V3: Chapter 69: Bizarre
“Dead.”
“They’re all dead.”
“Ah…”
Laura’s eyes rolled back, and she fainted, collapsing heavily to the ground. Hilary and Octaville, lost in grief and shock, didn’t notice Laura, letting her lie unconscious on the blood-stained ground, a large bump on her head.
“Why did it turn out like this?”
“Why?”
Octaville crouched down in anguish.
While being killed by tentacles was common for mages—at least one magician died every month on average—this was unprecedented in its sheer scale.
Inside the seaside magic tower, there were a total of 100 magicians, all lying on the ground before Octaville and Hilary. Some had terrified eyes, their deaths unfinished; others had their mouths open, as if pleading for help.
Each death was gruesome. Some had tentacles piercing their chests, others were strangled to death, and still others lay peacefully on the ground with smiles on their faces. The last one probably died the most comfortably.
Octaville crouched down gently and touched the blood on the ground.
The blood clung to her fingertips, sticky.
Octaville brought her fingertips to her nose and sniffed hard.
"The blood is still fresh; they probably just died recently."
After saying this, Octaville was overwhelmed with deep self-reproach and regret.
"If I had come a little earlier, even just three hours earlier, I might have been caught in that massacre, and I might have saved these companions."
She crouched on the ground, clutching her head in anguish.
The next second, Octaville suddenly opened her eyes, bypassed the unconscious Laura lying on the ground, and ran quickly downstairs without stopping or looking back. Hilary, unaware of what was happening and fearing for Octaville's safety, ran downstairs after her, reaching the door in less than half a minute.
Bang!
Octaville flung open the door.
A gust of sea wind, carrying a fishy smell, rushed in, making her head throb.
Octaville stared blankly outside.
Outside, there were wisps of fog, visible even though it was dark. It was incredibly eerie, more so than any other beach she'd ever been to.
"Fu!"
Hilary finally caught up, panting, and placed her hand on Octaville's shoulder.
"Fu! What happened? What did you see?"
Octaville gently pushed Hilary's hand away.
"Darling, stay here. Don't come with me."
Hilary was startled.
“Fu, what nonsense are you talking about? What are you going to do? No, don't go out! This fog looks incredibly eerie! If you go out now, you might encounter some terrible danger! It's safer for us to stay together…”
Octaville pursed her lips, remaining silent, but her finger pointed towards the sea not far away.
Hilary stared blankly, seeing nothing special. Everything around her was still pitch black; she couldn't even make out the sea and waves.
“Fu, what are you showing me? There's nothing here.”
Hilary was confused, then became somewhat frightened.
“Fu, you're hallucinating again.”
Octaville felt she might really be hallucinating, because she sensed the surrounding fog gradually dissipating, merging into the night, like melted cotton candy.
“Darling, can’t you see? The fog around us is gradually dissipating, and I think I can see the sea clearly now.”
Octaville’s eyes were slightly unfocused as she said this, and something seemed off about her.
Upon hearing this, Hilary felt a chill run down her spine. She dared not look in the direction Octaville was pointing; she was afraid she too would fall into a hallucination. She wasn’t afraid of seeing terrifying hallucinations, but she was more afraid of seeing happy ones, because that would make her sink deeper, unable to extricate herself, forgetting that it was just an illusion.
“Fu, don’t look over there. Look at me.”
Hilary cupped her lover’s face, trying forcefully to turn her towards her, forcing her to look at her.
But even with a little force, she couldn’t move Octaville’s face.
Octaville kept her eyes fixed on the sea in the distance.
In Octaville’s eyes, the sea was still clear, not obscured by the fog at all.
The seawater felt exceptionally cold at this moment, as if it were gushing from the depths of hell.
"Darling, I think I can feel the waves hitting my face..."
The spray splashed onto Octaville's face, instantly sending a chill down her spine.
Giant sea creatures churned in the water, creating waves that flickered and disappeared in the murky water. Their low growls echoed across the silent beach, sending shivers down her spine.
"Darling, listen, they're calling."
Octaville murmured.
Hilary's scalp tingled.
Although she possessed some magic and was skilled in swordsmanship—a monster that so many magicians had failed to defeat—how could she possibly defeat it alone? She'd probably just be used as nourishment.
And now, if Octaville was also bewitched by the monster, she would be left to fight alone.
Hilary wasn't afraid of fighting alone; what she feared was failing to protect her lover, and also failing to protect the key that could seal the sea monster, still unconscious upstairs. In that case, even in death, she wouldn't be able to close her eyes in peace.
"Darling, let go of my hand."
Octaville spoke again.
"No!"
Hilary gripped Octaville's hand tightly.
This time, Octaville actually shook her off forcefully.
Keep in check, Octaville had never treated her lover so roughly before; this was the first time. Hilary was certain that Octaville was bewitched, trapped in an illusion.
In her eyes, the sea was still changing.
On the shore, a few withered trees swayed in the wind, their branches and leaves long since ravaged by the sea breeze, leaving only bare trunks that outlined distorted silhouettes against the night sky.
“Look at those trees…”
Wait a minute.
Octaville paused slightly.
Where did the trees come from on the beach?
When did trees appear on the beach?
How come I couldn't remember anything about them?
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