Cthulhu Panel: One organ mutates every day

The young woman with blood-red hair peeked around before squeezing her whole body in, standing with her hands clasped together.

Her rosy eyes were gentle and clear, her lips were pursed into a polite smile, and she was dressed in formal attire with a respectful demeanor.

Lena sat back down, took a sip of tea, and leisurely flipped through the bill, saying lazily, "It's alright, you can continue."

Ethan then introduced the red-haired girl to Wayne:

"Lillian Clarisse, a member of our Section 7, Group 2, is the only one you haven't met yet. She's very popular within the bureau, and colleagues from other sections prefer to communicate with her when they come to Section 7 to hand over their work."

"This is Wayne Webber, the investigator newly recruited by Team Leader Matthew. He is currently in the information position within the team."

Information bits? They're essentially observation bits.

Wein has a clear understanding of his role within the team.

Lillian suddenly realized it was impolite of her not to remember the other person's name, so she slightly bent her knees, turned to the side, and gently brushed her hair aside, saying:

"Ah, Wayne, I've remembered your name. I'll never forget it again. I'm so sorry I didn't remember your name before. But you shouldn't have come. Information investigators are very easy to kill. But I will protect you. If I fail to protect you, I will try my best to remember you for as long as possible after you die."

Wayne's lips twitched. Uh... at first glance, Miss Lillian's words seemed fine; she genuinely cared about me. But upon closer inspection, it sounded like she was cursing me to die?

[Perception Lv.1 - Observation of the Microscopic] Progress 7.5%

"Um, hello, nice to meet you." Wayne was speechless and could only give a standard response for a moment.

Ethan, already used to everything, interjected, "Lillian, Wayne came in with a token; he's a messenger chosen by some important figure. He won't die so easily."

Wei En pondered: "A messenger chosen by some important figure? An important figure… I'm referring to the gray-haired little girl who delivered the pocket watch to the original owner. What is her background, and why was she at that banquet in the metropolis? We must investigate this thoroughly."

Lillian tilted her head slightly, adopting an obedient listening posture, but worried that her concern might be misunderstood, so she nodded slightly and said:

"Oh, I see. Our Wayne is a messenger. That was my fault, Wayne. I apologize. You won't die so soon, but time is of the essence. We need to get on the mission quickly."

Wayne didn't deny it. "Then let's go on a mission."

Ethan reminded him, "Bring all the necessary equipment: guns, ammunition, and enhancement drugs. Let's go."

Wayne did as instructed, a thought running through his mind: 'What if I don't know how to use a gun? If you ask me, taking drugs would be the most direct solution.'

Next, Lillian led Ethan and Wayne to meet Matthew downstairs at the Ritz Hotel, where they also met an intelligence colleague holding paper documents.

On the side of the road.

Matthew, dressed in a black leather jacket and holding a black umbrella, nodded to Wayne before briefly exchanging information with his colleagues in the intelligence department.

Lillian, with two dark gray short-barreled pistols at her waist, stood to the side, listening intently.

Ethan, carrying a long black briefcase filled with firearms, whispered instructions to Wayne:

"Generally speaking, the intelligence division is stationed in various police stations in the city. When they encounter unusual cases, they will intercept them and hand them over to our investigation division for handling. After we have collected sufficient information and intelligence and made an accurate judgment, the operations division will then step in to handle the unusual cases."

"Why isn't the Operations Division involved in the investigation?" Wayne asked.

"The Operations Division's training focuses on direct confrontation; they don't have time or the ability to do our work. Our Investigation Division is here specifically to gather information, report back, and contain the situation. Uh, our existence is still very meaningful," Ethan replied, glancing at Wayne with a self-deprecating smile.

"Huh? Meaningful? Then our investigation department really is cannon fodder. If we encounter anything unusual, they'll just smear it in our faces, and we won't even have time to run away." Wayne found it quite exciting.

With several experienced teammates around, he wasn't worried about any unusual dangers at all, his mind was focused on how much progress he could make in [Ancient Points] and [Perception].

Hopefully, it's a high-profile, bizarre case, and not a complete blunder in the end.

Matthew turned to the group and said, "Let's go, we'll head straight to the scene at Lake Myrme Park."

Without further delay, the group followed their colleague from the intelligence department, each boarding one of two black enclosed official cars, and headed northeast towards Lake Mi'an.

Located on the southwest shore of Lake Michigan, Michigan boasts a major inland port and serves as a transportation and economic hub in the Midwestern United States.

As the car approached the target area, it slowly drove off the main road and followed the shade of the trees to a gravel clearing at the edge of the park, where it stopped under the shade of the trees.

Matthew was the first to push open the door and get out of the car, followed closely by the others.

Under the azure sky, Lake Mi'an was a grayish blue, with a faint fishy smell in the wind. The lakeside was covered with large areas of light green lawn and rows of newly planted elm trees, all bathed in dazzling sunlight.

My colleague from the intelligence department said, "Let's go, it's still a while away, the scene is just ahead."

The group walked along the lakeside pebble path, flanked by low shrubs and flower beds, with a fine, beige sandy beach along the lake.

Seeing that Ethan had reverted to his usual well-behaved manners, Wayne didn't bother to strike up a conversation. He glanced at Matthew and Lillian, who were walking at the front, but finding nothing to say, he shook his head.

I decided to observe quietly and accumulate progress in [perception].

There were many tourists nearby, including young couples pushing strollers and ladies wearing dresses and hats taking a walk.

There's a cold drink stall with a colorful sunshade on the street corner, and a pier with small white boats moored on it in the distance overlooking the lake.

It was morning, so there were far fewer men and women in swimsuits on the beach.

[Perception Lv.1 - Observation of the Microscopic] Progress 7.6%

[Breathing Lv.1 - Empty Breath] Progress 1.32%

"With such clear weather and a pristine lakeside setting, it's hard to believe that anything unusual has happened here."

From a different angle, Wayne could even see the white classical pavilions in the distance with his clear vision.

There was a band rehearsing there, the sound of brass instruments drifting on the wind, mingled with the sweet aroma of popcorn from nearby.

[Perception Lv.1 - Observation of the Microscopic] Progress 8.2%

"Hmm? These are all very ordinary scenes, why is the progress increasing so quickly?" Wayne frowned.

He calmed himself down and walked around, taking in his surroundings.

The sun was warm, and the breeze carried a sweet, fishy smell.

The sounds of men and women chatting and whispering, children laughing and making noise, babies babbling and crying, and the faint sound of brass instruments coming from afar.

It's warm and peaceful, filled with the feeling of everyday life.

But Wayne vaguely felt that he couldn't hear what those people were talking about or chatting about.

I can clearly hear their pronunciation, but I can't understand what they mean.

It was as if the syllables weren't coming from their throats, but from some strange part of their bodies.

No, it's also possible that those syllables didn't pass through the throat and airway, but were produced by directly damaging and exposing the vocal cords.

What external force tore their vocal cords apart?

But no matter how Wayne looked at them, they were all complete, normal people, with complete necks and throats.

Furthermore, the baby's cries and the child's laughter, mixed in with these strange syllables, became increasingly jarring the more one listened, even possessing a hint of aggression or attack, making one feel extremely uncomfortable.

Was it because the distant brass music became more intense that it made him associate it with aggression, and thus unintentionally incorporated it into his subjective feelings?

nor.

Wayne found that he could no longer hear the brass music; instead, he could only hear a faint buzzing sound.

A sweet, slightly fishy breeze caressed Wayne's cheeks.

His face grew increasingly pale.

The smell lingering in my nostrils wasn't the fishy smell of seafood; instead, it had a metallic, rusty smell.

Even though it was very faint, it was almost certain that it was the smell of human blood.

The problem is that everything in sight is peaceful and harmonious, and there are no signs of any tourists being injured or bleeding.

Where does the smell of human blood come from? Is it in the lake water? Or in some undetectable place?

Wayne felt that everything around him, whether living or dead, even the smells and sounds, was full of aggression.

Or "hostility" would be a more appropriate word to describe it.

Wayne looked up at the azure sky and then at the sun, feeling the warmth and heat of the sunlight.

wrong.

Is that the scorching heat from the sun?

It seems that's not entirely true.

Not at all.

Wayne felt that it wasn't the heat from the light at all, but rather the stinging, burning pain from a sharp weapon cutting his cheek.

The more you pay attention, the more obvious it becomes.

He felt the sunlight streaming down, splitting into countless tiny knives, all slashing at his face, causing him excruciating pain.

The burning sensation of blood gushing out spread across my cheeks.

He stopped and wiped his face with his hand, but there was no wound or blood as he had imagined.

Is it a hallucination? Is it fake? Is it just wishful thinking?

[Perception Lv.1 - Observation of the Microscopic] Progress 9.8%

"This is really interesting." Despite feeling unwell, Wayne still enjoyed it.

When Matthew and the others saw Wayne stop, they all stopped as well.

The intelligence officer at the front looked puzzled: "Why have you stopped?"

The team members from the investigation department all looked grave.

Lillian and Ethan both understood the role of information position investigators, especially information position messengers who were valued by those important figures.

Matthew narrowed his eyes slightly and asked first:

"What have you discovered?"

Without saying much, Wayne rolled up his sleeves and pointed to the reality deviation measuring device on his wrist. The pointer on the dial was trembling slightly, maintaining a fixed angle.

Reality deviation: 1%

This indicates that the current environment has deviated from reality by 1%.

Pollution is distorting reality.