Warlock of Oceans: My Poseidon System-Chapter 343: The Holy City of Rebelkin (17)
His limbs, though heavy and uncooperative, continued to flail instinctively, driven by an animalistic urge to survive. But the unseen currents that wrapped around him like tendrils of shadow only increased his sense of disorientation. He could feel the water swirling around him, cold and uncaring, a force of nature that neither knew nor cared about his struggle.
Desperation clawed at him as the realization sank in that he was utterly alone in this vast, hostile environment. The isolation was profound, a deep-seated loneliness that gnawed at his spirit. He was cut off from everything familiar, adrift in an alien world where the normal rules of life no longer applied. The ocean’s depths were a realm unto themselves, governed by forces and creatures beyond his understanding.
The pressure on his chest grew more intense, the weight of the water pressing down with a relentless force that seemed determined to crush him. His lungs screamed for air, each breath a painful, futile exercise that brought him no closer to relief. The icy cold of the water seeped into his bones, numbing him both physically and mentally, dulling his senses but heightening his terror.
In the midst of this struggle, the man’s thoughts began to fracture, fragmented by fear and the sheer impossibility of his situation. He was caught in a nightmare, a living hell where every moment stretched into an eternity of dread and despair. The black water, the unseen currents, and the echoing heartbeat all combined to create a symphony of terror that threatened to overwhelm him completely.
Just as he felt he could bear no more, on the brink of snapping out of this terrifying trance, a pair of massive, glowing red eyes flickered open in the distance. They were deep in the water, far yet alarmingly present, cutting through the darkness with a sinister glow. The eyes were immense, easily the size of a man’s torso, and their crimson light pierced the abyss, casting an eerie, blood-red hue that made the surrounding water seem even darker and more foreboding. Read latest stories on novelbuddy
These eyes radiated a malevolent intelligence, an ancient, predatory awareness that seemed to fixate on him with chilling intent. The sensation of being watched, scrutinized by something far beyond his understanding, sent a shiver down his spine. The eyes did not merely observe; they seemed to penetrate his very being, stripping away any facade of bravery or control he might have mustered.
The space around the eyes was a void, making them appear as if they floated in nothingness, yet the weight of their gaze was crushing. It was as though the eyes were the only solid entities in an infinite ocean of darkness, and their malevolent glow drew the man’s focus entirely. He could feel the primal fear of prey being watched by an unseen predator, a feeling that resonated deep within his instincts.
As the eyes remained fixed on him, the man felt a pull, an almost magnetic force that seemed to draw him closer to this unfathomable presence. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a frantic, desperate cry for escape. The water around him felt thicker, and colder, as if responding to the presence of the eyes, closing in on him and amplifying his sense of suffocation and helplessness.
The glow of the eyes flickered slightly, giving the terrifying impression that whatever creature possessed them was alive, aware, and perhaps even amused by his fear. The intelligence behind the eyes was not passive; it was calculating, considering, as if deciding what to do with the hapless soul caught in its gaze. The man’s mind raced with thoughts of what monstrous being could be lurking in the depths, hidden from sight but so clearly powerful and ancient.
Every second stretched into an eternity as the man remained locked in this silent, dreadful exchange. His attempts to move or look away were futile; the eyes held him in place with a grip stronger than any physical restraint. He felt exposed, vulnerable, as if all his secrets, all his weaknesses were laid bare before this malevolent watcher.
The vision was overwhelming, a convergence of suffocating dread and the sheer terror induced by those malevolent, glowing red eyes. The combination was too much to bear, fracturing his concentration and pulling him back to the present with a desperate gasp. The noble-looking man snapped back to reality, the room around him suddenly clear and solid, the familiar surroundings of the backroom providing a stark contrast to the nightmarish abyss he had just experienced.
Cyrus was now staring at him, his expression inscrutable, a calm mask that gave away nothing of his thoughts or feelings. The intensity of Cyrus’s gaze added another layer of discomfort, making the man acutely aware of how much he had revealed through his reaction. His heart raced in his chest, each beat loud and rapid as if it were trying to remind him that he was still alive, still breathing the air he had so desperately missed in the vision.
Cold sweat dripped down his brow, the tiny droplets of moisture tracing paths along his temple and neck before being absorbed by the pristine fabric of his suit. He could feel the sweat soaking into his clothes, the cool dampness a reminder of the intense fear he had just endured. His hands, slightly trembling, gripped the arms of the chair, the polished wood grounding him as he struggled to regain his composure.
The haunting image of those red eyes refused to leave his mind, lingering like a dark shadow at the edge of his consciousness. Every time he blinked, he could see them anew, glowing and watching with that same predatory intelligence. The memory of the oppressive depths, the feeling of being utterly alone and exposed, clawed at his sanity, making it difficult to focus on the here and now.
As he fought to steady his breathing and calm his racing heart, the man realized just how profoundly the vision had shaken him. It was not merely the fear of the unknown or the terror of drowning; it was the sense of being scrutinized by a presence so ancient and powerful that it defied comprehension. The experience had left him feeling vulnerable, stripped of his usual confidence and composure.
In an attempt to gather himself, the man wiped his brow with a trembling hand, the simple act helping to anchor him back in reality. He forced himself to meet Cyrus’s gaze, determined to hide the depth of his unease. But he knew that the image of those eyes, and the suffocating blackness of the abyss, would haunt him long after this moment had passed. The encounter had left a mark on his soul, a chilling reminder of the unfathomable depths and the terrifying secrets they held.
"You… are definitely not one of us."
Cyrus’ eyes narrowed before cracking his lips open. "You all are humans?"
"Do we not look ones?"
"I mean…" Cyrus shifted his eyes up and down the man. "... You look like them but you live down here."
"Live down here?"
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"Yeah, in this dun-"
Just as Cyrus attempted to say the word "dungeon," a sudden and intense pain struck him, as if an invisible hand had wrapped around his heart and begun to squeeze with cruel force. His breath hitched, and his eyes widened in shock. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a brutal and immediate assault on his body that left him momentarily paralyzed.
It felt as though nail-like appendages were stabbing into his chest, each one a sharp, piercing agony that radiated outwards, sending waves of pain through his entire torso. The pressure around his heart grew tighter, a vice-like grip that made it difficult to breathe. His heart pounded wildly, each beat a struggle against the unseen force that sought to crush it.
Cyrus clutched at his chest, his fingers digging into his clothes as if trying to physically pull away the source of his torment. His vision blurred at the edges, dark spots dancing before his eyes as the pain threatened to overwhelm him. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead, the droplets trickling down his face in stark contrast to the burning pain within.
"Hey, you okay?"
"Give me a second," Cyrus choked out.
His voice, which had been poised to articulate the word "dungeon," faltered into a strangled gasp. He could taste the metallic tang of fear and desperation on his tongue, the word he had intended to say now trapped in his throat, unable to escape. Every attempt to speak only intensified the sensation, as if the act of uttering the word was somehow amplifying the torment he felt.
Cyrus’s mind raced, trying to understand the source of this sudden, inexplicable pain. It was as if some dark force was punishing him for daring to speak, a malevolent presence that had lain in wait for just this moment. The room around him seemed to dim, the faces of his men and the noble-looking man blurring into indistinct shapes as his consciousness narrowed to the pinpoint of agony in his chest.
