Kraft quickly weighed the cost-effectiveness of the door and the kitchen in his mind, and rushed towards the main entrance.
The knee-deep water greatly slowed down his speed. The door that could have been reached in two breaths actually took several times longer.
His shoulder hit the closed door. As expected, the ajar door did not move at all. Instead, Kraft himself was pushed back two steps. A few drops of splashed water fell into his mouth, and it tasted fishy and salty. It was actually sea water.
Such terrible seawater intrusion has never happened in Wendeng Port. Even if it did, it was mostly limited to the port and the salt tide area. If the hotel where he stayed had such water levels, not even half of the roof would be left in the salt tide area.
There was a roar of the door breaking and falling to the ground from upstairs, and the diffuse light illuminated the entire corridor on the second floor. Reflected by the water on the first floor, it illuminated the entire front hall, allowing Kraft to see the door in front of him clearly.
.
There was obviously no deadbolt on the inside, so he bumped it again in disbelief. This time he heard the sound of metal amid the impact, and the lock bounced off the wooden board and then fell back. The door was actually locked from the outside.
of.
Now I can basically confirm that I was moved to a similar but different place in my sleep. This is obviously a hotel where the owner is not in business.
But knowing this is of no benefit to the current situation. The light at the entrance of the stairs quickly increased, and the thing's speed increased. It was coming here, and the wet and sticky software made a heavy and disgusting sound as it moved.
It gave up its disguise and moved forward unobtrusively in the corridor. Its boneless fleshy limbs flapped and stretched, more than one of them, and made an overlapping "plop-plop-plop" wet and sticky sound on the ground.
The hard and angular structure above bites into the wooden board and earth-rock mixed wall every time it is photographed, destroying and nailing the objects in contact, penetrating, and the sound of impact is continuous, piercing through the bones that should be contained inside.
Muscles and mucous membranes form tissues that assist walking and grasping.
All the softness is an illusion, to cover up the predatory part wrapped inside, the malicious and twisted side.
It is making its own voice, an undisguised voice.
The neighing sound was mixed with countless voices. It seemed that multiple vocal organs were vibrating, and there were a bunch of squirming throats emitting tiny whispers, one after another, going back and forth endlessly.
Resonance, amplification, forming gloomy songs on several tracks like a choir, containing laws that ordinary people cannot understand, are transmitted to all hearing creatures through sound waves in the air.
The song does not conform to human musical aesthetics. It always follows a low or high rhythm with the most inappropriate continuation. It lacks a leader to coordinate the individual performances, like a divided will where each fragment has its own tongue.
The uncontrollable irritability arises from deep within, clawing at the subjective consciousness. I want to draw my sword on the spot to split the source of the sound, chop it into pieces, and use all conceivable methods to destroy it. I can no longer endure the noise for even one second.
Kraft covered his head, feeling that the obsessive-compulsive disorder he had not experienced for a long time was acting up again, intending to control himself to realize the non-self thoughts in his mind and stop this voice.
He pressed his knuckles against the weak points of his skull on both sides, using pain to suppress this irrational tendency. His thoughts were filled with anger and noisy noises, and he needed more energy to fight against its interference, unable to think about anything else.
The blasphemous song was approaching, and the light followed it, getting brighter and brighter, to the point of being somewhat dazzling.
It poured down from the second floor, flowing on the surface and under the water, as if it had gained substance, moving in the fluid, spreading along the salty seawater, and surging toward Kraft.
The shiny liquid and flowing light converge into a shiny film-like thing in the transparent water, which reminds people of the difficult-to-remove grease on the water surface, signifying the deterioration of water quality, resulting in greasiness and subsequent putrefaction and stench.
The previously mild and pure white color was mixed with uneven colors and became uneven. The different white colors blended into a ball, and the gray white rolled out from the inside, like a wound with open flesh, or like a gaping mouthpart under the smooth epidermis.
open.
Realizing that the target had no way to escape, it no longer tried hard to hide itself, but instead stretched out and slowly approached the stairs along the corridor.
The complex and noisy sounds were still reverberating, traveling along the periosteum and ossicle chain into the skull, carrying vibrations that confused the sensors.
Kraft released the hand that was pressing his head, stood upright while holding on to the table next to him, pulled out his long sword and inserted it into the crack of the door, trying to pry open the door.
The craftsman who made this sword used the best materials at his grandfather's request, and forged and tempered it repeatedly. The sharp blade can cut through leather armor, and can even withstand metal regardless of the length of use.
But obviously its design did not include the use of a crowbar, nor could it cut open the iron lock in a narrow gap. The weight of Kraft's entire body pressed the sword into a large arc, and it would approach the elastic limit if it went down further.
, but still to no avail.
He felt that he could not escape unless the boss built a second door somewhere. This suggestion can be made in the next life. But as the saying goes, "When facing a beast, you have to face it head-on and look it in the eye...so that you can
Die a dignified death."
Although the situation is slightly different now, the truth is still the same.
The educational environment of the alien soul formed his attitude of not being afraid of ghosts and gods, and he firmly believed that no matter what living things were, they would eventually die. Unless it was a whale, he didn't know any creature that could survive a critical blow.
And the descendants of those who have been trained for a long time are not necessarily as familiar with swords as they are with pen and ink, and they have a bloody spirit that has not faded from the third generation of the family.
He gave up thinking about escaping and concentrated his last energy on making a more reasonable choice.
The anger aroused by the annoying noise, and the courage transformed from the extreme fear of the unknown, mixed together brought a little bit of desperate belief, confirming the only choice.
Kraft straightened up and took a deep breath. The cold, moist air poured into his lungs, cooling his body and mind at the same time.
The sword body that lost pressure rebounded and reset, and got stuck between the cracks in the door, making a metallic buzzing vibration.
"It's not made for wood."
He grasped the hilt of the sword tightly to calm the itchy trembling in his palm, and pulled the sword out from the crack of the door with his backhand. The familiar center of gravity made him feel at ease.
The Kraft of this world has imagined countless times what his first real battle would be like, and he would never tire of slashing with his training sword for more than ten years, hoping to gain a glory on the battlefield that would be passed down to future generations.
.
He still remembered that he was fourteen years old, when his long body was finally suitable for wielding standard weapons. Old Wood handed him this specially made sword without a smile on his face. The look in his eyes made him puzzled.
["I didn't want to give it to you..."]
At that time, Kraft was immersed in the joy of getting the gift he had dreamed of. He wanted to go outside and try the sword immediately. His doubts about his grandfather's words and deeds were quickly forgotten.
From then on, he used the sword day after day and took good care of it until it was like an arm and he knew it better than his own arm.
But at this moment, he inexplicably recalled this memory, understood the contradictory look in his eyes, and the second half of the sentence hidden behind his gray beard was no longer ambiguous.
【...But I'm afraid you will need it one day】
Well, now is the day to use it. The only regret is that the enemy never teaches you the step-by-step process, nor does he teach you the martial ethics of knightly duels.
He thought he could start with a fully armored horse and charge against infantry, but he didn't expect that it would be such a difficult operation for the first time in his life. He had to fight an unknown creature with light equipment in a harsh situation without followers or plate armor.
But it's not bad. Optimists believe that when fighting against animals whose physical strength is far superior to theirs, especially those that will die with or without armor, staying flexible is not necessarily inferior to plate armor.
The credibility of this statement is doubtful, and it is only half a level higher than the Slide Tiger. But what he needs now is not credibility, but a little psychological comfort that allows him to face the light source on the stairs.
For the first time tonight, he did not retreat, but approached the existence.
Under the crisis of life and death, the spirit was unprecedentedly concentrated, the muscle memory was transformed into standard and powerful movements, and the sword was held in both hands to advance steadily in the water.
His consciousness was mobilized, and he remembered the positions of the tables and chairs around him despite the crazy neighing sound. The light shed just facilitated his observation. The entire front hall was reconstructed in his mind, forming a three-dimensional structure that could be used.
I don't know if it was an illusion, but when his rationality prompted his consciousness to recover, his body became stronger, and the physical strength encouraged the growth of his will to resist.
Kraft stared at the stairs, forcing his mind to adapt to this feeling. He must have the ability to face it head-on.
The dirty white light spread further, the distorted and overlapping sounds gradually increased, and the malicious existence crawled to the upper level of the stairs, its flexible body stretching downwards. It was an indescribable and unnatural thing.
Following his hearing, Kraft's vision suffered tremendous torture, and just seeing this object made him extremely uncomfortable.
It was a brachiopod structure that grew out of a huge body. It had no suckers. The uneven pale skin was covered with crowded grooves. Luminous tumors of different sizes were randomly distributed and gathered in clusters on the bulges.
It hung down stiffly, its tip twitching and curling.
In contrast, the hair-like dense branches dance wildly on the surface, showing an activity that is completely opposite to the main trunk. They are struggling, reaching out to all sides like self-consciousness, grabbing everything that can be grasped.
With the appearance of this limb, the roaring song reached a new climax, which was the sound coming from the insect-shaped holes on the thicker and longer tentacle branches. They sprayed out the white glowing mucus together with the airflow, like aliens.
Play the flute.
And they're not the most unacceptably bad organ out there.
Many branches squeezed out yellowish bones that looked abnormally sharp during contraction. The mouthparts of the longitudinally distributed fissures were filled with such things, biting the surrounding tissue mercilessly while swaying, and rolled into the cyst cavity.
After chewing, only half a piece of the same kind was left around.
On the broken branch stumps, new white granulations grow at a visible speed, filling the gaps and maintaining this incomprehensible feast.
Even in mankind's deepest nightmares, such chaotic and terrifying things have never been seen.