**Location: Argentina**
**Setting: Buenos Aires, the capital and largest city, situated on the southern bank of the Río de la Plata in the southeast of South America, opposite Uruguay on the eastern coast.**
**Time: Late night**
In a stark, white reception room that seemed somewhat unsettling, a table was placed in the center. Seated to the left was a man dressed in prisoner's garb, while three individuals sat to the right. The middle person was an elderly woman with white hair, and beside her, similarly aged, sat an old man. On their other side was a clergyman dressed in church robes.
"Mr. Brumedi, we want to get you out," said the elderly woman, Caglian, who seemed to be leading the conversation. She stealthily glanced at the clergyman to her left before continuing.
The elderly man, Ar Rogov, took over, addressing the somewhat confused and distressed prisoner, Brumedi. "We believe your story, but you need to cooperate with us and answer our questions seriously."
Not long ago, Brumedi's wife had died overnight, and he had been arrested by the police under suspicion of murdering her. However, Brumedi steadfastly claimed that he had not killed his wife but that something else had.
This statement seemed to slightly awaken Brumedi, bringing a spark of clarity to his eyes. "Have you spoken to my lawyer?"
"Yes, we have," Ar Rogov replied, pausing briefly. "But it seems your lawyer no longer believes us, just as he does not believe you."
He then pulled out a stack of photographs from a file in front of him and laid them before Brumedi. The photos were gruesome, depicting a woman's dead body.
Brumedi averted his eyes and pushed the photos away with a heavy breath. "I've seen them already."
"No," Ar Rogov insisted, ignoring Brumedi's reaction and spreading the photos out. "You don't know about these; you've never seen them before."
"We believe you, Mr. Brumedi. We know you didn't kill your wife," interjected the elderly woman, Caglian. "Although we don't have concrete evidence, we're willing to help you. So please, look at these photos, Mr. Brumedi."
Brumedi looked up at the four people in front of him. The two in the middle, though dressed simply, exuded a unique aura unlike ordinary people. What puzzled him was why a respected and beloved clergyman would also be present.
Bolstered by the composed clergyman who nodded at him, Brumedi gathered the courage to pick up the grisly photos.
The first photo showed an unfamiliar woman, her face mangled and her forehead bearing a slash-like wound. "This isn't Clara," Brumedi murmured subconsciously.
Ar Rogov nodded. "Indeed, this isn't your wife. This case occurred a few months ago in Cordoba, very similar to yours."
"The circumstances and the testimonies in every case are just like yours," Ar Rogov added for emphasis.
Brumedi pursed his lips and picked up another photo. "There have been fifty-seven similar cases now," stated the old man, his voice sending chills down Brumedi's spine.
Brumedi took a deep breath, trying to calm his emotions. "So, Mr. Brumedi," Ar Rogov leaned forward earnestly. "We need to know everything you remember."
Setting down the photos, Brumedi clasped his hands on the table, trembling slightly. "What do you want to ask?"
Ar Rogov and Caglian exchanged looks, then turned their attention to the silent clergyman.
"Everything unusual at your home, and in your neighborhood," spoke the monk Ralph, his voice deep.
Brumedi closed his eyes in pain, as if recalling a traumatic memory. "Clara usually cooked dinner, and we would eat together when I got home. That night, for the first time, she didn't cook, and she looked unwell, pale and weak..."
He opened his eyes, his hands rubbing together on the table, his voice quivering. "I asked her what was wrong. She said—she said there were people talking in the sewer, discussing how to kill her."
"I didn't take her seriously. I thought it was just noise from the neighbors renovating, that she had misheard, heard a hallucination."
"Neighbors?" Ar Rogov caught a key point.
Brumedi nodded, sinking into his memories: "My neighbor Walter, he seemed very upset, looked like he hadn't slept for days and nights. He always worked on his house at inappropriate times."
"That night, we were still awakened by noises he made."
"I wanted to go out and ask him to stop, but Clara stopped me before I could leave because she said she heard those voices again."
Brumedi
's eyes reddened, tears welled up, and he seemed regretful. "She said she heard those discussions again, saying they were ready to kill her."
"I didn't believe her. All I could think about was going out and stopping Walter from disturbing the peace."
"So you went out?" sighed Caglian.
"Yes, I went out," Brumedi said with a sobbing voice.
"After I went out, the noise stopped. I stubbornly rang Walter's doorbell, but he didn't respond. When I was about to leave, I heard some heavy, muffled breathing, indicating Walter was home. We remained at an impasse, the door remained closed, and I could only return, planning to confront him the next day..."
Brumedi continued, "But when I got back, the noise started again, making me angry. I was ready to risk breaking into Walter's house to confront him, but then I suddenly discovered the sound was coming from my own bathroom..."
"Finally, I pushed the door open and saw blood everywhere—on the walls, the floor, the bathtub..."
"The voice here became even more chilling."
"I saw my wife floating in the air, banging against the walls as if someone was holding her, repeatedly slamming her from one side to the other..."
**At the historic and grand Elis Cathedral, built in 1723**
The cathedral was supported by twelve tall Roman columns, topped with a 15-degree isosceles triangle forming a gable roof, resembling the Pantheon in Rome, Italy, where Raphael's remains are buried, though with four more columns than the Pantheon.
At the cathedral's entrance, Eileen, dressed in a nun's habit, took all the documents from Monk Ralph and nodded.
"I will deliver everything to Bishop York."
Monk Ralph bowed slightly.
Eileen returned the gesture and then turned to enter the ancient and magnificent Elis Cathedral.
Inside, she could see ornaments and Bible stories carved vividly on the triangular gables.
Her gaze was fixed only on her bishop, who was sitting in the pews.
In the vast cathedral, filled with rows of pews, only her bishop was present.
"Bishop, these are all the anomalous events that have occurred in Argentina," Eileen approached slowly, stopping beside her bishop, and spoke softly.
"We suspect that some kind of monster is emerging and lurking in the shadows of this country."
"Show me."
York, who had taken charge of this diocese, spoke indifferently.
Eileen handed over the documents she had just received.
As the prompt sounded, York took them and began to review.
Just like with the rift in H-country, arriving in a new place always meant dealing with problems left by the rift.
Because only then could he be at ease.
And now, it seemed that something had indeed emerged.
Looking at the photos and the detailed descriptions, York's eyebrows raised.
"Interdimensional monsters?"
The photos were gruesome, but he had seen many such images before.
What intrigued him was the narrative.
"Yes."
Eileen, acting almost like an assistant, was already familiar with all the details.
"These are the conclusions drawn by the experts."
"Experts? Like Aid?" York chuckled.
"Yes, like Mr. Aid, they are all ghost scholars and mediums registered with the church," Eileen responded. "They believe our world is adjacent to several dimensional spaces, combined like the segments of an orange. Normally, these dimensions do not interfere with each other, but some monsters can exist between two dimensions, often using water as a conduit to move, nest, and even use human bodies."
As she spoke, Eileen glanced at her bishop to gauge his reaction, noticing his interest, she continued.
"These experts don't know what these monsters are or why they suddenly became so aggressive, but they have discovered one thing—these monsters are extremely sensitive to blood..."
As York listened, he looked at another photo showing the experts, including Caglian and Ar Rogov.
Then, he flipped to a photo showing a humanoid creature over three meters tall.
This creature's mouth was unnaturally wide, its gaping maw resembling a void, and its limbs were long and bony, with sharply pointed nails.
The second photo showed a crawling humanoid monster, captured only as a blur due to its speed, with just a hint of its shape visible.
The third, fourth, and fifth photos followed, clearly showing that these experts, unaware of the existence of rifts, had been researching for a considerable time.
This also implied a fact.
As the rift neared a critical point, these previously quiet monsters began to erupt, adapting to the local conditions and becoming aggressive, starting to attack humans and attempting to reproduce.
It seemed that the rift in Argentina, existing for thousands of years, had allowed countless monsters to secretly slip through.
Could the world connected by Argentina's rift be a world of monsters?
Considering this, York gathered all the documents and handed them to the young nun with a casual smile.
"Have those experts come see me."
"Yes
, Bishop," Eileen replied, bowing slightly before leaving.
York sat alone, his gaze deep and thoughtful.
"Interdimensional monsters, huh? Interesting."
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