The moment he realized the light in front of him, Green understood why he was getting vague descriptions.

It cannot be described exactly, but at the moment of sight, it evokes countless similar and completely different scenes in my memory. It was as if in a dream as we walked through the long cloister of the church, where the statues of all the saints hung down, and the gray-white light shining through the exit at the end was diluted and diluted to every plane.

The light, which is so faint that it is impossible to distinguish anything, becomes one with the mist. The sound of the falling waterfall, which was closer than ever, pushed the light mist from the hall to the corridor.

The light source did not flicker, which may be why it was considered more like a celestial body, but under the stratum that had not received even a trace of light from the sky since its birth, where could a celestial body shine here?

As it approached, the light did not fade as it had last, but maintained a disturbing stability, like an invitation to wait for the discoverer's arrival, or a pure disregard.

[At this time? 】

Green was torn between chasing the light or finding the two teams who couldn't return in time, but he didn't get an answer.

Forward, or propelled by the rushing currents of the water, the monks drew their weapons before they could break out of the exit, ready to deal with threats that could exist in any direction.

The sound of the unsheathed metal didn't reach far, and in the vast vapour, the sounds of each person were confined to their surroundings, or dispersed by the loud sound of the falling, indulging everyone in an atmosphere of indifference like that light.

They soon realized that there was no need to think about how to catch the light source.

That light, and the source of the mist, was right in front of you, and it was placed in the most conspicuous place for a week.

At the end of the staircase that recessed into the center of the hall, a hexagonal shape that glowed dimly appeared.

The wellhead, the mouth of the hexagonal well, was spewing out a huge amount of mist stirred up by the waterfall; The bleak light crept out of it, and the mist of water stained every adherent surface, staining the hall with unreal colors, or no color.

Despite what he had seen, instinct tried to convince logic that it was a celestial light.

It creates a sense of dislocation that causes the vestibular balancer to be upside down, as if a dead moon is passing over the well, and the mist that shimmers through the dim light is the painful oozing from its gyaltium.

They breathe in water-laden gases, feel choked on their vocal organs, and are unable to speak.

The first thing that arises is the emotion that is most likely to arise when facing something that subverts cognition, a kind of silent panic that nails the footsteps in place, in the cold turbidity current.

By the time their consciousness reacted, the most reasonable option was to retreat, and they had already stood in the frosted glass mist for a moment.

No one knows how long it was, maybe it was just a moment of stunnedness, or maybe a whole hour had passed.

But when they came back to their senses, the first thing they felt was the wet cold coming from the placket of their clothes, the cold burrowing through the poorly fitting slit in the boot barrel and licking their ankles.

It seems that the light naturally has the power to fascinate people, forget time, and exceed the limits of the word charm.

Probably because of the discipline carved into the conditioning, and the piety that underpinned the precarious spirit, the monks did not continue to act, but did not retreat, but looked at the leader at the front of the line.

What should I do? 】

There was no need to look back to meet those eyes, Green knew what they were asking, but he didn't have an answer.

The current situation is beyond any premeditation, and Kraft's advice is equally useless here. They may dare to swing their swords at the firstborn horned devil in despair, but they may not be able to overcome the bleak and faded unknown.

After all, no one knows what it is, it is something that cannot be described in words, and certainly cannot be contained in the holy scriptures.

A voice in his ear told him that he should go back at this time, and the tunnel entrance was behind him.

Take a few steps back, run back, and they'll be out of the way, fleeing like rats back into the comforting darkness.

He thought it was an auditory hallucination, and then he thought it was the advice of a monk behind him, and was about to open his mouth to rebuke it, only to find that it was his own voice, which came from the echo of the subconscious.

As long as you go back, you can continue to enjoy the transcendent status of the youngest priest in the Inquisition.

The climb from a cobbler's son to this point is too difficult for a life with a bright future to be wasted here.

Not for personal gain, it is also the best choice to bring the person back with an immediate stop loss, and others can also testify for him.

"Ha" Green blew out a breath, the mist in front of his face receded slightly, and then rushed towards his mouth and nose, "Let's all go back." ”

The monks were relieved and pulled their boots out of the water.

They took a few steps back towards the exit of the waterway, then stopped again and looked at the priest, who was still standing still.

"Then Vardin will take over my business, and tell someone to go back and inform the Inquisition, and what kind of professor is there." Drawing a torch and lighting it on the flame of the lamp that would be extinguished by the mist, Green wiped the condensation from his face, "I'm going to find those two teams." ”

"I hope Heavenly Father hasn't called me to debrief me that soon."

Along the edge of the hall, he headed in the direction of exploration, into the depths of the mist.

The two monks did not leave with the group, and after a moment of dilemma, gritted their teeth and chased after Green, following without saying a word.

As the number of people decreased, the atmosphere of indifference and isolation intensified. Obviously, there are only two positions in succession, and if you don't keep an eye on the position of others at any time, you will be born at any time to be trapped alone in a corner of the bleak realm.

For the two monks who followed on the spur of the moment, it was a breeding ground for fear and vacillation.

But for someone with sharp instincts enough to support wielding a sword when he can't see, the visual obscurity does not dull him.

Even without sight, he could perceive a lot. The loud sound of the water that filled the space was indeed much closer than when it first arrived.

This says a lot, such as that beneath the hexagonal well is not an endless void, but a large, finite body of water. One can imagine it gradually being filled, the level rising and approaching the wellhead.

And the sound was still changing, and the majestic sound of a huge body of water falling towards the level of the water and rushing into the depths became shallow, like a reef appearing under the surface of the water, shattering the undercurrent.

The "reef" was still rising until it surfaced, as if the deep lake had suddenly dried up, and the waterfall hammered against the hard and uneven lakebed, shattering and splashing, creating more mist, rising in a gradually increasing eruptive current, pouring into the hall.

When the turbulent high-speed air flow reached its peak, everyone heard a low, murky whale chirp, full of long, tearful and grief-stricken sounds.

The monk who followed Grimm saw that the former had been inspired by something, and threw his torch at them, pushing them both away.

Several sharp-edged new ravines radiate from the hexagonal well and carve into the stone steps, and the rock within the wedge-shaped section disappears as if it had fallen into another world.

Damn!