The closer Iver got to the center of the city-state, the stronger the sluggishness caused by the cursed ripples in the air became.
It was like walking along the seaside—even if the waves were relatively calm, one would still surge over him every few steps. And the closer one got to the Deep Sea, the more obvious the sensation of weightlessness became.
The tide's power itself had not actually grown much stronger. It was mainly because more and more of one's body was submerged in the water, causing the buoyancy one experienced to increase as well. As a result, one's center of gravity became increasingly unbalanced—
—The sensation they were experiencing at that moment was exactly the same.
It wasn't that the power of the petrification curse had increased... It was that their resistance had begun to weaken.
Iver was still fine. He merely felt a faint grit beneath his boots, and when he lifted his foot, he found that the heel was covered in gray-white fragments. Sherlock's spells were still operating normally.
Ligeia, on the other hand—having relied solely on the Winged Ones' resistance to petrification to make it this far—was beginning to feel the strain distinctly.
There were no obvious signs of petrification on her body, but every movement had become several, even a dozen times, more laborious.
Her steps were visibly labored and unsteady, like walking through water—or through mud or snow. Each step required a little extra force, making her movements seem somewhat clumsy.
"Getting closer to the core area will probably accelerate the petrification."
Sherlock glanced at Ligeia and proactively cast a spell to increase her resistance.
A flash of dusky green light swept over Ligeia. She let out a slight breath of relief, and her back straightened somewhat.
"It's still... a little difficult."
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