noffsinger Chapter 4821
Chapter 4821
Rather, it would be more accurate to say that the moment that will descended, many ancient beings, beings that had waited for billions of years, began to descend!
In the Arctic night, the sound of the wind is like shards of glass scraping against countless eardrums at the same time.
The icy sea first rippled, and then it was as if an invisible giant hand was pulling the cold out of the seabed.
Layers of frost climbed, multiplied, and spread, spreading as fast as an out-of-control avalanche.
The white waves were frozen in place, their crests solidified into sculptures in mid-air; the sea mist was frozen into a silver veil, drifting and swaying in the air.
On the newly formed ice plain, naturally grown ice ridges rise up, their sharp edges reflecting light like knives.
Footsteps echoed in the air ducts between those backs—like the soft, crisp sound of snowflakes crushing against each other.
From the Arctic icy seas, Ice Age races emerged.
Their long, silvery-white hair reached their ankles, their pupils were so light they were almost transparent, and their skin had a phosphorescent sheen like snow.
Beneath their robes, their bare forearms, clearly in human skeletal proportions, were inlaid with ice-like veins, and the opening and closing of their knuckles was accompanied by tiny, crackling sounds of crystallization.
They remained silent, yet an unusual tremor emanated from the air.
That is “ice language”—if we consider the air as strings, then these creatures are plucking the coldest spectrum.
At a research station left behind by humans in the Arctic, thick iron gates were instantly covered with frost buds as thick as a finger joint.
In the distance, the yellow lights of the small houses in the Inuit fishing village seemed to have been touched by a cold mist, their brightness dimmed.
But there was no slaughter, no pursuit, only a series of figures appearing, one huge ice ship after another emerging from beneath the icy sea, marching in formation on the brand-new icy continent, as if relocating a kingdom whose time had been frozen.
Deep in the Atlantic Ocean, the Abyss Clan rose from the darkness.
First came a tremendous, earthquake-like sound—not thunder, not the song of whales, but the roar of the sea caused by the appearance of enormous ancient sea beasts!
Fishermen along the European coast were dozing off when they suddenly sat up in the night, sensing something unusual about the ocean.
The water in the harbor rippled on its own even without wind, and the dock piles groaned as if being kneaded.
The sound waves did not come from the surface of the sea, but rather seemed to be pushed upwards layer by layer from a deep, hollow cylinder in the sea.
Then came a huge black shadow.
In the cold seep zone of the deep sea, it seems as if thousands of faint blue lights are lit up at the same time. The light clusters are unstable, like gel trembling under water pressure.
They clung to the surfaces of certain enormous outlines—not fish, not whales, but more like a semi-gelatinous aggregate of organisms.
The boundaries are blurred, and tiny tendrils inside are constantly gathering and dispersing, as if wisdom is being "negotiated" between molecules.
Outside the harbor, the navigation lights of merchant ships suddenly went out, and then their outlines were filled in by some kind of eerie light that did not belong to the circuit.
The people on deck opened their mouths wide, but no sound came out. The entire sea as far as the eye could see, from the distant horizon all the way to below the ship, was filled with those strange, translucent, gelatinous creatures, making it difficult for the ship to move.
They saw the sea surface split open like a curtain with a seam, and a colossal beast, entirely black with a smooth, unpatterned skin, rose from the seam—not vertically, but "pushed out of the water as a whole."
It has no eyes, yet it stares at people. It has no mouth, yet it swallows all the sounds nearby in an instant.
Subsequently, the tide level at the port rose and then plummeted overnight.
The dead fish were not stranded, but were dragged back to the depths by an invisible "reverse force".
Several small boats were pulled along by the viscous water, like puppets at the end of strings.
The Abyss Clan does not land; they merely patrol along the ridgeline, sending out strands of gelatinous messengers to touch the sonar, caress the propellers, and leave tiny "water" characters under the steel plates.
It seems to be telling the sixth generation of humans, the Abyss Clan, that they have arrived.