Chapter 316

It was an utterly terrifying and hallucinatory scene: the scaffolding of life instantly transformed into thorns bursting outward from within.

The form was frozen in place, bloated and rigid, like a lacquered wooden statue, its surface lifted by dense growths inside, revealing patches of expanding, darkening dot patterns, swollen with purplish, engorged lumps.

At the moment tension reached its limit, the skin ruptured completely, and the fluid that had gathered below sprayed out like mist, forming a swirling, dense curtain.

The malformed spines, cast as shadows by flickering, dying light, seemed still to extend, emitting a grating, tooth-grinding, jarring sound.

The shadow of the bone spines imprinted on the eyeballs, and through humanity's innate empathy, transmitted paralyzing terror directly into the observer's mind, piercing courage that had barely formed and was already on the verge of shattering.

Eyes capable of facing the blade would involuntarily drift away, instinctively avoiding the sight.

Yet the source of this murderous malice had not even appeared—it was like a collector displaying his most prized possession, unveiling the curtain at the perfect moment and proudly presenting it to the guest, savoring the terror of these mortal souls.

【Performative】

Only a pair of eyes never moved, or rather, had never once landed upon this unveiling stage.

He had heard footsteps before the actor stepped onto the stage; after the hyper-expressive visual display, he saw the mechanism.

An intangible, formless thing, existing in a dimension beyond ordinary sensory perception, touched that poor soul at one moment.

It was not still; it was a flute, a rhythmic current of air, carrying a discernible pattern of oscillation, as clean and clear as a skeleton stripped of tissue under X-ray.

【Spiritual Entity】

Precisely, a portion of the spiritual entity transmitted a targeted oscillation onto the target.

Though he had never before induced this oscillation alone, its meaning was obvious—extreme osteogenesis.

The deep-dweller's rapid ability to construct new bone was isolated, then triggered in the wrong location and in the wrong manner, becoming a lethal weapon.

In terms of purpose, this was correct.

His earlier hypothesis was confirmed; Kraft immediately made his judgment:

"Scatter! Go separate ways!"

They absolutely must not stay together; to this thing, one person and ten people made no difference—no amount of conventional force could alter the situation.

The team no longer cared where the order came from; at the first warning, they shattered and scattered in all directions.

Green did not stop Kraft's overstepping; after a brief glance, he seemed still immersed in the previous horror, delayed two breaths before moving, then hastily chose the most unwise direction and turned to run straight ahead.

As if to shed weight, he even discarded his damp outer robe, but the reflective inner chainmail made his entire back glow, rendering him even more conspicuous.

Kraft abandoned the torch and dashed into the nearby fork, suppressing his presence as much as possible, his figure vanishing instantly into the darkness.

He sensed no further trace of the spiritual entity that had released the "spell." His brain raced at full speed during the run, competing with his body for air, focused entirely on how to respond.

Was he facing something formless and immaterial?

No, he immediately dismissed the idea. Past experience showed no spiritual entity could exist independently of a physical form—even those controlling fungi could only leap between hyphae.

The sight of the empty skeleton earlier also proved the opponent was physical, and like other deep-dwellers, required human tissue to function.

It was nearby—just not on the ground.

The dark ceiling above was sliced into striped bands; his narrow field of view limited his angles, but something moved in the blind spot above the rock wall.

It was large; he heard irregular, high-frequency footfalls striking the rock surface, the clattering echoes like an eight-legged horse galloping, yet as nimble and swift as a spider darting through a web.

【Resolve Quickly?】

Its attention was mostly fixed on Green nearby—there was a chance to end this in one strike.

The moment he thought of it, no conscious effort was needed: the dim environment sharpened in his mind, the layered rock walls becoming transparent.

Two layers of rock away, Green was slowing down, as if exhausted or trying to orient himself.

But anyone with even basic training could see his steps and breathing remained perfectly controlled, always poised to shift position instantly—ideal for a sudden turn to ambush a pursuer.

Unfortunately, this opponent was not human; no matter how many times he covertly glanced back, he could not locate it.

The others had long since been led down diverging paths, vanished entirely from his perception.

Kraft also slowed, sliding along the rock wall that seemed ready to collapse at any moment, matching the speed on the other side.

The priest's exhaustion was at least half feigned; Kraft was genuinely on the verge of collapse.

He could clearly feel the spiritual entity's filament stretched taut like a bowstring, trembling with surging pain, as if about to snap and plummet suddenly.

Intense mental activity also manifested physically: his stamina drained rapidly; every movement required battling phantom pain reflexes, and his consciousness could no longer clearly distinguish between spiritual illusions and real physical discomfort.

Perhaps they were all real—or perhaps pain was merely an illusion of life.

At least his mind remained sharp, and he even felt grateful he hadn't worn a chainmail underlayer—such gear was utterly useless here, only restricting movement.

The cold, damp air burned his lungs as he inhaled; he forced himself to suppress the urge to gasp, breathing slowly through his nose, maintaining a quiet, steady rhythm.

The "Stone Sword" could still be used—but how many times remained uncertain.

He had to treat every opportunity as his last, striking only when the chance was as great as possible, even if it carried risk.

Of course, the risk was not currently on him—it was on Green.

Though they could not communicate, the priest still naturally slowed his pace, occasionally letting his sword strike the rock surface unintentionally, producing a series of unmistakable, position-revealing clinks.

The bait was laid; there was no reason it wouldn't bite. Kraft gritted his teeth and extended his spiritual senses upward, hoping to locate the entity before it struck.

He felt his perception of this perspective had become clearer.

What had once resembled sight and hearing now felt more like touch—a bodily touch—and his actions were like extending arms in all directions, groping through darkness.

The boundary of perception was the farthest point his "fingertips" could reach; he could only detect whether something was there, not its shape—so it remained blurred.

The "hands" blindly groped, transmitting shapes and contours into his consciousness.

Green, stone, water, stone, still stone.

Perhaps the improvised lure had failed—maybe it hadn't followed?

The "fingertips" touched something—something similar in nature, ethereal and insubstantial.

Kraft froze.

The oscillation—the very one he had just witnessed—appeared on the thing, surging straight toward him. The sound of galloping hooves rose from behind and above.

"Damn—it's coming for me!"