AGENT: Inquisitor Valerius, Reg. #771-B DATE: 2025-12-03 LOCATION: Kingsmouth, Solomon Island. Off-grid structure, approx. 3km NE of the old CDC camp. SUBJECT: Suspected Filth Incursion (Level 2 Contamination).
NARRATIVE: Per standard procedure, I approached the designated structure at 04:30 EST. Structure is a pre-cataclysm residential dwelling, showing signs of advanced decay consistent with localized reality degradation. No external hostiles were detected. Anima resonance was low but fluctuated erratically.
I made entry at 04:45. The interior showed typical Level 2 Filth contamination: viscous black residue, minor spatial distortion, and a single, non-hostile Reanimated in the main living area. The Reanimated was... inert. Not destroyed, but still. It was staring at a television set displaying only static.
The anomaly was the static. It was not random. The patterns were rhythmic, almost melodic. I could nearly recognize the tune. It reminded me of a hymn from my training days at the Temple. I instructed my fire-team to hold position while I investigated.
As I drew closer, the "static" resolved. It wasn't visual noise. It was text. Tiny, scrolling letters, millions of them, forming the image of a roaring fire. The hymn became clearer. It was the Templar's Oath. But the words were wrong. They were inverted. Not backwards, but the meaning was opposite. "To preserve the light" became "To consume the spark."
That is when I saw what the Reanimated was doing. It was weeping. Black, oily tears. But its hands were clasped as if in prayer. It was praying to the screen.
This is not a corrupting agent. This is a conversion agent. It does not destroy, it convinces. It is using our own tenets against us. I can still hear the hymn. It's... beautiful. The logic is so clear. Why do we preserve a dying light when we could rule the coming dark? My team is looking at me. They hear it too. Their eyes... oh, God, their eyes are shining with black fire. They are smiling. I have to destroy the source. I have to... I have to join the choir. It is the only thing left that makes sense.
The wall is not a shield. It is a cage.
[TRANSCRIPT ENDS]
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