1888: Memoirs of an Unconfirmed Creature Hunter

Chapter 302: The Slaughterhouse Diary

"This is indeed Russian, but a very ancient dialect."

Brewer took the half-burned diary from Lin Jie's hand, a nostalgic expression appearing on his face.

"My grandmother was a Creole from Alaska with Russian ancestry," he explained in a low voice while wiping the blurred, water-damaged writing on the diary with a dry cloth he carried with him. "When I was a child, I often heard her use this language to tell me those old stories about yetis and ice wolves."

This unexpected, softer side of the tough sheriff surprised Lin Jie a bit, but it didn't truly shock him.

New Orleans, this massive cultural melting pot, always had all kinds of unexpected fusions.

"Can you read it?" Lin Jie asked, which was what he cared about most.

"Most of it, yes," Brewer nodded, then began translating word by word for Lin Jie this terrifying record that carried the source of the disaster.

"...September third, clear. Arrived in Delacroix."

"The air here is damp and stifling, permeated with an uneasy scent of decay."

"This is completely different from the dry, pure cold winds of Siberia I'm familiar with.""My employer, old Mr. Delacroix, is an old fellow even more greedy and mysterious than this swamp."

"He lied to me, claiming he wanted me to survey the sulfur mines here, but all I saw in his cloudy eyes was a sick craving for gold and immortality..."

"...September seventh, overcast. We found it."

"Guided by that ancient map he provided, supposedly bought from an Indian tribe, we found the legendary tomb of an ancient Choctaw chief deep in the heart of Gallowsman Swamp."

"The tomb's entrance was extremely well hidden."

"And it was sealed with ancient runes I had never seen before."

"I tried deciphering those runes and discovered they didn't describe treasure, but rather a prison."

"A prison used to suppress some ancient plague god they called 'The Scavenger Spirit.'"

"I told old Delacroix about my discovery, but greed had blinded him."

"He mocked my cowardice, then ordered his equally foolish and barbaric guards to forcibly blast open the tomb entrance with explosives..."

Brewer's translation proceeded slowly.

The diary's author was a Russian geologist named Dmitri, possessing considerable literary skill.

Between his lines was a rigorous scientific description of unknown things, along with a thick pessimism characteristic of intellectuals from the old era.

But in the latter half of the diary, after they entered the tomb, that meticulous handwriting began growing increasingly sloppy, with terror and chaos seeping through the script.

"...Deep in the tomb, there was no gold, nor any burial artifacts."

"A sacrificial altar constructed from some kind of unknown beast bones emitting a sickly green glow stood there."

"At the very center of the altar was enshrined the prison's true form—a ritual vessel carved from black stone."

"The vessel's surface was entwined with many chains woven from ancient sanctified vines, sealing something tightly inside."

"I could clearly feel that within that stone, a hungry consciousness was sleeping."

"It was... breathing."

"Every breath made my compass spin wildly."

"I gave old Delacroix one final warning, telling him this thing was a forbidden taboo that absolutely must not be touched."

"Yet all I got in return was his mocking, pitying smile. He told me that mortals like me could never comprehend a god's greatness."

"He believed this ritual vessel was a holy relic ancient Indian tribes used to communicate with and control this deity!"

"That madman actually believed that if he could please this deity with the proper ritual, he could obtain from it the power to control plague and decay, thus achieving the pitiful immortality of his delusions!"

"He ignored my protests and ordered his guards to forcibly cut those sanctified vines."

"Then he took that still-black ritual vessel out of the tomb..."

Brewer stopped reading here, rubbing his sore eyes.

"What happened next?" Lin Jie pressed.

"Next..." Brewer showed a bitter smile, "...the later content isn't so coherent anymore."

"The diary's owner wrote these things in a state of extreme terror and confusion."

Brewer flipped to the last few pages of the diary, where only some bloodstained, explosion-marked, dream-like fragmented last words remained.

"...the slaughterhouse... that flesh factory... he brought it... there... with blood... with death... with that perpetual... resentment... he wants... to feed it... to awaken it..."

"...the ritual... has begun... I saw... I saw... that black heart... cracking open... a... a butcher with a pig's head... walked out... from inside..."

"...he... he ate everyone... he ate old Delacroix... he imprisoned that madman's soul... inside his body... turned him into... the first... sacrifice..."

"...the storage room... he put him... in storage room zero... as..."

"...run... everyone... run... this world... is going to... rot..."

The diary ended abruptly here.

The final page had only a cross drawn in blood.

And next to that cross, a name they were already all too familiar with.

—Delacroix slaughterhouse.

Silence.

All three were rendered speechless by the truth revealed in the diary.

A mad plantation owner driven by delusions of immortality.

A terrifying ritual vessel, misinterpreted, that sealed an ancient plague god.

A stupid yet deadly evil ritual performed in a slaughterhouse.

All of it ultimately combined to brew this disaster that consumed all of Louisiana.

"So..."

Brewer's voice was dry and hoarse.

"...the third node is old Delacroix himself, who's already been consumed by the UMA."

"And his corpse is in that damned slaughterhouse's storage room zero."

"The final big guy..." Brewer's gaze turned toward the deep darkness shrouded by the green miasma, "...that thing that walked out of the ritual vessel, its lair is also most likely beneath that slaughterhouse."

All clues converged like countless rivers flowing to the sea, pointing to the same location.

Lin Jie laid out the torn half of the simple map alongside the Delacroix area military map Isabella had provided.

Then he picked up his dagger.

"First node, St. Jacob's Church, coordinates, longitude east..."

"Second node, Gallowsman's Hole, coordinates..."

"Third node, Delacroix slaughterhouse, coordinates..."

Lin Jie precisely marked these three points on the map, then used the dagger's edge to scratch lines connecting them into an irregular triangle.

Time passed minute by minute.

The sky gradually shifted from dusky yellow to pitch black.

Finally, Lin Jie stopped.

The tip of his dagger precisely pointed to a certain central point of that triangle—a seemingly ordinary location beneath the central square of Delacroix town.

"Found it."