初次尝了销魂少妇

Chapter 780: Remains

Morris, marveling at the sight before him, approached the temple’s exterior wall. He adjusted his eye socket, which retracted to make way for a series of lenses that slid out along a copper track, allowing him to meticulously examine the ancient, weathered dark green stones. “Such flawless craftsmanship,” he observed, “as if these stones weren’t assembled but rather ‘grown’ into this formation…”

Vanna, reaching out to touch the temple walls, shared her sense of familiarity. “I’ve encountered such structures in dreams,” she said, “and during moments of deep prayer… It’s not uncommon for saints to have visions of towering walls or vast stones stacked high… It seems these visions were alluding to this place…”

Standing before the vast doorway, Lucretia casually tossed a piece of white paper into the shadowy corridor beyond. As soon as the paper left her fingers, it burst into flames, transforming into a figure of fire that resembled a human shape, flying briefly into the darkness before fading.

“Inside… there’s a deep stillness,” remarked Miss Witch with a note of hesitation, “but my magic seems to weaken swiftly as if it’s being suppressed by some unseen force.”

Turning his gaze from the dark interior of the temple back to his companions, Duncan pondered for a moment before raising his hand in a subtle gesture. Suddenly, a pale green flame sparked into existence from nowhere, gently enveloping each member of the group.

Nina initially reacted with a jump but quickly became fascinated, playfully shaping the flames on her arm into a ball and tossing it back and forth in her hand. Vanna and Morris experimented with the flames, engaging in physical movements; Vanna swung a great sword several times, and Morris’s joints emitted loud cracks, while Lucretia watched with a mixture of intrigue and discomfort. She was not entirely at ease with her father’s tendency to conjure flames on a whim and appeared visibly tense in the moment.

However, it was Anomaly 077 who showed the most acute reaction, almost instantly leaping into the air with a scream. It jumped nearly two meters high, shouting in panic as it landed: “Fire fire fire… The Captain’s ablaze, I’m burning, ah ah ah~!”

Shirley, reacting swiftly, conjured a bone spur from her back and knocked the dessicated corpse to the ground with a blunt force. “Quiet down with the howling,” she scolded, “it’s only a little fire – even Dog wouldn’t make such a fuss… hey, stop your trembling!”

“Dog” responded with a jittery, typewriter-like chatter: “I… I’m not trembling… I’m perfectly calm…”

Turning to address his oddly spirited crew with a blend of resignation and bewilderment, Duncan couldn’t help but compare their reaction to the dignified, solemn, or emotionally charged preparations of explorers in other tales. Facing the brink of world-altering discoveries, those explorers might reflect solemnly, mournfully, or even draw on poignant memories of loved ones. Yet here were his “companions,” treating the edge of disaster with the casual air of a day at the market. With patience, he explained, “We stand on the threshold of lands where ancient deities slumber. Your minds will soon be tested like never before. Thus, I envelop you in flames, not as mere spectacle but as a shield against the temple’s ancient influences.”

Anomaly 077, with a sudden spark of comprehension, exclaimed, “Ah, so it’s akin to preemptively striking the hostage to spare them from worse fates…”

Without missing a beat, Shirley knocked him down again, yet upon reflection, she conceded with a nod, “You know, you might actually have a point.”

“Why hit me then!?” protested the animated corpse as it picked itself up, shooting a glare.

Shirley, unfazed, retorted, “Because it looked like the captain was itching to do that himself,” and then, with a playful glance towards Duncan, added, “Right, Captain?”

Duncan, maintaining a stoic facade, nodded. Yet, as he did, he sensed an inexplicable shift in the atmosphere. Was it his imagination, or did the air itself transform with the application of his protective flames? Since their arrival on the island, a somber, oppressive aura had cloaked them all. But now, as if dispelled by the light of his flames, the group’s inherent liveliness seemed to resurface with renewed vigor.

With a thoughtful frown, Duncan felt a deeper connection to the island’s mysteries, then redirected his focus towards the darkened entrance ahead…

Their cautious steps into the temple disturbed a silence that had persisted for eons. The pale green glow of Duncan’s flames cast their shadows against the ancient, discolored stone walls and floor, creating a tapestry of elongated, distorted shapes. The vastness of the palace interior, coupled with the intensifying scent of the sea and the ambiguous sounds that filled the air, created an atmosphere of overwhelming depth and mystery.

“Mind the shadows at your feet, and be wary of the deceitful silhouettes cast by our light,” Vanna advised, leading the way with a vigilant eye. She cautioned the group against heeding any voices that did not belong to their own, adding, “And…”

Her warning glance fell on Morris, “Do not touch anything here.”

“I haven’t touched anything,” Morris quickly defended, a shade of embarrassment in his tone as he raised his hands in a gesture of innocence, “I was merely observing with close interest.”

As Duncan led the group through the expansive temple, his vigilant eyes meticulously surveyed the intricacy of its grand design. The pale green illumination from his flame trailed his gaze, casting light into the shadowy recesses of this ancient structure. It was during this careful observation that Duncan’s pace noticeably slowed.

Above them, a vast, vine-like structure, pale and eerie, stretched across the ceiling. It snaked its way along the curvature of the dome, traversing the wall to thread itself through an opening at the top, vanishing into the further mysteries of the edifice.

Shirley, catching the direction of Duncan’s attention, instinctively lifted her eyes to follow his gaze. The sight momentarily seized her heart – a reaction shared by both. Her mind reeled twice over, teetering on the edge of insanity. The protective flames that encased her, however, flared up, pulling her psyche back from the abyss. These flames, burning at the periphery of her consciousness, mitigated the profound shock induced by the realization that they were in the presence of a god’s remains.

With a sudden clarity, Lucretia whispered, “It’s the limbs of a god…” Her eyes, wide with awe, scanned the pale structures they had observed from a distance, now understood to be emanating from this very place.

With a hint of humor in his voice, Dog remarked, “Seeing it up close truly differs from a distant glimpse. I almost believed I felt my heart beat once more.”

Duncan issued a casual yet stern warning, “Be cautious not to fixate on these limbs for too long,” before urging the group onward.

As they delved further into the depths of the temple, the sights became increasingly surreal.

Enormous tentacles, some as robust as ship masts, others sprawling across the ceiling wide enough to rival the breadth of medium-sized vessels, entwined in a chaotic embrace. These tentacles pervaded every corridor and chamber like an invasive root system, intertwining with the architecture itself. They seemed to both nurture and consume the palace, integrating and outright replacing the original structural elements in some places.

In one particularly striking hall, the amalgamation of tentacles and unidentifiable organic structures nearly occupied the entire space, leaving the explorers in a state of bewildered awe. The mere sight of this biological marvel, devoid of any divine mental influence, was enough to push the fragile-minded to the brink of madness.

Duncan had every reason to believe that this overwhelming display represented merely a fraction of a larger, unseen entity. Much more of this is likely to lie concealed beneath the island or deep within the ocean’s abyss.

The temple, he surmised, served as a mere point of contact—a vestibule for terrestrial pilgrims to commune with a vast marine deity. The Leviathan Queen, extending merely a portion of her tentacles from the depths, created this sanctuary to engage with the humans once under her protection.

Their journey through the temple culminated at the threshold of a long corridor, which ended not in another chamber but before a vast, lake-like pool of water, suggesting an indoor sea. This unexpected vista marked a pause in their exploration, hinting at the profound connections and mysteries lying ahead.

They found themselves in a vast circular chamber, where the floor gently sloped downwards to form a depression that cradled a softly glowing, circular pool. This pool, occupying the majority of the room’s space, was surrounded by stone pavement. The walls around this chamber were punctuated with numerous doors and windows, through which countless tentacles, vessels, and what appeared to be neural threads wove their way. These appendages entered the room through the openings, plunging into the pool’s depths and merging into an intricate, complex structure that was beyond the capacity of human sight to fully discern.

Parts of this massive limb structure had emerged from the water, lying inert on the stone paving. Close to where these parts lay sprawled, there were bits of debris, suggesting some form of decay or destruction.

Overwhelmed by the scale of what they encountered, Shirley finally voiced her disbelief, “Is the building really this big?” She was puzzled, feeling as if the ‘hall’ they were in was almost as expansive as the entire palace they had seen from the outside.

“Have you noticed that too?” Morris responded, casting a knowing look at Shirley before surveying the surroundings with a contemplative gaze. “The spatial dimensions here… they seem to defy logic. It’s either significantly larger on the inside, or… once we passed through a specific door or corridor, we stepped out of the palace into a connected, secretive space.”

Vanna, meanwhile, stayed quiet, her attention fixed on the lifeless, pale appendages near the water’s edge. Her face was a mask of complexity, tinged with a sense of melancholy.

She was surrounded by whispers, the constant sound of waves in the background, yet she could not make sense of any of it. From the moment she stepped into the palace, the clear, guiding presence of the goddess had faded, leaving her unable to hear Her voice anymore.

Duncan stood close to Vanna, his expression one of intense concentration and doubt.

He had come to this place with the expectation of engaging in a direct dialogue with Gomona, even in her peculiar state of being “dead.” He anticipated that he would be able to hear her voice in some form—be it echoes, visions, spiritual presences, or something entirely different, similar to his encounters with other enigmatic beings in the past. Yet, there was silence.

All that remained was the long-perished remains of what once was, with every trace of essence vanished from the entity.