Under the Glacier: the Story of Mark

When the plane crashed, my watch started spinning counterclockwise; after climbing out of the wreckage, there were two sets of footprints in the snow—human boot prints, and six-toed paw prints. The paw prints were from the cabin. I'm Mark Hawkes, a geophysicist at Columbia University. Three hours ago, we were conducting an aerial survey on the Blind Glacier; now, our teammates have become humanoid ice shells in their harnesses, frozen from the inside and perfectly evaporated. This is not a plane crash, it is an interview notice from Nyarlathotep - I am candidate No. 427, With 0.03% Of the ancient code engraved in my genes. When Bayaki's hexagonal compound eyes stared at me, the memory was forced into my brain; when I fell into the ice crevice, I saw the cold spider weaving a copy of me with human arms, and the wind chimes with teeth and living eyeballs hung above my head - the [Observer's Eye] has awakened: seeing true colors, the price is the random loss of a memory. The georadar is an alarm clock that wakes up the past, and that black feather will transform into a stone slab engraved with the ancients' writing. But the most dangerous one is Emily Chen. My co-pilot, a glacier biologist, had his right eye turn the grayish-white color of a Star Spawn after the crash. She knew the scientific name of the Cold Spider and the five-story structure of Ikils Prison. She stretched out her hand when I was being chased, but said: "Don't believe anything, especially don't believe me." When the city under the ice rises by 0.3 Meters per second, when Novel Ker's three short and one long breaths resonate in the bones, I must use scientific rationality to negotiate with madness. I don't need to be a hero, I want to be the first chess player. "The first chess piece? No, Thousand Faces Man, it's your turn."