The paper was wrinkled, and many places were stained by gray-black "mud". The handwriting on it was blurred and damaged, but after Morris handled it carefully, many of the words on it were restored to a state where they could be barely read.

In his final lucid moments, Brown Scott recorded the strange changes that were happening to him:

〖…Around four in the morning, twelve hours had passed since I locked the door. The increasingly intense tinnitus and paroxysmal vertigo seriously affected my movements. I could only write a few things when I was in a better state. There seemed to be bleeding under my skin, and I saw inexplicable bruises…

At half past six, my internal organs seemed to be tumbling, as if the structures in my body had lost order and were wandering around in my body with their own ideas. I felt no pain, and even the dizziness was much less... The fear began to subside, and clearer memories appeared in my mind...

Around seven o'clock, I clearly recalled the details of my death, and became more and more convinced that my real self had already died. My left leg was inexplicably broken - or perhaps a section of the bone in the middle suddenly dissolved and disappeared.

At 8:15, my left leg began to dissolve. First, the skin cracked, and then the internal tissue flowed out like some kind of gray-black liquid. The liquid substances that were separated from the body seemed to have their own life, squirming on the floor and even climbing up the wall... I was worried for a while whether the wooden boards I nailed to the windows could block these strange and terrifying substances, but later I found that they gradually lost their activity after leaving the body, and even when they remained active, they seemed to consciously avoid the sunlight... This may be very important information, so I record it here...

…The heart stopped beating, but consciousness continued. I could feel that this body was no longer functioning according to the normal human physiological mechanisms. I tried to cut a wound, but there was no blood in the wound. Only a gray-black sticky substance slowly flowed out… What material was this body made of at this moment?

My entire lower body began to dissolve. It took some effort to fix myself in one position and continue writing these words - I can't feel any pain now, I'm not breathing, my heartbeat has long stopped, and I can occasionally hear a buzzing noise, as if the material that makes up myself is resonating... More and more sticky substances left my body, making a mess of the room...

...I hope Galoni won't be scared when she's cleaning her room...Although when I wrote this name, I could hardly remember what Galoni looked like in my mind.

At half past ten, the thing I was most worried about began to happen. My vision was rapidly weakening, and the environment was rapidly getting darker. I had to grope for the edge of the paper to make the handwriting below as clear as possible...

I can't confirm the current time, but it was probably between 11 and 12 o'clock when I heard a sharp and strange sound. The sound lasted for about five minutes, and then all the discomfort began to subside, and the perception of the remaining parts of my body also weakened rapidly. I could vaguely feel the part below my chest falling...

Perhaps another hour passed.

The text stops here.

It is not known whether the recorder's consciousness had finally reached its end, or whether he was no longer able to accurately write the words on paper after losing most of his perception - in the end, all this dead man left for the world was an abrupt punctuation mark.

Morris was silent for a long time. He didn't make any sound. After an unknown amount of time, he whispered to himself, "Ah, it's definitely his handwriting."

"Do you need some time alone?" Duncan looked at the old man calmly. "I can wait for you outside."

"No, I've already mourned for him once," Morris shook his head slightly, "but I didn't expect to see his academic records again six years later... These materials are very useful, right?"

Duncan did not answer immediately, but moved closer to the solidified "mud" and observed its edges thoughtfully. Then he picked up the last record left by Brown Scott and carefully examined the edges of the paper that had been completely soaked by the mud.

The edge was a bit blurred and jagged, and the boundary between paper and mud seemed to have disappeared, and even appeared to be partially fused.

Morris noticed Duncan's action: "Did you find anything?"

"...Elements," Duncan raised his head. "The local church in Frost is studying this substance. They believe that this 'viscous substance left after the collapse of the deep-sea replica' is very similar in nature to the 'Elements' mentioned by the Annihilation Cult."

Morris was stunned for a moment, but he was now more or less used to the captain getting new clues from nowhere, so he didn't curiously ask about the source of the information. He just thought for a moment and said, "...I know the term 'element'. If you want to study the historical origins of cultists, you can't avoid these mysterious things."

He paused, as if he was organizing the information in his mind, and continued after a moment: "Just like the Sun Cultists firmly believe that the real ancient sun will save the world sooner or later, the Annihilation Cultists also have similar "Salvation Prophecy". They preach that one day in the future, the Deep Lord will wake up from his slumber and destroy the current mortal world that has been distorted and deceived by the gods in anger. The deep sea representing the "real world" will rise from the depths of the world and become a paradise for mortals to live in peace. Before that day comes, a large amount of "Elements" will first pour out. Elements are the cornerstone of the world and the blueprint of all things. They will cover everything and restore the world to its true appearance..."

After listening to the old scholar's story, Duncan was silent for a few seconds, then raised his head and asked, "Gushing out in large quantities...Gushing out from the deep sea?"

Morris said nothing for a moment.

"I am now more and more interested in those Annihilation Cultists, but compared to their so-called 'prophecy of salvation', I am more curious about how they have established a 'connection' with a place a thousand meters deep under the Frost," Duncan shook his head. "The replicas come from the deep sea, such as the Obsidian and the submersible on Dagger Island. But a group of mystical Annihilation Cultists... How do you think they came into contact with the power a thousand meters deep under the water?"

"…Even for a powerful city-state, building a submersible that can travel thousands of meters into the deep sea is no small matter. At the very least, it is not something that a bunch of cultists can master," Morris said as he pondered. "But they can use some indirect rituals to guide the power of the deep sea, or communicate with the... 'powerful existence' of the deep sea."

"So, there must be a larger cult stronghold in Frost, a hidden place where large-scale ceremonies can be held. It is enough for them to continuously draw on the power of the deep sea to create replicas in the city-state and even invade Dagger Island." Duncan said slowly, while raising his head and looking around the room - the only window in the room was nailed shut with wooden boards, and the roof, walls and ground were covered with dry "mud" that had lost its vitality. All the traces here seemed to be silently telling a thrilling death and confrontation.

And in his perception, the Lost Homeland was sailing towards Dagger Island and Frost Island.

"Perhaps we should finally give the cultists here a little 'Lost Homeland Shock'." He said softly, rubbing his fingers together. A small cluster of green flames fell from his fingertips, landed silently on the ground, and quickly melted into the air and disappeared.

Of course Morris saw this, but he said nothing, only taking a last look at the table next to him.

That was the last place Brown Scott "worked" - perhaps it was just a short-lived replica, but when the constantly collapsing and disintegrating body was writing at the desk, it still had a noble soul.

"...How do we deal with the situation here?" The old scholar raised his head and looked at the captain, "The traces in the room, the information left by Brown, and...Galoni on the first floor."

"We have obtained enough clues. Let's leave the rest to the Frost Man," Duncan said calmly. "Leave the room as it is. Leave the letter in a conspicuous place on the table and prepare a letter of denunciation. As for Galoni..."

Duncan paused.

"The cognitive disturbance that Garoni has suffered has obviously not ended. After the replica in this building disappeared, she still showed no signs of regaining consciousness. She even firmly believed that her teacher was resting in the room. This shows that the 'source' of the disturbance is not her teacher, but something that is still active and hiding deep in the city-state. She will not truly recover unless that source is eliminated."

Having said this, he frowned slightly, as if he had thought of more.

"And... I'm not sure how many Brown Scotts and Garonis there are in this city-state."

Morris's expression froze: "You mean..."

"Rumors of the return of the dead are spreading in the city, but at the same time, completely opposite news has reached Tirian," Duncan glanced at Morris, "I'm afraid this city-state has been infiltrated by replicas and cognitive interference."