madnovel Chapter 45 She still has to thank us.
Chapter 45 She still has to thank us.
Gloriana Victoria.
Winston was hearing Queen Victoria's full name for the first time.
This is certainly not His real name. According to mysticism, the real names of the ancient gods are like the truths of the world, engraved on the background wall of the boundless universe. Humanity's current wisdom is insufficient to decipher even a fraction of them.
However, out of reverence, humans used the most glorious words in their languages to address her, and Her Majesty the Queen mercifully accepted the name. Thus, Gloriana acquired a special connotation in the ceremony.
...Calling its name means, in the unseen realm, forming a pact with that great being.
This is a sacrificial ceremony.
After uttering that sacred and revered name, the Viscountess collapsed weakly onto the snow-white, cloud-like mattress, covered in sweat, staring blankly at the ceiling, tears still wet on her face, her chest heaving, her fingers twisted unrecognizable from violent spasms.
"Hahaha……"
After resting for a while, she let out a gasp that was neither crying nor laughing, and suddenly threw off the blanket that she had used to cover herself, no longer bothering to hide her deformed and atrophied third leg.
Within that bluish flesh and blood structure, a terrifying mutation occurred like a burst dam. The flesh of her lower body writhed and tore rapidly, revealing deep wounds that exposed bone, but no blood flowed out. Instead, a white shell continued to expand and harden.
Under Winston's calm gaze, five thick, column-like limbs covered in barbed hair emerged from her waist and hips, intertwining with her original limbs, reorganizing her bones, and shifting her internal organs. In just a few minutes, this noble and aloof aristocratic woman completely lost her human form.
A huge, snow-white spider was coiled in the center of the bedroom. She, or rather it, still retained the upper body of a pale and beautiful woman, but the lower body had three human legs mixed with five densely packed limbs.
The Viscountess bent down, stroking her legs with an expression of despair mixed with pleasure.
"Is this the consequence of praying to the gods? Stars, is this what I truly desired?"
"Do you remember what you just recited?" Winston said. "Whatever is seen is not a curse, but a revelation."
"Yes, yes." Joyful tears streamed from the White Spider's eyes. She slowly walked to the wall, took down the portraits of herself and Viscount Hammond, and kissed them lightly.
"Charlie... my dear, I finally understand... the anomaly is not a curse, but the growing pains of evolution. Only by shedding this mortal shell can one touch Her Majesty's skirt..."
"Mr. Prime Minister, I feel happy and gratified... Thank you."
She should thank us.
The witty remark was already on his lips, but seeing the Viscountess clutching her leg and weeping bitterly, Winston opened his mouth but couldn't utter a single word of comfort or encouragement.
A few seconds later, he stood up and said in his usual tone:
"That's good, Madam. Now that you've witnessed the truth, you must know where to go and what to do next."
"Yes, I understand."
The white spider let out a hoarse, resonant cry. Its enormous body moved with a physics-defying lightness in the confined space. It turned around, dragging its swollen white belly, and strode out of the bedroom.
Winston grabbed his cane, picked up her hat that had fallen on the bed, and followed behind her.
The moment I pushed open the door, a strong stench of decay hit me.
The corridor was no longer what it used to be. The walls, ceiling, and even the doors and windows were covered with a translucent, flesh-colored membrane resembling sausage casings. The alien species in the basement no longer bothered to hide and brazenly made the Viscount's mansion their nest.
The floor was covered in red and yellow slime, and several corpses lay haphazardly in the middle, all of them servants of the Viscount's mansion.
Their expressions were frozen in confusion, pain, and terror; their bodies were shriveled, and countless large and small pustules bulged under their skin, the only place not covered by the flesh membrane.
The chaotic light flickered around them, casting shadows of corpses and endlessly repeating the process of their deaths.
These servants died as sacrifices.
The arrangements that Winston had previously made with the new maid named Enid have taken effect.
The vast majority of hidden beings harbor a near-physiological preference for human flesh and blood.
As it turns out, even the "emperor" was no exception.
Winston lowered his head, memorizing each of their faces, and followed the Viscountess to the basement.
This place has turned into a chaotic scene of armed conflict.
……
Half an hour ago.
The stench in the sewers seemed to have lasted for ten thousand years, threatening to make everyone smell like shit, but the Scotland Yard officers were getting used to it, just as Winston got used to this parallel universe.
At first, they joked with each other about how their mothers and wives would complain when they got home, and some said they had never stayed up this late before. The rule that you can't go out at night is a real nemesis of overtime work. Except for the capitalists on the streetlights who solve this problem by having workers live in factories, most people in the country go to sleep after 10 p.m.
However, after a while, people's interest in reminiscing waned, and the sewers became increasingly quiet. Detective Angus leaned against the moss-covered brick wall, lost in thought; Norman was intently examining his occult tools; someone was adjusting the buttons on their uniform; and another officer was fiddling with gunpowder.
London police officers at this time are usually not armed, and weapons are only issued for specific operations. Many people are curious about the weapons in their hands. If Winston saw this scene, he would wonder if they would accidentally trip over their own heels.
When v1888 once again flew into the sewers, Norman Lovecraft deciphered the broken words it had written on the moss and said to Inspector Angus:
"It's time, let's go."
The group perked up and followed the detective as he pried open the iron gate of the sewage outlet, climbed up the narrow stone steps left for the maintenance workers, and then pushed open a heavy flap to enter the basement of Viscount Hammond's mansion.
At first glance, the basement was empty and quiet, with stone bricks on the floor and neatly stacked barrels and miscellaneous items on a wooden shelf in the corner. The lead officer carried a kerosene lamp, the light of which flickered in the room, but did not illuminate any human figures.
"Sir, everything is normal!"
Upon hearing this, the officers came up to the ground floor one after another. Detective Angus, gun in hand, came to the front, briefly surveyed the scene in the basement, shrugged, and pushed open the door leading to the corridor.
Outside, all was peaceful. People filed out, looking around with a hint of curiosity. Only Detective Angus, out of habit, stopped once again, turned around, and glanced back through the diamond-shaped peephole in the door.
With just one glance, his movements suddenly froze.
"What's wrong?" Norman noticed something was amiss and asked warily, also leaning over to take a look.
In the very center of the basement, as witnessed by the police officers, an iron cage had appeared out of nowhere, a place that should have been empty.
The bottom of the cage was lined with dry grass, and a boy dressed in white was curled up in the grass, his tender head resting on his arm, like a sleeping fledgling, his eyes closed and fast asleep.