages, appearing to have just woken up.
Thinking of the time difference hypothesis, Shiller immediately asked, "Peter, do you have any way to create a foothold outside the living room window?"
Hearing Shiller's urgent tone, Peter knew there was no time to ask why. He answered, "I brought a miniaturized Spider Silk Launcher; switching the ingredients can create a sticky spider silk."
"How long will it hold?"
"Over ten years, and almost nothing can remove it."
"Hurry, Peter."
Peter immediately went to the living room window with the equipment. By then, Shiller was already standing on the windowsill, forced to reach inside the window frame to stabilize himself while the floating glass shards poised to slice at his fingers.
Along with a few hissing sounds, Shiller knew that Peter on the other side must have succeeded. What was done in the past would definitely affect the future. The spider silk Peter had sprayed on the window would also have remained in place at Shiller's point in time.
But there was nothing on the window frame.
Was the guess wrong???