Iridescence

Boom!!

A deafening explosion erupted right in front of the officers!

The tremendous blast sent several officers flying. The intense heat instantly burned through their dark blue uniforms and even their flesh.

But that was not the most terrifying part.

The most terrifying part was the dozens, perhaps hundreds, of iron fragments and nails hidden inside the explosive!

Clang! Clang! Clang!!

In an instant, those tiny yet deadly metal objects scattered in every direction at speeds comparable to bullets, piercing through every obstacle.

And because the projection room was an enclosed space, the iron fragments and nails struck the walls, ceiling, and floor after exploding, ricocheting several times and inflicting horrifying casualties upon the officers, quarantine personnel, and even the completely unprepared prisoners!

At that moment, the projection room became a living hell!

The four or five officers and quarantine personnel closest to the Exorcism Pot were instantly blown to death without any chance to react, their bodies torn apart into mangled flesh.

Those farther away did not die on the spot, but they were grievously wounded, their bodies covered in dense cuts and holes as they lay dying in pools of blood.

The wooden table in front of the screen had been within the heart of the blast and had long since been reduced to splinters. Though the middle-aged superintendent hiding behind it had avoided the first wave of impact, the secondary damage from shrapnel and iron nails still pierced his body, leaving him on the verge of death.

The superintendent's face was covered in blood. The flesh of his left arm was torn open, three of his fingers were missing, and the Luger Pistol had fallen beside him.

His right hand trembled as he pressed against his continuously bleeding abdomen. Leaning crookedly against the wall, his face was twisted in pain.

"No... no, that's not right." Enduring the ringing in his ears and the agony throughout his body, he struggled to lift his head. "No one has ever been able to take a physical object out of a film. Who exactly are you?"

The superintendent's voice was weak, filled with shock and fury.

Wails rose and fell throughout the projection room.

With a clang, the Triangular Thick Iron Shield toppled over. A tall, thin figure slowly rose to his feet, carrying the Double-Barreled Shotgun as he limped toward the middle-aged superintendent.

The superintendent saw his face clearly.

Beneath his disheveled golden hair was a pale face drained of blood. A shrapnel wound on his left cheek continued to spill blood.

The flickering Gas Lamp light reflected in the young man's eyes like candles in the dark.

"You almost ruined my beautiful dream. You all deserve to die!"

Gilan stuck out his tongue and licked the blood running down his cheek, revealing a savage expression.

He raised the shotgun and, with a smack, pressed it directly against the superintendent's forehead.

"D-Don't... don't shoot!"

Feeling the icy muzzle, the superintendent's heart skipped a beat.

He could not understand what the young man meant by those words. He only felt that the other man's mental state seemed unstable, and feared that he might suddenly go mad and blow his head off.

"Your Gnosis is very high, and you've also passed that secret project above. In my capacity as superintendent of Red Tree Street, I guarantee that I can recommend you for a special department. Your past crimes, including everything that happened today, can all be wiped clean!"

"You're talented! An exceptionally rare talent!" Whether from the pain of his injuries or his terror in the face of death, cold sweat streamed down the middle-aged superintendent's forehead. "The Empire is willing to show you mercy, as long as you..."

Bang!!

Before the middle-aged superintendent could finish speaking, his head exploded like a watermelon.

Brains and bloody gore splattered across the screen. The scene was exceedingly gruesome.

"You're lying to me. I hate liars most of all."

Gilan looked disgusted. Then, with practiced ease, he broke open the barrel and reloaded the shotgun shells.

In his previous life, he had been a disabled person who had lost both legs and been bullied since childhood. He lacked affection and had grown up in an environment filled with malice, which had given him an extraordinarily keen and sensitive heart.

The other man's expression and tone resembled the faces of those "evil people" from his previous life. In Gilan's eyes, there was a ninety-nine percent chance it was all fake.

Gilan could no longer endure it and shot him dead.

"Whew..."

Gilan looked around at the horrific scene he had caused with his own hands. Yet rather than feeling sickened, he felt a sense of relief and pleasure welling up within him.

"I only wanted to live one good life as a whole person. Why did you have to force me?"

He murmured, and a hint of Iridescence flashed through his eyes.

The Double-Barreled Shotgun in his hand was enveloped by color, then slowly disappeared.

This was a technique Gilan had figured out on his own.

He seemed to possess some mysterious power, manifested in the form of iridescent colors that only he could see.

This mysterious power could not only give Gilan revelations through dreams, but also Corruption supernatural Monsters, granting him points that allowed him to instantly master skills. It could even bring certain items from film reels into reality and store them together in some kind of dimensional space.

However, this ability also had limitations.

First, only items that had appeared with "information descriptions" could be taken in, and the quantity was limited. Carrying the shotgun, shield, and leather bundle already seemed close to the limit.

Gilan silently named this power "Iridescence."

Ring, ring, ring—

At that moment, an urgent ringing sounded outside the projection room. The explosion and gunfire from earlier had apparently triggered an alarm.

Gilan did not panic at the sight of this.

He lowered his head and looked at his left leg. His cheap burlap trousers had torn open, leaving a hole in the leg. A chunk of flesh was missing from his calf, leaving it a bloody mess. Fortunately, the bullet from before had not pierced the bone, so this was merely an external injury.

I hope the Exorcist's medicine works. Otherwise, this leg injury will seriously affect my mobility.

Gilan took a deep breath and retrieved the "Magic Potion Gauze" he had obtained from the film.

He untied the string and wrapped the pristine white gauze around his leg wound layer by layer.

The inner side of the gauze was coated with a strange yellowish-green ointment. The moment it touched the wound, Gilan felt a wave of coolness, and more than half of the pain miraculously vanished.

His eyebrows rose as he tried lifting his leg and walking.

Though it still lacked strength, it no longer affected his normal movement. He could even jog as long as he endured the faint pain.

This effect is simply unbelievable.

Gilan was in a much better mood.

He ignored the dying people wailing around him, then bent down and picked up the Luger Pistol beside the middle-aged superintendent's corpse.

But this time, the iridescent information description did not appear again, disappointing Gilan. It meant that the pistol could not be directly stored in the dimensional space.

He quickly adjusted his mood and checked the ammunition remaining in the magazine.

The Luger Pistol's magazine held only eight rounds, and the superintendent had long since emptied this pistol.

Gilan silently cursed his bad luck, casually tossed away the empty magazine, and began searching the other officers for ammunition.

The situation was urgent. The police station's men would likely surround the place soon, so Gilan did not dare waste too much time. After taking only four or five magazines, he stuffed them all into his trouser pockets.

He loaded the pistol, then finally went to the fragments of the wooden table and dug out the projector that had already been destroyed in the explosion.

His intuition told him that the mysterious film reel was extremely important.

With it, I'll still have chances to enter that movie world in the future and find more useful things to arm myself.

Gilan thought.

Fortunately, the film reel had not been damaged—or perhaps it could not be damaged. After he took it out, it still looked exactly as it had before.

At that moment, the iridescent colors that had fallen silent suddenly reacted.

A passage of text abruptly appeared in Gilan's vision:

"Moon-Scorched Village #1. One film in a certain series, created by the Hour-God 'Director,' who symbolizes February. It contains a terrifying story, many mysterious things, and even secret histories."