Chapter 108: Retreat

"Walker!" William rushed forward eagerly, wanting to bring the returning companion back to the group and leave this dangerous place sooner.

The flame moved with his motion, the halo swayed, shadows receded like water, revealing a newly formed cave composed of countless small cross-sections as if hammered open by giant hammers, a uniform, circular tunnel space forcibly hollowed out between its edges and corners.

It was no different from the caves seen before, familiar beyond familiarity, and precisely because of this, it sent a shudder from the depths of the heart. Like the countless seemingly unintentional repeated details mentioned in a story that had been building up for a long time, exploding into uproarious laughter when the truth was revealed at the end, cheering for the culprit who created them.

Was it that thing disguising its trajectory as the appearance of a rock cave, or were these unnatural forms of caves, none shaped by geological factors like wind, sand, or flowing water, regardless of size, all the work of its hand?

If so, they were tiny reptiles walking in the footprints of a giant, mistaking them for a blessed land given by heaven, completely unaware of what might pass by at any moment.

【There is no such thing as a "safe" mine tunnel】

The Witness could not escape this obvious fact; he was standing in such a "footprint." That thing might turn back on a whim at any time, burying them forever in the ground of a foreign land, after which this mine tunnel would be sealed just like the old mine tunnels, leaving behind a so-called "accidental collapse" rumor of unknown meaning.

Fear of the insurmountable existence made him slow his steps slightly, but he found he had walked far beyond the distance he perceived.

The underground crossroads behind them was covered by the darkness closing in from behind; they had walked at least thirty steps, plunging straight into the passage where the aftershocks of fear and the ringing in the ears had not yet faded.

Even William's thick nerves sensed something strange, but his somewhat sluggish mind seemed stuck at a certain moment, a motionless yet vivid thought encased in resin amber, frozen bubbles in hard ice, driving his feet forward toward the companions who were close yet distant.

The sailors following him were the same; no one thought it was wrong that they still hadn't caught up with Walker. Even though that face was like a carrot hanging on a donkey's face, seemingly within arm's reach, yet always kept at the edge of the halo, as if it were a floating object on the surface of the shadow, stuck on the surface of black water, retreating as the light advanced.

Seeming to notice William's hesitation, the cheeks on both sides pulled apart slightly again; on the wider, flatter face, the corners of the mouth lifted a bit, intensifying the expression that resembled a smile.

The strained image was even more unnatural than a certain scarred companion in William's memory; that companion had only been slashed in the face, yet one could still see the vivid expression beneath the ferocity. This intact face could at best be called forced; behind the complete surface, everything was utterly dead, as if frozen stiff by a cold current, tendons congealed into blocks.

Behind the gaping mouth seams were not the yellowish-white unhealthy teeth of the sailors, yet the depth was shallow; rather than a throat, it looked more like a black light-absorbing plane that could not be illuminated.

The three men's strides were nearly identical. One sailor passed him on the right while moving forward, gradually approaching the front edge of the torch's illumination range, reaching out into the darkness to grasp Walker's hand. He received no response, grasped at empty air, and naturally took a few more steps forward, walking exactly into the shadow where the wide face floated.

His shoulders passed beneath the wide jaw, not yet touching any solid object, as if walking silently into another world.

The sound of crab legs striking stones rose and fell; thoughts were congealed, and in the struggle to move, a simple logic could not be worked out.

William was tired. When he was younger, he was a man who could show off his muscles on the deck, although he rarely had the chance to display them to the opposite sex. But that had long departed with his father, the old captain, who handed over the helm. Captain Mr., who always liked to drink and boast, was far less physically fit than in his prime; even if he hadn't degenerated to the point of being unable to lift a sword, comparing himself to the sailors was truly a bit of a struggle for him.

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Once self-discipline was lost, no matter how good the foundation was before, the body expanded just as quickly. For the sake of dignity, the belt was tightened around the belly, but fat would not cease to exist just because it couldn't be seen; it still practically slowed down the speed.

The other sailor also gradually passed him; after walking a distance slightly greater than the steps from the church door to the saint statue, he completely left the torch flame.

The only light source in the cave was fading; the combustible material wrapped around it was gradually peeling away, trembling as it neared extinction.

The halo was shrinking; Walker's face had not disappeared from his vision, always remaining at the edge of the light that was getting closer. The flickering firelight retreated to the point where even a toe with a slightly larger step could touch the dark area. The long, exhausting journey finally closed the distance to it, allowing him to see the half-closed eyelids flattened.

Crab legs struck the stones; the nearly stagnant mind found a detour, switching to a more direct description.

【Carapace】

It was a hard material like a carapace making contact with the stone walls, but how could Walker have a carapace? That was far too big, wasn't it?

The ridiculous thought flashed by; the notion seemed to be thawing, no longer imprisoned.

The thought of advancing and welcoming Walker back shrank like a flame until only a point remained; dark thoughts occupied his mind: Why did he come here, and how far had he walked?

He suddenly realized he had walked too far, so far that the unchanging rock cave felt strange, as if waking up in the captain's cabin of another sailing ship of the same design. The furnishings were the same, yet the sense of strangeness gripped his heart in an instant.

Sourness and the trembling of his heartbeat spread together; the skin was touched by the sour taste, the tip of the tongue tasted the tremor, discomfort, alienation, the unease of leaving the comfort zone.

He leaned on the torch and gagged; this action caused the dying flame to fall to the ground, on the verge of extinction. In the flickering light, a red-faced, bearded man stared at a pale, wide, flat face.

No, it could not be called a stare; there were no eyeballs placed behind the sunken eyelids, nor was there a tongue or throat laid out behind the gaping lips.

Another face leaned in, followed by a third, emerging from the surrounding darkness that threatened to drown the remaining glow.

William recognized them; the owners of these two faces had just walked past him. He could not mistake the faces of his sailors, now wide, flat, and lacking three-dimensionality.

Once, after drinking, he crumpled a parchment log; when he spread it out again to dry, it looked just like this.

"What hellish thing..." The mouth, steeped in maritime culture, formed a curse a step faster than the brain; it was hard to say whether it was a swear word or a statement.

Death, or perhaps an even more terrible fate, approached; the surging fear was not as intense as imagined.

The rock walls with different colors above and below, the faces worshipped and prominently depicted by the segmented, long-bodied creatures, were logically connected and coherent.

Perhaps he had been mentally prepared all along; even he found it surprising—that at the moment his hand reached for the sword hilt, he still had the leisure to realize he was experiencing a world-shattering thriller story.

The Ice Sea, the Temm River, Venden Port, Comfort Port; clear rivers, yellow and turbid rivers; stone-paved avenues, dirt roads covered in dust...

He couldn't remember who said it: the things you care about most are only thought of when you are swept up in a storm.

And William felt regret that the most authentic segment of his life, the one most capable of stirring primal and intense emotions, would be buried here in silence, unable to even find the most tasteless drunkard in a tavern as an audience.

The blade swung weakly at the three unmoving floating faces. Yes, he was no longer young; his physical condition was not what it used to be; he had unknowingly consumed too much stamina.

The firelight, metal striking faces, the clanging sound of metal and stone colliding; the sharp edge cut through a thin layer of skin but bounced off the strangely extremely hard material.

"Heavenly Father, in view of my donation..."

The following hard strike and bright flame descended together, carving into the faces before they had time to retreat with the darkness.

The third person to brush past him today, only this one brought his own torch.

"Who?!" The event happened suddenly; William didn't know whether the Heavenly Father had sent an angel or an audience member, so he reflexively asked.

"Heavenly Father!"