Drip—
Drip—
Drip—
In the pitch-black world, droplets fell from the rock walls every four or five seconds. The sound of the droplets shattering echoed through the entire tunnel, eventually drawing two figures over.
A young man walked in front, holding a torch in his hand.
When he reached the rock wall where the droplets were falling, he stretched out his palm, pressed it against the stone, and closed his eyes to sense it.
A few seconds passed before he asked the elder behind him:
"Teacher, we should have been traveling underground for many days already, but I still can't sense that place. Even my skills can barely function properly..."
The youth's voice was helpless as he continued onward.
The elder behind him leaned on an ancient yew staff. Though his steps were slow, they had a clear rhythm, and he always kept pace with the young man's nimble stride ahead:
"The will of the Old King covers Anindaluhut."
"No one can break through his blockade."
"As those who came after in pursuit of the unknown, all we can do is search slowly here."
Hearing that answer, the youth's voice grew somewhat tense:
"But you also said that the enemy lurking in the darkness has their sights set on this place!"
The old man's voice remained steady:
"But just like us, they cannot break through the Old King's blockade."
"Besides, to enter this place, they must first break the seal. Do not throw yourself into disarray merely because an enemy exists."
"..."
The youth fell silent.
He knew his teacher was right.
But when he thought of the crisis facing the entire world, he could not help feeling anxious.
Drip—
Behind them, farther and farther away, droplets continued to fall from the dark rock walls.
The darkness and that endlessly