"You must read all the information about the game carefully, and sometimes the clues are buried in it." - "Dark World" official tip

——Continue with the main text

May 29, 1883:

We succeeded!

The plan is progressing very smoothly.

Although it was not until the afternoon that Mr. Roosevelt finally successfully lured Tarask to chase him, the monster then fell into the trap we set without any suspense.

Finally, Mr. Dukov warned us to protect our eyes, and then used his asphalt uranium gun. His warning was no exaggeration - the light that was emitted was enough to blind people's eyes. After he pulled the trigger, a huge flame with thick smoke rose from the trap, forming a mushroom-like shape above our heads.

When the flames went out, the monster was left with only a burnt skeleton.

May 30, 1883:

Things are not good!

We returned to Avignon with the trophy and were welcomed by the local garrison heroes.

In the morning sun, Tarask's skull looked a little whiter than last night, and there was more burnt flesh attached to it than when we dragged it out of the pit yesterday, and we all thought it was just an illusion.

The four of us took a photo with the monster's head, and then Mr. Duckov offered to put his head between the monster's upper and lower jaws to take a picture.

As soon as he had finished pose, the monster suddenly closed his jaw, and we were horrified to see it bit off Mr. Duckov's head cleanly.

When we arrived at the bank, we found that Mr. Harris had dragged the box from the vault to the foyer and was rushing to pry open the wooden board outside.

Soon the box was opened and inside was a very ancient-looking sarcophagus.

The moment the sarcophagus was exposed, the hall became extremely cold, as if the heat in the entire space had been sucked away. I held back my tremor and stared at it.

Three chains with locks firmly secured the lid of the coffin, and the lid and coffin were hand-engraved runes, which looked like Sumerian or Akkadian ancient characters.

I admit that I had never learned the ancient Mesopotamian text; however, when Mr. Harris pulled out a key ring with three keys from his pocket and began to unlock the locks on the coffin one by one, my intuition told me that something was wrong was about to come out of the coffin.

I desperately begged him to stop this crazy behavior and run away while there was still a chance, but he insisted that as soon as we opened the coffin, we could turn the situation around and win.

Mr. Harris opened the lock and pushed the lid aside. Before he could see his "secret weapon" with his own eyes, an olive arm holding a sharp sword swung out of the coffin and cut off his head directly.

During my years of adventure, I have seen all kinds of barbarians, but I have never seen such a primitive, fierce, and full of wild anger as the Sumerian demigod in the coffin; she was naked, holding a dark red sword in her hand, and her long black hair was floating behind her, covering her head to toe with unimaginable patterns and tattoos of ancient characters.

It is said that American General Sherman once said to his enemies begging for mercy, "You can try begging for mercy to the storm."

I think the one that appears in front of me now is probably the "storm" itself.

Mr. Roosevelt tried to discuss with the demigod and asked him to help us, but she seemed to have not heard it at all, and instead attacked Roosevelt with a sword.

Roosevelt blocked the fierce attack with his special rifle, and a deep crack appeared on the barrel.

The demigod was also surprised and threw down the sword in his hand.

Roosevelt picked up the sword and tried to fight back, but somehow, a new sword appeared in each of the demigod's hands in the blink of an eye, as if it had transformed from the void.

Mr. Roosevelt tried his best to block the attack of the demigod, but he was forced into a dead corner by the other party.

Although it was despicable to intervene in a fair duel between the two knights, I really couldn't bear to watch Mr. Roosevelt be killed like this; I took out my pistol and shot all the five bullets left in the magazine into the head of the demigod.

It is said that if you suffer such damage, you should die, but this olive-skinned destroyer turned around and looked at me as if nothing had happened.

He threw down one of his sword, waved his hand quickly in the air, and threw some weapon at me with lightning speed.

Suddenly my arm couldn't move, and it turned out that the demigod had made a lasso.

Then he tied my feet with a lasso and pulled me to the ground.

He slowly walked towards me, ready to give me a final blow - just then, I saw the walls of the bank begin to tremble and collapse, and heard an angry roar - it was Tarask, who, unscathed, rushed into the bank to seek revenge from those who were trying to kill it.

As soon as the demigod saw Tarask, he immediately lost interest in Mr. Roosevelt and me.

I think this is why poor Mr. Harris regards him as a secret weapon; this incarnation of anger lives only for battle, and the appearance of Tarask has led her to find her ultimate enemy.

To describe the battle between these two invincible beings in detail, I am afraid that hundreds of pages can be written. After half an hour passed, hundreds of corpses were upside them, and the city center of Avignon was in ruins.

The demigod lost one arm, one leg, one eyeball, and most of his brain, and his abdomen were also cut open.

In the physical condition that ordinary humans should have died long ago, he continued to fight, and even tear off his internal organs as weapons to attack.

Tarask's injuries were just as severe. He lay on the ground and reborn with difficulty. At this time, I saw the demigod noticed Mr. Dukov's asphalt uranium gun, which fell next to the wreckage of the platform at the celebration an hour ago.

We witnessed the demigod with his own eyes to remove the energy core of the gun with incomparably precise accuracy.

He created something like explosives out of thin air, tied them to the core, and then fixed the core to his chest.

He lit the fuse and rushed to Tarask, ready to die with it...

The text on the paper ends here. Feng Heng, who saw all this, silently put away the information of scp-682. The description is almost the same as the evil lizard I encountered in the [Thousand Years of Tomb] before, but later it disappeared without knowing what happened.

Looking back now, if that guy had not disappeared, he would have been killed and eliminated. He would have never experienced those who died with Yi with an electromagnetic cannon. The final winner might be Yi Yi.
Chapter completed!