The small boat continued to drift slowly.
All around was still that endless expanse of gray-white sea. There was no wind, no waves, only the faint sound of the hull occasionally slicing through the water, rippling outward into the vast, unending silence.
Chris leaned against the stern, a pipe clamped between his teeth and his legs casually propped on the gunwale, looking as lazy as a cat basking in the sun.
Ryan, however, kept his gaze fixed on the distance.
In his mind, the images of blood, stampedes, and gunshots on East Port Square still lingered, along with that increasingly thick, sweet fragrance.
After a long silence, he finally spoke.
“Do you know what happened at East Port?”
Chris cracked open one eye.
“Of course I do.”
“How is it going over there now?”
“Is it over?”
Hearing this question, Chris suddenly grinned, flashing a brilliant smile. It was filled with an unvarnished, mischievous amusement, like someone who already knew the answer but took immense pleasure in watching others struggle with the riddle.
“That's a secret.”
After saying this, he solemnly pressed his index finger to his lips.
“However...”
“I can tell you one thing for free.”
Ryan looked at him.
Chris said with a beaming smile,
“It's not over.”
“Far from it.”
“Everything happening in East Port right now is just the beginning. The truly interesting things are still to come.”
He spoke of it with absolute nonchalance.
As if a chaos involving thousands of people was nothing more than a play that had just raised its curtain.
Ryan frowned, wanting to press further.
But Chris suddenly waved his hand.
“Alright.”
“That's enough talk about East Port for today.”
“Knowing some things too early isn't necessarily a good thing.”
He stretched as he spoke, his gaze suddenly falling onto the deep seawater beside the boat. As if remembering something, he slowly added,
“Oh, by the way.”
“Whatever you do, don't use your extraordinary vision to look beneath the sea.”
Ryan was taken aback.
“Why?”
“No reason.”
Chris grinned.
“Just don't look.”
“It'll give you a headache.”
Ryan stared at him in silence.
After a few seconds, he suddenly smiled.
“You're deliberately trying to make me look.”
Chris froze for a moment, then burst into hearty laughter, his voice echoing across the open sea.
“Hahaha...”
“As expected of a Lantern.”
“You certainly are sharp.”
“If I hadn't warned you, would you have even thought to look down?”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
Chris spread his hands, looking completely innocent.
“But you will now, won't you?”
Ryan couldn't help but pinch the bridge of his nose.
Moth.
It really was Moth.
Every word from the man before him seemed calculated to nudge others in a completely different direction, and yet he did it with absolute, shameless confidence.
“Don't worry.”
Once Chris finished laughing, he lazily lay back down again.
“It's not actually a big deal to take a look.”
“At least, for a Lantern.”
“There's even a bit of benefit.”
“A benefit?”
“Of course.”
Chris winked.
“If a Lantern only ever shines on books, it ceases to be a Lantern.”
“True knowledge...”
“...is sometimes found precisely where you dare not look.”
Ryan fell silent.
He knew.
He should refuse.
Yet, the more he told himself that, the stronger the desire belonging to the Lantern Principle grew—an almost uncontrollable urge to uncover the unknown. It was as if some ultimate answer truly lay hidden at the bottom of the sea, its silent call exerting an irresistible pull on his gaze.
Ultimately, he lowered his head.
At first, there was nothing.
The sea remained calm.
The deep blue surface was as still as a colossal mirror. The shadow of the boat drifted slowly across it, devoid of fish or any signs of life.
Ryan slowly closed his eyes.
Then, he opened them once more.
The glow belonging to the Lantern slowly kindled in the depths of his consciousness.
Behind his lenses, the entire world began to shift.
The seawater grew increasingly transparent, and reality was peeled back layer by layer like a thin veil.
Still, there was nothing. Ryan continued to focus his mind.
The glow grew brighter and brighter, his vision extending deeper and deeper into the ocean depths.
At a certain moment, he suddenly saw it. There was something down there.
Incredibly deep.
Incredibly distant.
Lying there quietly.
Ryan instinctively narrowed his eyes.
And then, he froze completely.
A worm.
It was a worm of incomprehensible, colossal proportions.
No.
"Worm" was not the right word.
For he could find no language to describe the entity before him.
He could only perceive a single, tiny segment of its body.
Just one segment.
Yet that alone was massive enough to dwarf the entirety of East Port. Countless pale, ringed segments of its body lay in a silent, ancient slumber deep within the ocean bed.
And its true form stretched endlessly into the darkness, without limit or boundary, as if the entire ocean was merely a thin puddle of water clinging to its back.
Ryan's mind went utterly blank. Language collapsed; logic shattered.
Up and down, near and far, large and small—all of these fundamental concepts lost their meaning in an instant.
He could no longer even comprehend what he was looking at.
He only knew that it existed.
That it had always existed.
Boom—
An overwhelming torrent of incomprehensible information instantly flooded his mind.
Ryan's vision plunged into darkness.
Without warning, blood gushed from his nose.
Then.
His ears.
The corners of his eyes.
The corners of his mouth.
Blood dripped incessantly.
His breathing grew shallow and rapid, his body trembling violently. His mind was reduced to pure chaos, as if countless alien voices were whispering simultaneously in the depths of his consciousness. The harder he tried to hear them clearly, the less he could understand.
Beside him, Chris was already doubling over with laughter.
“Hahahahaha!”
“You actually looked!”
“I knew you would!”
“Hahaha!”
He laughed so hard he could barely stand, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He had absolutely no intention of stepping in to help; he simply slapped the wooden deck, letting out one delighted chuckle after another.
The chaos and malice inherent to the Moth Principle were on full, unadulterated display.
“Splendid!”
“To see it on your very first try!”
“A foolish Lantern is a foolish Lantern after all!”
...
Ryan snapped his eyes open.
Meeting his gaze was no longer the gray-white sea, but the familiar attic room in the East End slums.
The kerosene lamp on the desk was still lit.
However, its flame was weak, on the verge of guttering out.
He sat up, panting heavily.
The next second, a sudden warmth filled his nasal passage, and blood trickled down from his nostrils.
Right after.
His ears.
The corners of his eyes.
The corners of his mouth.
Warm blood dripped down continuously.
Ryan reached up to touch his face.
His hand came away stained crimson.
“Damn it...”
That bastard Chris had done it on purpose from the very beginning.
Almost the instant this thought crossed his mind, the memory of that ocean floor and that indescribably massive worm-like form slowly resurfaced from the depths of his mind. His consciousness began to spiral back into chaos.
I can't think about it.
I absolutely must not.
Without a shred of hesitation, Ryan scrambled to his feet and slammed his head into the attic wall with all the strength he could muster.
Thud—
The searing pain instantly drowned out the chaos in his mind.
But it wasn't enough.
Thud—
A second blow.
His vision began to darken.
Thud—
A third.
Rate on N.U.
