A lake bed that can breathe, it couldn't be more strange to hear it.
Apart from such words, it is difficult to find another description that can describe the appearance of the entire base supporting the lake when it is lifted.
The weak body's breathing was short and deep, like a live fish thrown ashore. It tried to filter out more oxygen by swinging its gas exchange organs at high frequencies, but finally found that it didn't help.
The content of the air that can support survival is decreasing, and it is diluted by the gas that rises to the surface surrounded by a large number of bubbles.
It seems very light, but its irritation is no less than anything else. It burns fiercely on the mucous membranes of the mouth, nose and meninges. It is the kind of terrible flavor that seals the scream in the blocked bronchus and is over-fermented - putrid, suffocating, extreme
.
The light smeared the bloodless face with a comical paleness like a palace buffoon, but the lips turned a deep purple.
The mist is shining, allowing the light to bypass obstacles and spread through it without any angle restrictions. It rolls over the side of the ship, penetrates into the belly of the ship, and crawls into the shrinking and trembling pupils.
What arrives with the smell and light are eleven million voices, either roaring or whispering, using different voices and different words to express the same meaning, looking for the mind that can understand them.
The surface of the water swelled like an abscess, fell, and burst into turbid waves that were higher than the head and swept across.
Behind the gray-yellow water curtain are high prismatic walls that have been uprooted one after another, and the gaps are filled with hissing biomass. Those things that once lived in the buildings on the lake island are now shaped into the most efficient form, with a power that exceeds the limit of the material.
These giant pillars made of celestial remains rise from the bottom of the lake.
This slow movement alone caused the unbearable biomass to continue to collapse, peel off from the adhering stone pillars, and be captured by the floating filter-feeding structure, reintegrating into it without any obstacles.
Fresh air is sucked into a cavity that is longer and more complex than a pipe organ, emitting a long sound like a whale's cry.
The sound waves came first and passed through the body unobstructed, pulling the organs to vibrate with their frequency, almost breaking away from the control of the frenulum and joining in.
People with a keener perception may detect a hint of secret sadness, similar to looking back at the distant homeland behind them when traveling far away. Rejection of the unfamiliar environment wells up in their hearts, but they are immediately overwhelmed by intense physical discomfort.
And in the brief contact, the spiritual senses touched something similar to its own nature in the "lake bed".
The extremely large size and the deep, pale tones make it really easy to spot.
But unlike the embryonic state of the bacterium and the sample spirit body, "it", or "them" is in an extremely mature state, no different from the human beings who are being pulled into the depths, but the form is messy, like being kneaded together and then
The clay sculptures that could not be completely integrated piled up into grotesque clay hills.
Pure repressed pain flows within it, mobilizing the huge volume and mass, activating the instincts carried in the pillars built from the celestial debris, and moving closer to its source.
The world recognized by the spiritual senses is as dark as a rapidly aging wall, and the "color" is losing, moving closer to an environment that is almost the same, but with a monotonous and lack of background color. Two layers of different colors are pinched together, not quite.
Evenly mixed with each other.
But it is not enough. Size is both an advantage and a liability. With these, it is never possible to break through the final threshold and completely break down the barriers between levels.
So it is still trapped here, continuing the endless painful struggle and attempt. The instinctive desire and pain to return to the deep level have become entangled into an almost substantive concept, boiling in this extremely huge spiritual body, and
It is conveyed to the lunar skeleton as the main body of the structure.
Ultimately, the authority to travel between different depths is expressed in distorted and sharp forms.
Elongated fissures visible to the naked eye radiated out, like long transparent whiskers whipping the space, and turbulent water burst out from it, mixed with severed fluorescent tissue.
A large number of luminous creatures can be seen swimming on the other side of the crack, actively colliding with this line of death. Most of them are divided and dissociated. A very few enter the living world with the current at the cost of abandoning most of their bodies from the wider crack. However,
It cannot escape the fate of becoming a new component of the lake bed.
The overall negligible amount of biomass supplementation could not alleviate its pain, and it still boiled, looking for an outlet.
When you become aware of its existence, reverse attention is also established.
Conceptual pain flows along the established connections, projected into every consciousness that recognizes it, and transmitted into new media.
The deeper and more complete the understanding, the more solid and broad the connection will be, and the more efficient the transmission will be.
A more advanced way of communicating information.
A ferocious look occupies every facial muscle of everyone, which is a painful recognition that cannot be shaken off.
Kraft quickly contracted his mental senses and closed his eyes, as if he were touching burning coals. The high temperature was instantly introduced from the contact surface, leaving indelible traces.
A special kind of pain is burned into the spiritual body.
After a few seconds that seemed so long that it seemed like an eternity, the huge wave caused by the activity finally arrived.
The ship was thrown high, rotated and bumped, and was pushed away. This was a blessing. They no longer had to bathe in the inevitable extreme negative feelings, and they were also far away from the space being cut.
The wooden barrels fixed to the ship played an important role in barely maintaining buoyancy, allowing the water-filled ship to survive and drag its passengers into the unknown.
In the chaos, they only remembered to grab the nearest fixed rope, take a breath, and then hold their breath as they were pushed back into the water one wave after another.
It's impossible to open your eyes in the water where the mud and sand merge, but you can feel that they are moving away from the source of light and sound, and are being sent back into the darkness by the spreading waves.
I don't know how long it took, but when the wind and waves calmed down a little, they were completely unable to identify their direction, and even Craft couldn't get any positional information in the spinning world.
Those huge outlines seem to have turned to the other side. At first glance, the lines have some impression. If you compare them carefully with your memory, you will realize that the position and shape are completely different, and you can't find a suitable reference.
Looking around, the beacon of hope they placed before departure failed to create a miracle. Perhaps they were swept deeper into the lake, far beyond the reach of the guide.
Everything on the boat was soaked, and everything below the waist was soaked in water. There were no completely fixed supplies, and all the equipment was left in the lake water. Most of the rest had been soaked for a long time. In this case, there was no need to rely on a layer of leather paper to seal it.
bag effect.
The most sweaty thing on the forehead was the crossbow. When the impact came, the finger that lost conscious control pulled the firing trigger, and the arrow directly penetrated the two stacked layers of packages, nailed into the bottom of the boat, and was half submerged in it.
More than half of the fuel was lost, and one of the mesh bags holding the oil tank was shaken out and hit the hull of the ship. The inside is now shattered into pieces.
The bundles of torches, or as we should now call them, the piles of wet sticks, were of questionable value. There were spare oil lamps, but the problem was how to rekindle the fire.
They were lost in these dark waters, running out of supplies, and suffering mental and physical torture.
What's even worse is that the "Prophet" character in the team seems to be in worse shape than the others.
The pain did not seem to weaken on him with the lengthening time and distance. On the contrary, his condition was as if he was buried alive in the air, trying to grab something from the environment to sustain his survival, but found nothing.