Chapter 179: Destructive Application

Human physiology precludes direct visual exposure to this thing; its light causes retinal pain even through closed eyelids, stubbornly seeping through eyelid gaps, attempting to liquefy the vitreous humor into the same white, viscous, acidic fluid.

Yet it emits no heat; skin exposed to it feels only a chilling touch, like that of a marine soft-bodied creature, carrying an unknown mechanism's power that unconsciously lures one into rapture.

The tentacles approaching the target rose together, detaching from the main body, and this very motion generated a thin, color-shifting mist around it—seen by eyes with blurred object projection as a robed angel upon a holy throne, opening a hundred arms and a thousand fingers in embrace.

And that powder which burned mucous membranes scattered like flame, scorching countless microscopic needle-points, stabbing every single neuron.

Approaching it drowns human vision, smell, and touch in incomprehensible stimuli, while fungal crevices echo with layered chants.

"So anyone who faces it directly may never again enjoy a choir," Kraft closed his eyes, briefly holding his breath, observing within his mental organ this thing unfit for mortal senses.

Within the range of mental perception, its full form remains unseen; elongated tentacles stretch behind into invisible distances, along which star-like fungal buds sprout. While destroying everything it encounters, it propagates and cultivates new fungal colonies.

Stepping sideways to evade a descending tentacle, more limbs surged forward like sea anemones closing in, among them distributed fungal spirits under thread-like control and swollen air sacs primed to exhale.

He no longer focused on those things, turning inward instead to trigger a highly dangerous act.

The stony inlays embedded between the muscles and bones of his left arm activated, becoming as lively as before, and after shattering, their vibrational intensity in his senses surpassed even their former state.

The push toward the manifest plane was amplified by mental force, rapidly intensifying—the familiar trend of dimensional transit emerged once more.

To achieve a successful transit, the correct choice now would be to actively control speed, keeping it within the bounds of conscious control, like cycling down a rocky slope, needing to intermittently squeeze the brakes to avoid being flung off.

Then, within a span of ten to twenty seconds, or up to half a minute, the body could transition relatively smoothly into another plane.

But completing this process now was impossible. The fungal spirits, having occupied the crawling creature's shell and thus acquired part of its abilities, clearly sensed this too; in less than ten seconds, countless tentacles would seize the prey before them.

Though their simple minds deemed this small creature's behavior incomprehensible, this did not prevent them from merging into the shell, becoming part of it. Nor did they calculate whether chasing a target smaller than the tiniest tentacle was worth the effort.

But Kraft did not seek escape into the manifest plane. He did not choose to control speed; instead, he pushed against the trend of the two worlds drawing near, accelerating the reverse fall toward the limit of his control.

The two worlds approached rapidly, causing subtle sensory disorientation—part of the space alternated between a dim realm of coiled tentacles and flourishing fungi, and a dusty, empty old house.

This was a sign of imminent transit失控; the fungal spirits vaguely sensed the changing surroundings, hesitating over the prey now within grasp.

The mental organ added one final surge at the critical threshold; all sensory input lost control entirely, snapping shut and overlapping, "colliding" together in a manner transcending traditional spatial concepts.

It was an uncontrollable transformation, spreading from the point of ignition across the entire sensory range of the mental organ in near-zero time. Kraft felt himself at the heart of the storm; the embedded object within his arm hummed with ecstatic vibration, transmitting through his body like clashing blades or a struck tuning fork.

He could "see" countless identical dim stony particles seeping from beneath his skin, coalescing into tiny hexagonal crystalline forms, filling the fractures left by shattered prisms, replacing human tissue—as if mineral growth had been sped up, reconstructing a certain form.

Yet this was merely the most inconspicuous part of the changes his action triggered. This artificially induced dimensional chaos was manifesting destructive power as desired—and even exceeding expectations.

The surrounding space froze instantaneously, then, as in the accidental incident at the Haven of Comfort, appeared with overlapping afterimages, softening like melting oil paintings—this was the manifestation of corresponding parts of the two worlds overlapping chaotically.

The mottled, scaled tentacles froze before his nose, first blurring, then their colors stretched horizontally, as if slowly and irresistibly smeared by a trowel.

…

Kup awoke atop the church bell tower, his mind still lingering with the chaotic nausea of his first dimensional transit and the shock of witnessing that celestial body whose form he could no longer recall.

He fumbled to his feet, pulling his foot off Martin's hand, and leaned out the window to look down.

Sunlight bathed the village surrounded by sparse woods and the ornate road; the others had completed their perimeter duties and gathered inside the church, leaving the outdoors empty. They had indeed returned, but saw no trace of Kraft.

He leaned half his body out the window, scanning the entire village, and noticed a smudge he could not erase in his field of view.

It was a circular region at the village's edge; at first glance, he thought it was heat distortion, but its distortion persisted abruptly, radiating an indescribable chill and strangeness—a turbid vortex on clear seawater, stirred by some unknowable force below.

Landscapes merged with similar yet utterly alien things, accompanied by vividly colored shards and filamentous strands appearing out of nowhere, mixed with fragments resembling wounds and bone fragments that inspired terror, along with the Bai Guang that had pursued him during his escape.

That light too was supple and twisted, arriving through unstable gaps, carrying a trans-species, empathizable sensation from the luminous source—a multiplicity of hysterical, rending agony, piercing straight to the depths of the spirit, stabbing the soul.

Kup could not help turning his head away from this sensation, trying to comprehend what had happened—but gained nothing.

When he looked again, the changes in that region had subsided. Martin had awakened sometime earlier and stood beside him, clutching his head in pain.

Amidst a building melted like candle wax dripping into threads, a familiar figure stood rigid at the center of chaos.

"To hell with this, come down with me!" Kup kicked open the bell tower exit and tumbled down the stairs, sprinting at top speed out of the church toward that spot.