The Secret Cult Chronicles of the Decaying Lake Manor

Chapter 112 In the Mist (8) The mist dissipates with the sound of horns.

The viscount's figure streaked across the treetops like a shooting star, his dark cloak trailing charred marks behind him.

Wherever it passed, tree bark instantly turned black and carbonized, and the ice and snow on the ground melted rapidly, disappearing into the soil.

The mutated creatures lurking in the shadows didn't even have time to scream before they spontaneously combusted in the blue and white flames, turning into wisps of black smoke and dissipating.

Within minutes, he arrived at the family chapel on the west side of the island.

The scene before him moved even someone as composed as him.

This circular stone building, which has withstood a century of wind and rain, is now in ruins and a scene of utter devastation.

A huge hailstone, or rather a translucent block of ice from a meteorite, crashed in from the northwest, causing the entire dome to collapse, and most of the wall on the west side to crumble as well.

Most of the benches were buried in rubble and debris, and the delicate brass pipes of the organ were twisted and deformed, exposed in the twilight like the skeleton of a giant beast.

The viscount stepped forward slowly, his boots treading over the broken stained glass, and stopped in front of the huge block of ice.

He raised his hand, his lips tightened, and his fingers sank directly into his skull.

A gleaming, azure cube was forcibly "pulled" out from the side of the face.

With the appearance of this cube, the Viscount's body suddenly dimmed.

He seemed to melt into the surrounding mist, his colors mingling and shifting, coalescing into a single, unified whole.

In other words, it turns black.

If George were here, he would be surprised to find that the Viscount's form was beginning to resemble the shadowy figure that resembled his mother.

But the viscount didn't care about the strangeness on his body. He panted and reached out to throw the cube toward the unusual "hail" in the center of the ruins.

The world seemed to have shifted subtly at that moment.

The translucent ice object, about the size of a carriage, became ethereal and transparent the moment it touched the Azure Cube.

The frost and halo on the surface peeled away layer by layer, revealing the interior like an onion—something that cannot be described in human language.

The viscount narrowed his eyes slightly.

What he saw was not an object, but a concept, a structure, a wild, rational reverie, empty yet all-encompassing...

The internal structure of that "hailstone" continued to rotate, unfold, and close under the influence of the azure cube, like a tireless kaleidoscope, showcasing a geometric and mathematical beauty that transcends human comprehension.

It has countless rectangular surfaces, spheres, prisms, and shiny metal, accompanied by long, plastic-like rods.

Colors that defy description adhere to it, sometimes flowing and sometimes solidifying.

Color, shape, movement, sound, and smell merge into one; the boundary between acute and obtuse angles begins to blur, because they are collectively moving into a higher dimension.

Faced with illusions capable of driving ordinary people mad, the Viscount stood arrogantly, motionless.

He observed with intense focus those scenes that existed between vast chaos and immense order.

Silence spread through the ruins.

The collapsed dome of the church left a gap, and the remaining walls, in the cold, testified to the traces of violence.

After an unknown amount of time, the Viscount let out a long sigh. The azure cube slowly flew back and crashed back into his skull.

He knew that the person he was waiting for had evaded his detection.

The viscount seemed unable to hold on any longer and sat down on the steps of the remaining chapel, his whole demeanor showing a dejected air.

"The fanaticism for power and authority is the demon of the mortal," he remarked with a profound weariness.

"Even if we have everything, we will still not be happy: because the devil is waiting, waiting, and will be satisfied."

He looked up, his gaze unfocused as he stared at the blurry line of trees in the distance.

Unchanging in the windless fog, and as silent as a snowfield.

The viscount suddenly gave a bitter laugh, a laugh that accentuated his pale face.

"Let them take away our bodies, our property, our honor, our children, our wives—"

His speech became faster, and "neurotic" is a good way to describe his state.

"Let it all pass, the kingdom (Reich) must still belong to us!"

The last word burst forth with a strange passion.

"Yes! Yes! The Kingdom!"

Before he finished speaking, his body had already been lifted into the air.

The cloak fluttered behind him like a pair of enormous wings.

He ascended to a high altitude above the ruins of the chapel, looking down at the mist that shrouded the entire Rotten Lake and Paradise Island.

With his back to the moon, he reached out with his right hand into the air—and a horn appeared in his palm.

The horn was made of a material that resembled bone but was not bone, and its surface was covered with inexplicable patterns, but otherwise it seemed to be normal.

The viscount brought it to his lips.

When the first long and deep horn rang out over Paradise Island, it was as if an invisible hand had suddenly torn open the curtain that covered the island.

The thick fog began to tremble, swirl, and then disintegrate.

The fog billowed and dissipated outwards from the Viscount, like the receding tide revealing the real world that had been covered for so long.

The viscount hovered in mid-air, coldly looking down at everything.

With the azure cube's enhancement, his vision was now frighteningly sharp.

Charred tree trunks, frozen lake shores, the still-burning remains of a monster, and bloodstains winding through the snow —

And, in every corner of the island, there are mutated creatures that were born with the fog but are now rapidly decaying due to the death of their "hosts".

They begin to convulse violently the moment they are exposed to real air.

The transparent carapace was tinged with cloudy white spots, and the twisted limbs were curled up in spasms, emitting a faint and unsettling cracking sound.

Then, they drowned silently, rotted and dissolved, blending into the snow, leaving only a viscous outline in place.

After glancing around briefly, the Viscount soared through the sky and flew toward the Night's Watch houses.

A moment later, he saw his eldest son and his servants looking around in surprise in the open space.

Then, the Viscount landed in front of everyone.

"Father?"

Unlike the overjoyed old man, George instinctively grabbed the rope harness on his shoulder when he saw the Viscount descending from the sky.

The Viscount's gaze swept over the crowd, finally settling on George.

"The missing person is on the lake," he said indifferently.

George was taken aback: "On the lake? You mean—"

3

"Go." After saying these three words, the Viscount flew away like a hawk.

Old Han was the first to react.

He quickly grabbed his musket, turned to the watchmen inside, and ordered, "Inspect the lakeshore! Quickly!"

By the time everyone reached the lake shore, the fog had completely dissipated.

Although it was night, the moon was very bright, and everyone could see the lake clearly.

After the hailstorm, the ice on the lake was shattered beyond recognition, mixed with the dark lake water, and gleamed coldly in the moonlight.

On that broken ice surface, the scene was shocking.

Skeletons.

A large number of skeletons.

There are remains of livestock such as cattle and sheep—some of which are clearly unnaturally twisted—as well as human skeletons.

Some still had bits of flesh attached, while others had turned white, like the eternal inhabitants of this body of water, silently telling a story beneath the ice.

"Over there!" Kelly suddenly pointed towards the center of the lake.

On a relatively intact ice surface, two figures lay there, motionless.

The old man's servant quickly rowed over a small boat that was moored nearby.

George also boarded the ship and recognized the two figures as they approached.

It was Tom, the missing man, and another young servant.

Both of them were unconscious, with signs of frostbite on their bodies, but no obvious external injuries.

"It's mild hypothermia," George determined after examining the patient. "She needs to be sent back to the manor immediately."