The interior of the coffin was so empty that it was frightening, as if even nothingness itself had been devoured by some existence.
Only the bronze compass on the top was still slowly turning. The twenty-eight constellations etched on the disk glowed with a faint green phosphorescence. Dark red blood beads oozed out where the pointer passed, winding into a strange star map in the bronze grooves.
The inner walls of the coffin were covered in a thick layer of spider-web-like dust. Whenever the compass turned, the dust would twitch and tremble like a living thing, vaguely revealing the indentations of a human outline - as if countless transparent bodies had once slept here, and eventually even existence itself was reduced to dust.
Blore could feel the consciousness of the body he was in now disintegrating.
He saw the hem of his black robe dispersing into mist, with tiny golden spells floating in each strand of black mist.
There was a sudden sharp pain in the ring finger of my left hand. When I looked down, I found that the knuckles were becoming transparent, and chain-like blue blood vessels were emerging under the skin.
What was even more terrifying was that when he stared at those blood vessels, he actually heard the sound of iron chains colliding coming from within his body.
The changes in the Chained Forest have reached a terrifying peak.
Countless tumor-like protrusions bulged out of the originally cold and hard surface of the iron chain. With a slight "pop" sound, each tumor split into a seven-petal mouthpart and spit out translucent tentacles.
These soft materials with the luster of mother-of-pearl have the chill of metal. Wherever they pass, the iron chains grow coral-like branches.
The entire forest was being transformed from a torture device into a kind of living chamber, and the sound of chains rubbing against each other was mixed with long groans similar to whale songs.
As the first tentacle wrapped around Broll's ankle, the world shattered like glass.
The sky was a purple-black color like a blood clot, and countless filaments hung from the cracks in the clouds, with melting bronze bells hanging on each thread.
His black robe was now as transparent as a cicada's wing, revealing his body underneath, which was made of starlight and rust.
A sticky swallowing sound came from the depths of the Chained Forest, and a silhouette darker than the darkness was smiling with a lipless mouth.
Blore could feel that something different was descending into this space.
Even though he was mentally prepared at this point, this body seemed to have sensed it.
It's that...
But isn’t that person about to fall asleep?
How did it get involved in this matter again?
When the otter's hand descended from the void, the world seemed to be distorted by some indescribable law.
The fur seems transparent, but it reflects a glaring paleness at the edge of the vision, as if the skinned muscle tissue is soaked in some sticky liquid, with a sickly luster like mother-of-pearl.
Each hair was like an independent living thing, wriggling slightly, with tiny black liquid beads oozing out from the tip. As they dripped, they stretched into silk threads in mid-air, and after falling to the ground, they turned into twisted runes, etching charred marks on the ground.
The claw blades slowly popped out, each one looking like a fragment of a star that had been forcibly embedded into the claw sheath. The surface was covered with cracks like blood vessels, and a dark purple nebula flowed inside.
When the claw tip lightly scratched the air, space itself cracked like rotten skin, and sticky dark matter oozed out of the cracks, like pus and blood flowing out after the universe was cut.
Translucent tentacles were wrapped between the claws, as thin as hair but gleaming with a cold metallic light. They twitched and coiled irregularly, sometimes entangled into strange geometric patterns, and sometimes spread out like the mouthparts of some ancient creature.
What made Blore feel most uncomfortable was its movement—slow, graceful, yet with a certain inhuman sense of dislocation, as if this palm did not truly belong to this dimension, but was forcibly stuffed into the cracks of reality by some higher-level existence.
Every slight vibration of it would cause ripple-like distortion in the surrounding air, and the light around it would twist into spirals, as if space itself was being silently digested by it.
And the moment it descended, an indescribable low-frequency hum began to resonate in his skull. It was not a sound, but a cognitive pollution that directly penetrated his nerves - as if this palm was only the very end of a huge monster, and its main body was still dormant in the abyss outside of reality, slowly awakening.
Blore could clearly feel that the body was gradually dissipating, like a candle in the wind, tottering.
This body seemed to have an unfulfilled wish, or perhaps something had not been achieved. The incomplete soul was still struggling and refused to leave easily.
It feels like a person has gone through untold hardships and returned home exhausted just to complete the last thing in his life.
However, Blore had no idea what this last thing was. He could only wait blankly, watching the body slowly disappear as time passed.
The huge sea otter's palm was now suspended in mid-air, no longer sinking, as if it was imprisoned by an invisible force.
The tips of its claws trembled slightly, as if it was engaged in a fierce battle with the will of some higher dimension.
The starry cracks inside his palm flickered with a faint light, sometimes brighter and sometimes dimmed, as if conveying some kind of message to Blore, but he could not decipher its meaning.
However, the black mist surged up like a living thing, thick as asphalt, yet light as smoke, wrapping around the palm and eroding its outline bit by bit.
Occasionally, tiny, eye-like reflections flashed in the fog, peeking at reality, and then quickly disappeared.
The thorns began to spread.
They are not ordinary plants, but some kind of alien life between flesh and metal. Each spike is covered with fine spiral patterns, as if ancient forbidden knowledge was forcibly engraved on it.
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