Detective Agency of the Bizarre
Chapter 456 - 456 313

456: 313.

Oliver’s Struggle 456: 313.

Oliver’s Struggle The detestable blood-red clouds covered the sky, and the blood rain fell, saturating the barren trees and the ground with blood-like veins, devoid of any signs of life.

All was dead silent.

The blood rain fell, without a sound.

“Huff…

huff…

huff…”

At some point, faint panting and disordered footsteps emanated from a low hill in the swamp.

The footsteps quickly became clearer, and then suddenly, a figure burst out of the dark opening of the low hill and fell.

Oliver tumbled into the mud mixed with blood rain, a matchbox fell from his hand, and two matches scattered into the mud.

“Huff…

ah…”

Oliver turned over, gasping heavily, his eyes wide with fear, staring intently at the dark passage from which he had fled.

In the dark, lightless tunnel, something dark and sinister dissipated reluctantly, making one want to flee at all costs.

Oliver maintained this position for a long time, until his breathing stabilized, and only then was he sure that nothing would burst out of the dark tunnel again.

— Snap —

Oliver, letting go of all his strength, fell back into the mud with his upper body propped up.

The ground was as soft and slimy as a slug, the air filled with the putrid smell of decaying mud, dead woods twisted into tangled roots, all telling Oliver where he was.

This was Shadow Swamp.

A place of local lore, feared and spoken of in hushed tones, where the Six-legged Monsters that plagued Shadow Town and the Shadow Figures, along with many more creatures, originated.

Seeking to escape danger, Oliver had plunged headlong into the monsters’ lair.

This is good…

this is good…

I can head to Marsh Road and from there get away from Shadow Town.

Oliver, you must keep calm, you have to survive and return to Jojo…

Oliver convinced himself not to give up, propping up his trembling legs, and climbed out of the soggy, disgusting mud.

Brushing the mud off his hands, he picked up the two scattered matches and put them back in the matchbox.

Oliver then looked up at the sky.

The sky was still enveloped by the blood-colored clouds, and Oliver didn’t know the extent of their range, but one thing he was sure of was that the areas blanketed by the blood-colored clouds were unsafe.

“North…

on the right side…”

Oliver confirmed the direction, wading through the swamp’s inconsistently deep mud, stumbling toward the direction of Marsh Road.

The cold mud gradually leeched away Oliver’s warmth and strength; each time he pulled his foot out of the mud, he had to exert all his effort.

He suddenly understood why the Six-legged Monsters crawled instead of walked erect.

More terrifying than these were the mud bubbles indistinguishable from the mud.

They could be found anywhere, camouflaged, ready to swallow you the moment you stepped into them.

The branch Oliver had found had pulled him back from the brink of death several times, sparing him from becoming fertilizer for Shadow Swamp.

But a single branch was not enough; some swamps cunningly hid within the mud, unnoticeable when stepped on, but they would continuously pull you down, and by the time you realized it, it was already too hard to escape.

Oliver could only detour around seemingly open and flat areas, sticking to the exposed gnarled roots of dead trees as he moved.

It would take him several minutes to cover a hundred meters.

Worse still, after half an hour of walking, Oliver realized he had veered off course.

Based on his walking speed, he should have seen the long, straight road that divided the north and south of the swamp, connecting the mainland and Ailen Peninsula, a few minutes ago.

But apart from the shadowy dead trees, there was nothing but dead silence and an unsettling sense of being watched.

It seemed as though something in the dark was covertly observing him.

Oliver could not afford to pay attention to these; just advancing was already exhausting all his energy and focus.

He felt tired.

Luckily, fortune smiled upon Oliver.

Several minutes later, just as Oliver was about to break down from detachment and peering, the outline of a cluster of houses emerged in the distance.

These houses were different from any Oliver had seen before.

They were built on raised wood, like treehouses far from the ground, connected by vine-and-wood suspension bridges.

In the darkness where only silhouettes were visible, the vines hung like snakes and ropes from every part of each house.

Oliver knew it; everyone who passed by Marsh Road knew it.

The abandoned village of Shadow Swamp was situated by the side of Marsh Road.

Seeing it meant that Oliver was very close to Marsh Road.

A strength called hope surged through his drained body, and Oliver, gasping, drew closer to the wooden village.

However, Oliver intentionally avoided the area.

The abandoned village had many bad rumors, like ghosts, like the Six-legged Monster.

An uninhabited abandoned village was more terrifying than an open plain.

It seemed the Goddess of Hope had closed her eyes once again.

The earth began to tremble, as if the ancient, distant heartbeat sounded slowly from deep within the ground.

Oliver knew what it was.

He sat down among the tree roots, trying hard to press against the trunk and conceal himself.

A roar from nowhere echoed through Shadow Swamp’s airspace, signaling monsters and that Shadow Swamp was rife with danger.

Rustle, rustle—

Suddenly, it seemed as if something brushed past in the distance, and whispers filled the surroundings.

Oliver gradually felt uneasy; his current hiding place was hardly secretive…

He looked towards the silent, abandoned village where no sound came from.

Was it safe there?

Oliver clenched his teeth, stood up from the tree roots, and staggered into the abandoned village.

Dead silence permeated between the houses, and the ladders connecting the cottages had probably rotted away long ago; Oliver had no time to carefully look for their locations.

The gloomy doorways without doors faced Oliver, and the unsettling sensation of being watched returned.

Oliver’s breath trembled, perhaps from fear, perhaps from exhaustion, or perhaps from the heartbeat beneath the earth.

He climbed up to the cottage in the center of the abandoned village, which seemed the largest and most solid.

His shoes had been swallowed by the swamp on the road, and his feet stepped on the damp, cool planks, making a grating squeak.

No strange noises were heard, and the cottage did not collapse; things had not gotten worse.

Oliver curled up at the edge of the doorframe, where he could avoid being swallowed by the darkness without revealing his body.

He quietly waited there; after a few minutes, as if the slow heartbeat gripping his heart quieted down, Oliver’s heart came alive again, pounding intensely.

“Someone please save me…”

Leaning against the cold wooden cottage wall, Oliver let out a desperate murmur.

Reluctant tears fell, yet they failed to wash the layer of mud on his face.

He wanted to resent, yet didn’t know what to resent.

Oliver didn’t even know why all this was happening, but at least, he hadn’t died in despair like those townspeople who also didn’t know what was happening.

“What should I do—”

Oliver’s sobs and murmur suddenly stopped.

He slightly tilted his head, listening to the outside.

The sound of water squelching came from the swamp beneath the abandoned village.

Something was nearby.