Chapter 437: Chapter 437
The artist who created this oil painting must have possessed an exquisite skill, for anyone who laid eyes upon it for the first time felt an inescapable dread seep from the depths of their soul. It seemed to hold a magical power, compelling one to stare.
This was the very hall where Jenkins had watched the advance team descend into the ground below. The problem could only be this painting; to his eyes, it emanated a faint, mixed aura of yellow and gold.
"The odds of our plan being leaked are slim. Something must have gone wrong after they entered the mansion. You find this painting strange as well, don't you?"
Captain Kelly inquired.
"It is... peculiar. In my experience, a painting in this position would typically be an ancestral portrait. Even if it weren't, it certainly shouldn't be a style so..."
He paused, searching for the right word.
"...a landscape of such a bizarre nature."
"Our thoughts exactly. Current scans show no cavities directly beneath the hall. We're dispatching more personnel for a deeper survey. We'll tear this whole mansion apart to find that hidden passage if we have to!"
Using the mansion's internal structure, the Scribes sketched out a rough blueprint. Careful observation revealed that the entire building was centered on the painting. Though the mansion's exterior appeared normal, its design defied the prevailing architectural styles of its era.
Following that line of thought, they discovered strange objects embedded within the walls—implements designed to facilitate the ritual, further cementing their suspicions.
Only when the specialists dispatched by the Church arrived were they finally able to decipher the ritual, combining their knowledge with the mansion's unique construction.
As a divine glow washed over the canvas, the painted colors gradually faded, revealing a pitch-black hole on the painting's surface. An icy wind gusted out, filling the building with the foul stench of rot and decay. Vaguely visible at the opening were human bones and dried blood, as if chewed on by some animal.
Yet, the wall behind the canvas remained solid. The hole in the painting was a direct conduit to some unknown space.
Jenkins stood near the back, Chocolate having slept in the crook of his arm for hours. Suddenly, the cat's furry ears twitched. It opened its eyes and stared warily at the opening before leaping to its feet in his arms.
It let out the most ferocious cry Jenkins had ever heard, its tail shooting straight up, the tip nearly brushing his chin.
Fearing he would disturb the others, Jenkins quickly tried to soothe his cat. But just then, something stirred in the profound darkness of the painted void, slithering toward the opening.
A faint rustle, barely noticeable at first, grew louder until it seemed to be right at the edge of the painting. A wave of violent nausea washed over them, immediately followed by the phantom sensation of snakes crawling over their skin. Before anyone could react, a plume of foul, green gas erupted from the hole, and the men closest to it collapsed.
"Fall back!" Captain Kelly yelled, grabbing Jenkins to pull him away. But a sharp hiss echoed from the opening. A grey tongue, as thick as Jenkins's waist, shot out and coiled around his midsection with terrifying precision.
An unearthly cry tore through the air, and the illusory edges of the hole began to waver, threatening to collapse. The creature within finally revealed itself: a colossal, mummified serpent. It writhed, attempting to push its head through the opening, only to be stopped each time by some invisible barrier.
It remained cloaked in that obscure darkness, only a pair of grayish-white eyes, brimming with death, clearly visible. Its massive, shadowy body was covered in bizarre yet sacred symbols that seemed less like markings and more like patterns that had formed naturally with its scales.
Boundless chaos assaulted their minds. It felt as if their very spirits were being gnawed by countless tiny snakes as grotesque and terrifying hallucinations flooded their vision. A shrill ringing filled their ears, and in an instant, all five senses descended into chaos. The source of thɪs content is NoveI(F)ire.net
As the great serpent appeared, the very air seemed to congeal. Those who remained conscious were enveloped by an inexplicable terror, a certainty that the deepest darkness was about to fall. The feeling compelled them to turn and flee, but Jenkins was trapped.
With a guttural hiss, the serpent's long tongue began to drag him toward the opening. The moment his feet left the floor, he thrust his cane sideways, wedging it firmly in the crack of the mansion's main door. His entire body was yanked taut, suspended in the air.
He hung there, facing the ceiling, both hands gripping the cane as the tongue around his waist pulled with immense force. The fabric of his clothes began to corrode where the tongue touched it, and a paralyzing numbness spread from his skin across his entire body.
Chocolate tumbled from Jenkins's chest. Hidden from its master's view, the cat turned toward the massive serpent and let out a sharp, commanding cry. Incredibly, the force that threatened to tear Jenkins in two lessened slightly.
All of this transpired in less than two seconds. Jenkins knew instantly that the creature in the hole was no ordinary aberration. The sheer intensity of the mental contamination signified a higher being, a form of life far beyond the human scale.
His strength was no match for the serpent's tongue. His only choice was to first activate his healing ability, hoping to neutralize whatever snake venom or corpse toxin was coursing through him.
His vision was severely limited in his upward-facing position, and he had no idea if anyone was left to help him. As his mind raced through his available powers, the Life Pearl materialized above his forehead.
A green mist enveloped Jenkins's body, then surged toward the serpent's tongue. The life energy flowed along the appendage, racing toward the hole in the painting. Undead creatures were fundamentally opposed to the spirit of life. Before the mist had even traveled halfway, the massive tongue snapped in two and dropped to the floor. An ear-splitting roar erupted from the opening as the serpent's head recoiled several feet into the shadows, but it remained there, its eyes still fixed on the people in the hall.
The great serpent maintained its lurking vigil until reinforcements finally arrived. They rescued the unconscious Scribes and set the painting ablaze, causing the portal to vanish completely.
It was clearly unwilling to sever its connection to the material world, yet it seemed to fear something, holding back its full power. After the fire, all that remained in the charred foyer were the skeletal remains that had been tossed from the hole. They weren't the Church's Benefactors, but the missing citizens of Bel Diran from the past three years.