"Ah, ah, ah!"
As the spirit's form gradually dissipated in the air, the bloody massacre finally came to an end.
A man in a black top hat and a black tailcoat stood calmly at the door, observing the scene within the room.
His immaculate attire seemed out of place amidst the carnage.
On his arm, a gray substance clung, with traces of blood that shimmered like dark red gemstones under the eerie moonlight.
His deep-set eyes, glowing with a hint of blue, slowly focused on the young policeman.
At this point, the young policeman was dazed, slumped on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably at the horrific sight before him.
The man in black approached the young policeman slowly, intending to take him out of the room. However, the young policeman suddenly raised his handgun and, without hesitation, shot himself in the head.
Bang!
The young policeman fell to the ground, with splatters of brain matter and blood hitting the face of the man in black.
Unfazed, the man in black continued to approach the young policeman.
He reached out to close the dead policeman's unblinking eyes and wiped the blood from his body.
"They're probably coming soon," the man in black murmured to himself.
He then moved towards the inner room, silently watching the partially open window.
Drip, drip, drip.
Morse's consciousness slowly emerged from the haze, his eyelids feeling heavy as lead. He felt his body lying on the cold stone floor, the damp air mixed with a rotting odor seeping into his nostrils, making him cough violently.
As he opened his eyes, he was met with an oppressive darkness.
Only a distant glimmer of light faintly illuminated a small area, making the surroundings feel as if he was swallowed by the depths of the earth.
Where is this?
He forced himself to sit up, the surrounding air cold and stagnant, as if filled with decaying life moving slowly.
His hand accidentally touched a sticky substance, feeling its viscous texture. Raising his hand, he saw it was a patch of blood that had not yet fully congealed, appearing especially dark red in the dim light.
A tightness gripped his chest as he quickly scanned his surroundings.
The dark walls were covered in black-green moss and indistinguishable mold, with some plants stubbornly growing despite the minimal light. The rotting smell emanated from their roots.
Deep drag marks were visible on the floor, leading into the deeper darkness as if towards an unknowable abyss.
The surrounding water flowed slowly, but it was not clear.
The water had a murky dark brown color, mixed with refuse, rotting flesh, and broken bones, with occasional bubbles rising to the surface.
It seemed as though something unknown was decaying or fermenting within it.
Occasionally, remnants of human or animal limbs drifted past with the water, occasionally hitting the walls and making a low, unsettling splash.
The sound echoed through the narrow space, mingling with the eerie dripping noise, creating an unsettling and discordant symphony.
As Morse's eyes gradually adjusted to the dim environment, he carefully stood up, his body still feeling weak. He leaned against the cold stone wall, trying to piece together his situation.
The scene before him seemed completely foreign, as if he had stumbled into a forgotten corner of hell.
Dark, unidentifiable liquid oozed from the cracks in the walls, carrying a foul stench.
With each step, Morse's shoes sank into a mire of blood and sewage, producing an eerie, squelching sound.
The sides of the passage were cluttered with irregular stones and shattered wooden planks.
The rotting wood and stones were covered with tiny insects that glinted with a grayish-white sheen, wriggling in the darkness.
He continued forward, the air growing heavier and his breathing becoming labored, as if invisible hands were gripping his throat.
Ahead, he heard a strange sound—a dripping combined with a faint tearing noise, as if something was being cut apart piece by piece.
Morse cautiously approached the source of the noise. In the dim light, he saw a grotesque scene.
A figure was slumped in the corner, its limbs twisted unnaturally, as though violently torn apart by some force.
Its entrails were scattered on the floor, blood mixing with sewage flowing into the depths of the drains.
The face was frozen in extreme terror and pain, eyes wide open as if it had endured endless torment in life.
The walls were covered with symbols and writings painted in blood, incomprehensible and twisted characters creating a suffocating atmosphere in the narrow space.
Suppressing his nausea, Morse pressed on, knowing he had to find an exit from this place.
But as he moved deeper, the bloodstains and bodies grew more numerous, and the air was thick with the scent of death.
Every corner seemed to hide deeper horrors.
He felt as if some malevolent force was watching him from a distance.
The ground began to show more strange marks—claw scratches, dragging traces, and seemingly inexplicable symbols.
They looked like remnants of some ancient ritual.
The water was now choked with limbs and rotting flesh, emitting a pungent, overpowering stench.
Morse had to cover his nose and mouth with his sleeve with every step he took.
The light around him flickered erratically, as if manipulated by some unseen force.
The air was no longer just damp and rotten; it now carried a rusty, metallic stench of blood, which heightened Moss's sense of unease.
He quickened his pace, each step splashing blood-red water from the sewage beneath him, as if he were treading on decaying flesh.
Suddenly, he halted as a massive shadow loomed ahead, blocking his path.
Narrowing his eyes, Morse strained to make out the shape of the enormous entity. It was a colossal demon.
Its body was covered in layers of muck and rotting flesh, with its bloodied and swollen form covered in grotesque boils.
Its limbs seemed to have been broken and reattached countless times, twisted into unnatural angles.
Its eyes were devoid of any light, as if it had long since lost its life.
Yet, its mouth was smeared with fresh blood, as if it had recently devoured something living.
Morse took a few steps back, trying to keep his breathing steady and avoid drawing the creature's attention.
The evil spirit appeared oblivious to his presence, moving slowly through the water.
It emitted heavy breaths and low, rumbling murmurs.
Morse held his breath and slowly retreated into the shadows, attempting to navigate around the beast and continue forward.
He lost track of how long he had been wandering through the labyrinthine sewer.
Time seemed meaningless here.
Each moment felt like an eternity, with the surroundings remaining unchanged.
The stench of decay seemed to pervade his lungs eternally, impossible to escape.
Suddenly, he heard a flurry of hurried footsteps approaching rapidly.
The sound grew closer, and the ground beneath him began to tremble, with countless pebbles breaking and crumbling under the vibration.
"Not good, I've been discovered."