V3: Chapter 32: Nameless Fear
In a state of chaos and darkness, terrifying scenes, like endless nightmares, tightly gripped the minds of every magician. It was a world woven from twisted shadows, piercing screams, and unspeakable terror, as if the gates of hell had been suddenly flung open, swallowing all beauty and light.
However, just as this despair and fear reached their peak, an indescribable force quietly surged. Like the first rays of dawn, it gently yet resolutely pierced through the thick layer of darkness, peeling away the terrifying scenes bit by bit until they vanished completely.
As the last vestige of shadow dissipated, the surrounding world began to subtly change.
The ground no longer stretched in a straight line, but curved and folded, as if gently kneaded by an invisible giant hand. Strange ripples appeared on the surfaces of buildings, sometimes clear, sometimes blurred, as if they lay on the edge between two worlds, belonging to reality yet touching the threshold of illusion.
The sky, no longer a uniform azure, was ever-changing, sometimes a rainbow spanning the horizon, sometimes stars twinkling in the daylight, like a series of flowing paintings, blurring the line between dream and reality. Sunlight, filtering through this distorted veil, cast a soft, hazy glow, draping everything in a dreamlike golden veil.
Octaville also felt the blur before her.
No…
She clearly felt something was wrong, but why couldn't she tear her gaze away, her steps becoming unusually heavy?
No…
She had to look away.
Octaville was still the powerful Octaville. In the few seconds she was trapped in the illusion, she reacted swiftly, regaining control of her body almost instantly.
The real world before her became clear.
An indescribable chill filled the air. The box seemed to be gently pushed open by an invisible hand, releasing an extremely cold aura that instantly filled the entire room. Countless tiny, agile tentacles swarmed out of the box, like living creatures, carrying an unnatural and malevolent life force, and began to spread rampantly throughout the room.
Some of these tentacles quickly wrapped around the furniture, lifting heavy tables and chairs into the air, or tightly binding them, causing them to creak and groan. The entire room trembled under their control. Other tentacles silently approached the magicians trapped in the illusion, deftly wrapping around their necks or tightly binding their limbs. The cold, slippery touch instilled fear, yet they were powerless to escape.
A young magician in a long dress, who had been sitting quietly in a corner of the room, was now tightly bound by several tentacles. Her face was contorted with extreme terror, her eyes tightly closed, as if she were experiencing a nightmare from which she could not awaken. Her breathing became rapid and shallow, as if this evil and unknown force could take her life at any moment.
Octaville's body stiffened for a moment.
Gurgle~
Gurgle gurgle~
What was that sound?
Octaville felt a strange sound above her head, followed by an unbearable stench.
She slowly raised her head.
It was a tentacle, enormous, shaped like a head.
This tentacle head was so large that it almost occupied the upper half of the room. Its surface was covered with a wet, sticky, transparent substance, like some creature pulled from the deep sea, or some indescribable evil.
The tentacle head was twisted and complex in shape, writhing intermittently. Each tentacle seemed to possess an independent life, intertwining with each other or exploring its surroundings, as if searching for something.
Most disgustingly, the tentacles were covered with countless suckers, each one slightly opening and slowly closing, emitting a "gurgling" sound. The sound, like some ancient incantation or a whisper from the abyss, sent chills down one's spine, as if the very soul was being corrupted by this evil power.
The presence of these tentacles filled the room with an indescribable stench, a nauseating smell a mixture of decay, dampness, and the odor of unknown creatures. It was like an invisible hand gripping one's throat, making it almost impossible to breathe.
"Tsk."
Octaville's eyes sharpened.
Fortunately, she hadn't brought Hilary along; otherwise, her wife would have been in danger.
The atmosphere was extremely tense.
Octaville straightened her body, her eyes flashing with unwavering determination. She slowly raised her hands, and from her fingertips, a dazzling magical light began to gather. The light was as brilliant as stars and as intense as the sun, illuminating the entire room almost instantly.
With a low chant from Octaville, the magical light gradually coalesced into an incomparably sharp lightsaber, radiating a blinding glow. She gripped the lightsaber tightly, her body trembling, as if she had become one with the sword, an unstoppable force.
Just then, the enormous tentacle writhed again. Sensing a threat, it began frantically waving its tentacles, attempting to block Octaville's attack.
However, Octaville was fearless. She swung her lightsaber fiercely, and a dazzling sword beam instantly pierced the sky, striking directly at the core of the tentacle.
With a deafening roar, the tentacle head was cleaved in two by the lightsaber, its viscous liquid splattering out, only to evaporate instantly upon contact with the lightsaber. The tentacle head remnant struggled weakly in the air a few times before vanishing, as if it had never existed.
The instant the tentacle head was severed, the entire room was gripped by an invisible rage. The remaining tentacles suddenly became agitated, lashing out like mad snakes, attempting to attack Octaville and the innocent magicians around her.
These tentacles were numerous, surging in from all directions. Some tried to coil around Octaville's body, while others lunged directly at those around her. Tension and fear filled the air. Few magicians emerged from the illusion, and several were pierced through the skin.
Oh no!
Octaville didn't want to see her subordinates injured.
She swiftly swung her lightsaber, each strike accompanied by a dazzling flash of light, severing the tentacles one by one. Octaville's movements were rapid and precise; every strike was meticulously calculated, giving the tentacles no chance to retaliate.
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