They cling to the chains, pierce the wriggling tentacles, absorb nutrients from them, but are in turn assimilated by the tentacles, and crystal-clear mucus oozes out of their surface, emitting a sickly fluorescent light in the darkness.
The growth of the thorns was accompanied by a low, almost whispering tearing sound, as if space itself was being slowly torn open by them.
Blore felt his hands slowly rise, his fingertips touching the floating crown.
The crown is not made of metal, but more like a solidified halo with a translucent liquid flowing on its surface, sometimes as heavy as mercury slurry, and sometimes as light as morning dew.
Just as he was about to pick it, a cluster of vines snaked out from nothingness - they were not plants from this world, but condensed from pure energy, clear as crystal, yet with an unknown liquid light flowing inside.
The vines wrapped around the crown, the movements so gentle that they were almost reverent, as if offering sacrifices to some supreme being.
When Blore finally takes off the crown, snow begins to fall.
But the snow was not pure white, but a grayish-white color that was almost rotten. The edges of each snowflake had a subtle purple-black halo, as if eroded by some invisible pollution.
When they fall to the ground, they do not melt, but accumulate like dust, gradually outlining some kind of huge and twisted rune array.
The world fell into an eerie silence at this moment, with only the silent falling snow, the whispering vines, and the surging black fog.
And Blore, standing at the center of it all, slowly put the crown back on his head - his figure, at this moment, looked like both a sacrifice and a god.
"My life has come to an end, perhaps your soul should also return to eternal silence."
Blore felt his vocal cords vibrate, yet a sound emerged that was not his own—a low, ethereal note, like an ancient echo rising from a rift in the deep sea, each syllable carrying a weight beyond human comprehension.
He realized that his throat was squirming uncontrollably, and a metallic, sweet taste lingered at the root of his tongue, as if cold gears were slowly turning in his mouth.
Light gray dust spewed out from the void. It was not ordinary ash, but was composed of tiny, translucent human-shaped particles.
They wailed and struggled, and in the moment of dispersing they solidified into strange reliefs, densely covering the entire field of vision.
Blore looked down and saw that his hands were disintegrating—the skin curling and peeling like dry parchment, revealing the black bone beneath that shimmered with starlight.
The frenzy of chains devoured every gap.
The giant starry sky palm was pierced by countless thorny chains, and its claws burst out with dazzling dark purple plasma, but it was unable to break free - each chain was greedily sucking its power, and densely packed pale eyeballs opened on the chains, and the broken galaxies were reflected in the pupils.
The space was wailing, emitting a sharp tremor like glass about to burst.
Suddenly, small, dark creatures swarmed out from the shadows of the Chained Forest.
They have twisted limbs and legs with too many joints, and their shells are covered with breathing holes, making a teeth-grinding clicking sound when they run.
These creatures began to mutate the moment they came into contact with the air. Some expanded into vesicles, while others stretched into snake-like black shadows. They merged into a long, boiling black river, rushing madly into every crack in space.
Broll's mind drifted at the apex of collapse. He saw the remains of his body compressing the entire thorn forest into a prismatic key—the thorny vines screaming as they crystallized, their sap evaporating into a crimson mist.
When the key pierced into the void, a maddening tearing sound came from the dimension behind the giant palm, as if some sleeping ancient being was awakened.
Countless shadowy lives condensed into the ultimate chain at the last moment. They were no longer entities, but flowing dark laws, rushing to every corner with a carnival of self-destruction.
Space began to collapse like rotting fruit, and at the center of the collapse, the last thing Blore saw was a huge pupil made of pure mathematical concepts, slowly opening.
Dust billowed in his face, and the last thing Blore saw was emerald vines climbing up his vanishing arm.
＊
"I'm really impressed. How could those two just disappear like that? If nothing else, we can just leave first."
Nan Song squatted with his knees hugged in the tree hollow of a towering ancient tree. The sunlight shone through the layers of green leaves, casting mottled golden spots on his body.
She poked the dough beside her with a hint of dissatisfaction, and the sound sent a tiny echo through the quiet forest.
This place is like an enchanted forest.
The sunlight did not shine down but streamed through the leaves like melted honey, gathering into shimmering pools of light on the mossy ground.
Every leaf is bright green, and emerald light seems to flow in the veins. When the breeze blows, the whole forest is covered with shimmering waves, like a dream sinking in the blue sea.
The milky white mist gently wrapped around the tree trunks. It was not a cold fog, but fluffy clouds with the warmth of sunlight.
Sometimes they gather into streamers, sometimes they spread out like veils, wandering leisurely among the treetops. Vines hang down from the branches, with crystal-clear flowers blooming. The petals are as thin as cicada wings, reflecting colorful halos in the light.
This place is so beautiful that it seems unreal - the golden light that took them away from here turned out to be such a paradise on earth.
Those strange things had long since disappeared without leaving even a trace.
After the night fades away, the world seems to be washed clean again, with the sweet fragrance of flowers floating in the air, mixed with the freshness of the earth after the rain.
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