Chapter 305: Giant Steps

In a silent understanding, the crew members took their seats one by one and gripped the gunwales.

As if the start of some unspoken competition, the oarsmen of both teams exerted force almost simultaneously, slowly pushing the boats away from the lakeshore, sliding heavily across the lake surface toward different directions.

The shape of the other boat blurred and vanished in the thick fog, and the sound of the oars cutting through the water disappeared as well.

Although their relationship was never particularly good, this sense of isolation was still quite unpleasant, like being cut off from the only link to human society and cast into an unpredictable, treacherous realm like a disconnected fishing float.

The lighthouse behind shrank to the size of a Kong Dong, rising upward after losing the boat's position, swaying blindly left and right.

Until that guiding light for the return journey also became a flickering speck of noise, and the last object available for judging position vanished, they began to feel the illusion of rowing in empty water.

Continuously stirring the water ripples, yet feeling the boat stuck in place, neither getting closer to the silhouettes in the lake nor farther from the lighthouse's light point.

Green stopped the oarsman who had unconsciously sped up his movements, pointing to the clear, dark lake water—they were best not to attract any attention.

Even the faint sound of waves lapping against the shore disappeared from perception along with the lakeshore, leaving only the slight stirring sound of the oars, and occasionally, from extremely far away, the hollow sound of a stalactite loosening from the cave ceiling and falling, or something entering the water.

Lighting was also strictly limited; except for one oil lamp maintaining minimal illumination, all open flames were extinguished before departure.

Tense faces, uneasy faces, expressionless faces, gathered within the light that could barely illuminate both the bow and stern of the boat, waiting for the lake's answer to the explorers.

The lake remained silent.

"Have you told them about the possible situations?" Kraft asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Everyone here is experienced." Green met every pair of eyes; the current situation left him reasonably satisfied. Being able to remain silent while knowing what they might face was good enough.

Fear was not the issue; appropriate fear would stimulate the spirit, keeping people in a relatively excited state, much like the nervousness before an exam.

"No, I didn't mean that." With Kraft's memory, he naturally remembered clearly that the few people on the boat were old faces from before, "I mean over there, that Theodore. Do they understand the situation?"

The priest's attitude was very calm: "I informed them of the situation here, including anything necessary to know and any necessary preparations."

"As stated before, Father Theodore is a smart man and can absorb some of it. As for the rest, faith and wisdom will help him overcome difficulties, just as we once did. I have fulfilled my duty."

It sounded like the informing process hadn't gone smoothly; Father Green wasn't a saint completely without temper.

There seemed to be a low chuckle, but perhaps linked to thoughts of their uncertain fate, it vanished as if it had never appeared.

The boat continued forward.

Time had already passed for quite a while; two oarsmen felt their arms ache and handed their positions over to others to take their place, retreating into the boat's belly.

The water behaved more calmly than imagined; they gradually grew accustomed to moving through the fog and began daring to lean out over the gunwales to observe the water surface and things further away.

The unchanging voyage altered their sense of time and distance; suddenly looking up, those silhouettes consisting only of black shadows seemed to have suddenly drawn closer by a stretch in the blink of an eye, appearing visually more massive and incredible.

As long as they didn't change direction, they should pass right by one of them.

They were roughly column-shaped with slightly thinner middles, perhaps supporting the ceiling of the Underground world; their lower bases were wide and solid, almost like islands rising from the lake bottom. The parts that looked most artificial were concentrated on this section, like mud nests built by termites beneath the giant pillars of an abandoned temple.

As the distance closed, the boat entered shallower waters; the lakebed rose toward the water surface, lifting the reefs out of the water.

Rocks of various shapes pierced through the fog, suddenly appearing in unexpected locations, sometimes directly in the path of travel, nearly causing a head-on collision.

The team had to light torches to increase visibility. The reinforced boat should be able to withstand a collision, but they didn't want to actually try it.

After brushing past them a few times, most people discovered the rocks formed a shape never seen or heard of before, not appearing in the natural world they knew and not easily explained by human creations.

These reefs were composed of rough, tightly fitting prisms, as if forged and then inserted one by one into the water, breaking at different heights, with every fracture surface having six sides and six angles.

It was easy to recall the dense hexagonal patterns carved in sewers, reminding them they were situated within an incomprehensible prototype of those patterns, approaching the source of nightmares.

"Just special terrain." Passing by again, the professor, with quick eyes and hands, grabbed one of the loose pieces and broke it off.

"Indeed rare; they exist only in places with past volcanic activity. A friend of mine who does maritime business said he was fortunate enough to see this kind of terrain near coastal volcanoes on the ice plains."

He didn't know if Captain William had seen it, but now he had to have seen it.

He passed the rock to the others to circulate, letting them observe its fracture surface; it was no different from ordinary cracked, weathered stones.

"Some scholars believe this requires magma to cool rapidly upon meeting water, following the same principle as breaking stones by fire and splashing water, except that under special conditions, the cracking is more regular."

An explanation, one that sounded quite reasonable.

The monks received some comfort, their awe of the unknown transforming into curiosity.

They seemed not to have figured it out yet; learning the formation principle didn't change their situation, but instead further indicated that the people who carved patterns in the sewers with sharp tools might have seen scenes exactly like this before falling into madness.

High temperature, melting, solidification.

Sometimes geological movements weren't the only thing capable of causing such effects; this was more like content found in royal tomb murals, where falling objects descended from the sky, melting and collapsing the earth wherever they went, turning it into a sea of fire.

【This explains everything】

Ruins of a scale like a city's reflection, and deep-seated activity of an intensity capable of causing earthquakes.

But there were still questions: why did it have to be hexagons? He could understand those vanished ancestors taking the naturally formed crack patterns on the rocks of the fallen land as symbols of divine revelation, new totems.

But why did those who returned also obsessively carve these large geometric patterns? Was it simply because they had arrived here and witnessed something?

In that case, they should have carved what they witnessed, right? Like some grotesque creature twisted by Moon Remains or Black Liquid.

Kraft still harbored doubts, but the thinking didn't last long.

The reefs ahead became increasingly dense, tugging at the minds of everyone on the boat; the oarsmen controlling the vessel were tense, striving to slow down and avoid the obstacles rushing toward them.

Occasionally, a rough scraping sensation came from below, meaning the shore was already very close. Through the clear water, one could look down and see the scene at the bottom.

Countless tightly fitted hexagonal jointed rocks rose in layers like stairs, lifting up until they emerged above the lake water, holding up a cluster of unfamiliar buildings before them.

It crouched beneath the giant pillars, collapsed and dilapidated, as deformed and twisted as its builders.

Thick fog moved freely in and out through the hollow doorways and windows of the buildings. There were no inhabitants, not even any signs of life, like seashells on a beach after the tide receded, their contents long abandoned.