Krafft's Anomaly Notes

Chapter 315 Transmission
【Ventilation】

A lake bed that breathes couldn't sound stranger.

Apart from these words, it is difficult to find a second description that can describe the appearance of the entire base supporting the lake being lifted up.

The frail body breathed short and deep, like a live fish thrown ashore, trying to filter more oxygen by swinging its gas exchange organs at high frequencies, but ultimately finding that it was of no avail.

The living elements of the air were decreasing, diluted by the gases that rose to the surface in large bubbles.

It seemed light, but it was as pungent as anything, burning fiercely on the oral and nasal mucosa and brain membranes. It was the kind of terrible flavor that sealed the scream in the blocked bronchial tube and fermented overmaturely - corrupt, suffocating, extreme.

The light painted his bloodless face with the comical pallor of a court buffoon, while his lips were a deep purple.

The fog was glowing, allowing the light to bypass obstacles and spread through it without any angle restrictions, over the side of the ship, into the belly of the ship, and crawl into the contracted and trembling pupils.

Along with the smell and light, there are a million voices, some roaring, some whispering, expressing the same meaning in different voices and languages, searching for thoughts that can understand them.

The surface of the water swelled and collapsed like an abscess, breaking into turbid waves higher than overhead, sweeping across.

Behind the gray-yellow water curtain, there are high prismatic walls rising up one after another, with hissing biomass filling the gaps. Those things that once lived in the buildings on the lake island have now been shaped into the most efficient form, using a force that exceeds the limits of the material to lift these giant pillars made of celestial remains from the bottom of the lake.

This slow movement alone causes the unbearable biomass to continue to collapse, peel off from the stone pillars to which it is attached, and be captured by the floating filter-feeding structure and reintegrate into it without any obstacles.

Fresh air is inhaled into a cavity that is longer and more complex than that of an organ, making a long sound like the call of a whale.

The sound wave came last but arrived first, passing through the body unimpeded, pulling the internal organs to vibrate at its frequency, almost breaking free from the control of the capsule and frenulum and joining in.

People with more acute perceptions might detect a hint of hidden melancholy, similar to the feeling of looking back at the hometown that is gradually receding behind you while on a long journey, with the rejection of the unfamiliar environment welling up in their hearts, but it is immediately overwhelmed by intense physical discomfort.

And in the brief contact, the spiritual senses touched something similar to their own nature in the "lake bed".

Its huge size and dark tones make it easy to spot.

But unlike the embryonic state of the fungus spirit and the sample spirit body, "it", or "they", are in an extremely mature state, no different from humans being pulled into the depths, but their shapes are disorganized, like clay sculptures that have been kneaded together but cannot be completely fused, piling up into grotesque clay hills.

Purely repressed pain flows through it, mobilizing its enormous volume and mass, activating the instincts carried in the columns built from celestial debris, and moving closer to its source.

The world perceived by the spiritual senses is as dim as a rapidly aging wall. The "color" is disappearing, moving towards an almost identical environment but with a monotonous and scarce background color. Two layers of different colors are pinched together and blended together unevenly.

But it is not enough. Size is both an advantage and a burden. With these, it is impossible to break through the final threshold and completely break down the barriers between levels.

So it is still trapped here, continuing its endless painful struggles and attempts. The instinctive desire and pain to return to the deeper level has been entangled into an almost tangible concept, boiling in this extremely huge spiritual body and transmitted to the moon's skeleton which is the main structure.

Ultimately, the authority to travel between different depths is expressed in distorted, sharp forms.

Thin and thin cracks visible to the naked eye radiated out, like transparent long whiskers whipping the space, and turbulent water burst out from it, mixed with severed fluorescent tissue.

A large number of luminous creatures can be seen swimming on the other side of the crack, actively colliding with this line of death. Most of them are fragmented and disintegrated, and a few of them enter the world with the water flow at the cost of abandoning most of their bodies from the wider part of the crack, but they cannot escape the fate of becoming new components of the lake bed. The insignificant biomass supplement cannot alleviate its pain. It is still boiling and looking for an outlet.

When one becomes aware of its existence, the opposite attention is also established.

Conceptual pain flows along the established connections, projected into every consciousness that perceives it, and transmitted into the new medium.

The deeper and more complete the understanding, the more stable and broader the connection will be, and the more efficient the transmission will be.

A more advanced way of communicating information.

The ferocious look occupied every muscle on everyone's face, it was an inescapable painful cognition.

Kraft quickly contracted his mental senses and closed his eyes, as if he had touched a burning charcoal. The high temperature was instantly transmitted through the contact surface, leaving an indelible mark.

A special pain is engraved in the spiritual body.

After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, the huge wave caused by the activity finally arrived.

The boat was thrown high up, spinning and bumping as it was pushed away. This was a kind of luck, as they no longer had to bathe in the inevitable extreme negative feelings, and were also away from the space that was being cut.

The wooden barrels fixed on the boat played an important role, barely maintaining buoyancy, allowing the boat filled with water to remain afloat and carry the passengers into the unknown.

In the chaos, they only remembered to grab the nearest fixed rope, breathe, and then hold their breath, as they were pushed back into the water by wave after wave.

They couldn't open their eyes at all in the muddy and sandy water, but they could feel themselves moving away from the light and sound sources, being sent back into the darkness by the outward-spreading waves.

An unknown amount of time had passed, but when the wind and waves subsided a little, they had completely lost their direction, and even Kraft was unable to obtain any location information in the spinning world.

Those huge outlines seem to have turned to the other side. At first glance, there is some impression of the lines, but when you compare them carefully with your memory, you will realize that the positions and shapes are completely different, and you can't find a suitable reference.

Looking around, the lighthouse they had hoped for before setting out did not work. Perhaps they were swept deeper into the lake, far beyond the reach of the guide.

Everything on the boat was soaked, with the lower part below the waist in water. The supplies and equipment that were not completely fixed were left in the lake water, and most of the remaining ones had been soaked for a long time. In this case, there was no need to expect a layer of leather paper to act as a sealing bag.

The thing that made people sweat the most was the crossbow. When the impact came, the fingers that lost their conscious control pulled the trigger, and the arrow directly penetrated the two layers of the package and nailed into the bottom of the boat, half of it was immersed in it.

More than half of the fuel was lost, and one of the net bags containing the oil tanker was shaken out and hit the hull, and now the inside is broken into pieces.

The torch bundles, or what we should call piles of wet sticks, are of questionable value. There are spare oil lamps, but the problem is how to relight them.

They were lost in these dark waters, their supplies were running low, and they were suffering mentally and physically.

To make matters worse, the team's long-time "prophet" character looked worse than everyone else.

The pain did not seem to lessen for him with the passage of time and distance. On the contrary, he felt as if he was buried alive by the air. He tried to grab something from the environment to survive, but to no avail.