"Where did I put this?"
Blore felt that his brain was like a frozen gear, turning with difficulty in the whistling sea wind, which was full of sharp ice chips. Every thought made a dry and harsh friction sound, almost emitting sparks.
He suddenly opened his eyes, and a small piece of hard ice instantly rushed into the depths of his eyelids like a living thing, bringing a sharp pain and blurred vision.
What was he doing just now?
Walking upright with eyes closed?
Like a puppet on strings with stiff joints?
The thought itself crawled like a slimy slug down his spine.
Not likely, right?
So what was he just now?
A walking corpse being pulled by invisible threads, drawing a strange trajectory on the ice field?
He had become a zombie... No, zombies had clear goals, but he was just circling around unconsciously and repeatedly, as if captured by some huge geometric pattern engraved on the island itself.
Every step he took on the extremely slippery ground covered with thin ice made a teeth-grinding squeaking sound.
The sound penetrated the eardrum, echoed and overlapped repeatedly in the cranial cavity, and gradually distorted into a low, inhuman groan.
His subconscious seemed to have been constantly and futilely reminding him that he couldn't remember how many times he had walked around this damn island.
His consciousness became sticky and numb in the biting cold that seemed to freeze the soul and the monotonous, repetitive, and hopelessly pale scenery before him, like a pot of cooled and solidified low-quality glue, slowly wrapping up his remaining sanity.
What happened when he closed his eyes?
That brief, dark gap wasn't pure nothingness. Something... seeped in.
Like cold ink dripping into clear water, it instantly creates an incomprehensible and terrifying picture.
He suddenly remembered what happened in the academy, and the face of Song Wudeng that appeared at the end - that face now had an inhuman, plaster-like stiffness in his memory.
"really…"
His whisper was instantly torn apart and swallowed by the greedy wind.
He still couldn't figure out what had just happened, but a vague impression was stubbornly surging up from the mire of memory, with a sickening stickiness: he wasn't walking on an ice field, but through a... "structure" that couldn't be described by common sense.
The moment my consciousness sank into the darkness, the ice under my feet was no longer ice.
It became transparent and sticky, like the wall of a huge biological cavity, pulsating slightly, transmitting a heart-pounding, icy pulse from the ancient abyss.
Through this "membrane," he glimpsed what lay below—no, perhaps above? All around?
The sense of direction in space completely collapsed - it was an infinitely extending and stacked matrix.
Countless towering transparent cubes with geometric shapes that are absolutely regular to the point of madness are arranged tightly like a honeycomb, piercing into the chaotic void that is beyond the reach of vision and rolling with non-Euclidean colors.
These cubes are by no means glass or crystal, but more like some kind of solidified, gelatinous organic substance, with a dark green, phosphorescent glow flowing on the surface, reflecting the distorted light and shadows inside.
Inside the cube, a liquid as thick as pus and blood slowly pulsated and swirled.
And suspended in it was an "egg." No, it wasn't any egg that existed in nature.
They vary in size, and their shapes defy the very definition of life: some are giant, swollen eyeballs, covered in scarlet bloodshot, with pupils filled with ever-changing nebula vortexes that seem to contain a mad universe;
Others resemble giant, translucent insect vesicles, within which curled multi-segmented shadows covered with chitinous shells, from which viscous, unknown fluid seeps;
Others were more like deformed embryos—he could make out tiny, twisted, webbed fish tails, or a few tufts of wet, clumped feathers, or even a pale, almost humanoid limb, its knuckles curled at impossible angles, its nails as black as ink…
All these organs were illogically and blasphemously spliced together, bathed in the bubbling mucus, slowly wriggling and growing, as if simulating some disgusting breathing.
And he seemed to hear the sound - not through the ears, but directly acting on the nerves.
It was a thousand tiny, sticky hatching sounds:
There was the crisp sound of the eggshell cracking, the gurgling of liquid, the unconscious thrashing of the embryo in the mucus, and a deeper hum that seemed to come from the cube matrix itself, like billions of tiny creatures rubbing their shells together.
The sounds coalesced into a torrent of incomprehensible, blasphemous whispers that washed over his faltering sanity, bringing on a violent dizziness and an instinctive urge to vomit.
He even caught a glimpse of a half-dissolved, blurry "face" floating in the mucus in the corner of a cube. Its facial features were swollen and deformed, but strangely, it had some of the charm of Song Wudeng!
Those empty eye sockets seemed to penetrate the barriers of the cube, penetrate the frozen time and space, and "look" straight at him!
Mu Yunchu's scarlet forest?
The insect nest there is indeed terrifying, but at least it is "natural" and follows certain understandable rules that belong to this world.
What I saw before me was pure, cold, geometric blasphemy! It was a breeding ground for something beyond human comprehension, a cold cosmic will!
What are they?
Who created it?
Why exist?
These questions themselves were like poisonous thorns, entangled in his mind. The more he struggled, the deeper they pierced, bringing him tearing pain.
This chapter is not over yet, please click on the next page to continue reading!
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
