Krafft's Notes on Anomalies

[Ventilation]

A lake bed that can ventilate, it couldn't sound more strange.

Apart from this word, it is difficult to find a second description that can describe the appearance of the entire base supporting the lake water when it is lifted.

The weak body breathes short and deep, like a live fish thrown on the shore, trying to filter more oxygen by swinging the gas exchange organs at high frequency, and finally found that it is useless.

The components in the air that can sustain life are decreasing, diluted by the gas that floats to the surface wrapped in a large number of bubbles.

It seems light, but it is as irritating as anything, burning fiercely on the oral and nasal mucosa and brain membranes. It is the kind of terrible flavor that seals the scream in the blocked bronchus and ferments overmature - corruption, suffocation, extreme.

The light smears the bloodless face with the comical paleness of a court clown, but the lips are deep purple.

The mist is glowing, allowing the light to bypass obstacles and spread without angle restrictions, over the side of the ship, into the belly of the ship, and crawl into the shrinking and trembling pupils.

Arriving with the smell and light are 110,000 voices, roaring or whispering, expressing the same meaning in different voices and different words, looking for thoughts that can understand them.

The water surface swells and falls like an abscess, breaking into turbid waves higher than the head, sweeping across.

Behind the gray-yellow water curtain is a prismatic high wall that rises up step by step, and the gaps are filled with hissing biomass. Those things that once lived in the lake island buildings are now shaped into the most efficient form, lifting these giant pillars made of celestial remains from the bottom of the lake with a force that exceeds the limit of the material.

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

Fresh air was sucked into the cavity that was longer and more complex than the organ, emitting a long sound like the cry of a whale.

The sound wave came later but arrived first, passing through the body unimpeded, pulling the organs to vibrate with its frequency, almost breaking away from the control of the capsule and joining in.

People with more acute perception may detect a trace of hidden melancholy, similar to looking back at the hometown that is gradually getting farther away after a long journey, and the rejection of the unfamiliar environment surged in their hearts, but was immediately overwhelmed by intense physical discomfort.

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

The extremely huge volume and the bleak color close to the deep layer made it easy to be discovered.

But unlike the embryonic state of the fungus spirit and the sample spirit body, the state of "it", or "they", is extremely mature, no different from the human being being pulled into the deep, but the form is chaotic, like clay sculptures that are kneaded together and cannot be completely fused, piled up into a clay hill with a grotesque shape.

Purely suppressed pain flows in it, mobilizing the huge volume and mass, activating the instincts carried in the columns built by the celestial debris, and moving closer to its source.

The world perceived by the spiritual senses is as dark as the rapidly aging wall, and the "color" is lost, moving closer to an environment that is almost the same but monotonous and scarce in the background color. The two layers of different colors are pinched together and mixed with each other unevenly.

But it is not enough. The volume is an advantage and a burden. With these, it can never break through the final threshold and completely break down the barriers between the levels.

So it is still trapped here, continuing the endless painful struggle and attempt. The instinctive desire and pain to return to the deep have been entangled into a nearly substantial concept, boiling in this extremely huge spiritual body and conveyed to the lunar debris as the main structure.

In the end, the authority to shuttle between different depths is expressed in a distorted and sharp form.

The thin and long cracks visible to the naked eye radiate out, like transparent long whiskers whipping the space, and turbulent water bursts out from it, mixed with cut fluorescent tissues.

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 divided and dissociated. A very few enter the world with the water flow from the wider part of the crack at the cost of abandoning most of their bodies, but they can't escape the fate of becoming a new component of the lake bed.

The insignificant biomass supplement cannot alleviate its pain. It is still boiling and looking for an outlet.

When it is realized that it exists, the reverse attention is also established at the same time.

Conceptual pain flows along the established connection, projected into each consciousness that has cognition of it, and transmitted into a new medium.

The deeper and more complete the understanding, the more stable and broad the connection, and the more efficient the transmission.

A more advanced way of information exchange.

The ferocious look occupies every facial muscle of everyone, that is the painful cognition that cannot be escaped.

Kraft quickly retracted his spiritual senses and closed his eyes, as if he had touched a burning coal. The high temperature was instantly introduced from the contact surface, leaving an indelible mark.

A special pain was engraved in the spiritual body.

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

The boat was thrown high up, spinning and bumping and pushed away. This was a kind of luck. They no longer had to bathe in the inevitable extreme negative feelings, and were also far 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 be maintained, and carrying passengers into the unknown.

In the chaos, they only remembered to grab the nearest fixed rope around them, breathe, and then hold their breath, and were pushed back into the water by waves one after another.

It was impossible to open your eyes in the muddy water, but you could feel that they were moving away from the light source and the sound source, and being sent back into the darkness by the outward-spreading waves.

After an unknown amount of time, when the wind and waves subsided a little, they could no longer identify the direction, and even Kraft could not get any position information in the dizzy world.

Those huge outlines seemed to have turned to the other side. At first glance, the lines were somewhat impressive, but when you compare them carefully with your memory, you will realize that the position and shape are completely different, and there is no suitable reference.

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

Everything on the boat was soaked, and the part below the waist was soaked in water. The supplies and equipment that were not completely fixed were left to the lake, and most of the remaining ones were soaked for a long time. In this case, you can't expect a layer of parchment to act as a sealed bag.

The most sweaty thing was the crossbow. When the impact came, the finger that lost control of consciousness pulled the trigger, and the arrow directly penetrated the two layers of packages stacked on top of each other, nailed into the bottom of the boat, and half of it was sunk into it.

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

The torch bundle, or now it should be called a pile of wet sticks, is of questionable value. There are spare oil lamps, but the problem is how to re-ignite them.

They were lost in this dark water, supplies were running out, and their spirits and bodies were tortured.

It was worse than that. The "prophet" role in the team seemed to be in worse condition than everyone else.

The pain did not seem to diminish on him with the extension of time and distance. On the contrary, his condition was like being buried alive by the air, trying to grab something from the environment to survive, but nothing.