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Chapter 275: Ancient Murals

With their apologies offered and Lyerin's patience worn thin, the soldiers fell silent, unwilling to test the Chieftain's ire any further.

The group regrouped, casting anxious glances at one another before turning their attention to the deeper passage of the underwater cave.

The flickering light from luminescent corals barely illuminated the path ahead, casting wavering, ghostly shadows that danced along the damp rock walls.

The silence was broken only by the steady drip-drip of water echoing around them, and the faint murmur of the ocean's currents outside.

Lyerin stepped forward, his movements confident and unhurried, as if the eerie atmosphere was nothing more than a mild curiosity. "Follow closely," he commanded, his voice cutting through the tension. "This part of the cave has… peculiarities."

The soldiers exchanged wary glances but obeyed, their footsteps echoing in the narrow corridor.

As they moved deeper, the air grew colder. A shiver passed through the group, and more than one soldier pulled their cloak tighter around their shoulders.

The walls of the cave seemed to close in, narrowing the passage until they were forced to walk in single file.

Moisture dripped from the jagged ceiling, and every drop that struck their shoulders felt colder than ice.

The further they went, the more the cave transformed.

The smooth rock gave way to twisted formations, their shapes grotesque and jagged, resembling the frozen limbs of some long-forgotten creature.

The walls were lined with thick, dark seaweed that moved as if alive, swaying and reaching for them as they passed.

A soldier at the back yelped as a tendril brushed against his arm, recoiling as if burned.

"Calm yourself," Lyerin's voice came from up ahead, his tone devoid of concern. "It is merely the cave's… atmosphere."

The soldier swallowed hard, nodding despite his fear. But the deeper they went, the more oppressive the atmosphere became.

The walls seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting ever so slightly.

The air carried a faint, metallic tang, and with each step, the soldiers felt their pulse quicken.

It was as if the cave itself was watching them.

"Is it just me," muttered a woman near the middle of the line, "or does it feel like this place is alive?"

"Alive?" scoffed another, his voice strained despite his attempt at bravado. "It's just a cave."

But even he couldn't hide the nervous glance he shot at the writhing seaweed and the strange etchings on the walls—symbols that glowed faintly, like the embers of a dying fire. Discover hidden content at m,v l'e-NovelBin.net

Each symbol seemed to pulse in time with their heartbeats, a rhythm that grew louder the further they went.

The ground beneath their feet began to change.

What had once been solid rock now felt spongy, yielding slightly with every step.

A soldier in the front paused, glancing down. "What… what is this?" he whispered, nudging the ground with the toe of his boot.

It oozed slightly, releasing a puff of greenish mist that smelled of salt and decay.

"Keep moving," Lyerin ordered, his voice harsh and unyielding. "We are close."

The soldiers obeyed, but their fear was palpable. Every step felt heavier, every breath harder to draw.

The oppressive atmosphere pressed down on them, and the shadows seemed to grow bolder, reaching out with claw-like tendrils.

Suddenly, a low, resonant hum filled the air. It vibrated through the rock, through their bones, shaking loose bits of stone from the ceiling.

The soldiers halted, their eyes darting wildly in search of the source.

The hum grew louder, more insistent, until it became a chorus of whispers—indistinct words that spoke of secrets long buried and horrors best forgotten.

"Keep your focus," Lyerin barked, his eyes blazing with intensity. "Do not listen."

Easier said than done.

The whispers clawed at their minds, dredging up memories, regrets, and fears.

One soldier dropped to his knees, clutching his head. "Make it stop!" he cried, his voice cracking. "I can't—"

Another soldier yanked him to his feet. "Get up! Don't give in!"

But the deeper they ventured, the more the cave twisted their senses.

Shapes moved in the corners of their eyes—impossible things that vanished when they turned to look.

The walls pulsed with a sickly light, and the whispers grew louder, merging into a cacophony of madness.

The ground beneath them shifted again, and suddenly, they found themselves in a vast chamber.

The ceiling arched high above, disappearing into darkness.

Strange, luminescent fungi clung to the walls, casting an eerie green glow.

Pools of black water dotted the chamber, their surfaces disturbingly still.

The air was thick with tension, and every breath felt like inhaling smoke.

Lyerin strode forward, unfazed by the nightmarish scene around them. He stopped in the center of the chamber and turned to face the soldiers.

"We are here," he said, his voice echoing ominously. "What lies beyond this point is not for the faint of heart."

The soldiers, pale and trembling, could only nod.

Whatever lay ahead, they knew it would test them in ways they could not yet comprehend. And as they stood there, surrounded by the living, breathing darkness of the cave, they realized there was no turning back.

The soldiers stepped cautiously into the chamber, their eyes widening as they took in their surroundings.

Gone were the grotesque, writhing walls from before.

Instead, they found themselves surrounded by remnants of an ancient civilization, preserved by the cold embrace of the underwater cave.

The chamber was vast, its walls carved with intricate murals that glowed softly with an otherworldly light.

Symbols and pictographs danced across the stone, telling stories that none of them could immediately understand, but their sheer presence filled the air with a weighty reverence.

At the center of the chamber stood towering pillars, their surfaces etched with spiraling patterns that seemed to twist and shift when looked at directly.

The soldiers moved slowly, their boots clinking against the stone floor, as if afraid that any sudden movement would disturb whatever ancient spirits lingered in this place.

Lyerin, as always, strode ahead with unwavering confidence, his gaze scanning the murals with a mix of interest and something else—something deeper, more personal.

The first mural they approached depicted a battle frozen in time.

Figures—humans, orcs, and strange beasts—fought side by side against a tide of shadows.

Spears clashed against claws, and tendrils of darkness writhed across the stone surface.

The details were astonishingly lifelike, as if the artists had captured the very essence of chaos and frozen it within the rock.

One of the soldiers reached out hesitantly, his fingers hovering just above the surface of the mural. "What... what is this place?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft hum of the glowing carvings.

Lyerin didn't answer. He was already moving on, his gaze fixed on the next mural.

This one depicted a council of figures—warriors and scholars, each with symbols glowing above their heads.

They stood around a great circle, their hands raised in a gesture of unity or perhaps desperation.

The symbols glowed faintly in response to the soldiers' presence, as if recognizing their intrusion.

"Is this... some kind of prophecy?" another soldier asked, his voice low and uneasy. He traced the outlines of the symbols with his eyes, trying to make sense of their meaning.

"History, maybe," muttered another, his eyes darting around nervously. "Or a warning."

"Whatever it is," Lucas said, stepping closer, "it's old. Very old."

The air in the chamber was thick, heavy with an ancient energy that seemed to seep into their bones.

Every breath felt heavier, every step slower, as if the weight of time itself was pressing down on them.

The murals continued, each one telling a fragment of a story too vast to comprehend.

They showed scenes of creation and destruction, of alliances forged and betrayed, of peace shattered by relentless war.

One particularly large mural caught their attention.

It depicted a monstrous creature rising from the depths of an ocean, its form a grotesque amalgamation of tentacles, claws, and eyes.

The creature loomed over tiny figures who raised weapons in defiance, their faces etched with both terror and determination.

The stone seemed to tremble beneath their gaze, as if the memory of the battle still echoed within.

"What kind of beast is that?" a soldier asked, his voice trembling.

"One that should have remained forgotten," Lyerin replied, his tone cold. He turned away from the mural, as if unwilling to look at it any longer.

Their journey through the chamber led them deeper, past more murals and carvings that grew increasingly disjointed and chaotic.

The stories they told became harder to follow, as if the artists themselves had descended into madness.

The soldiers pressed on, their unease growing with every step.

This place was ancient, yes, but it was also deeply, irrevocably wrong.

Finally, they reached the far end of the chamber, where the murals gave way to a towering stone altar.

Atop the altar lay an ancient-looking disk, its surface engraved with countless runes and symbols that pulsed with a faint, rhythmic light.

The disk was large, perhaps as wide as a man's chest, and made of a metal that none of them recognized.

It shimmered in hues of silver and green, casting shifting reflections across the chamber.

Lyerin approached the altar, his footsteps echoing in the vast silence.

He reached out, but paused just short of touching the disk.

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he seemed lost in thought.

The soldiers gathered behind him, their breaths held.

The ancient disk seemed to radiate power, and its presence filled the chamber with a tangible tension.

No one dared to speak.

They could only watch, waiting for whatever came next.