As an ancient magical creature, merfolk possessed both a wizard's acute sensitivity to magic and a beast's innate instinct for danger. So when the figure of that Black Goat fell into Professor Garcia's sight, the scales on his arms and the dorsal fin beneath his robes sensed immense terror before his mind did.
His scales stood on end, his dorsal fin rose, and the old merman forgot to breathe for an instant.
Just then.
Crack, crack-crack.
Several totems worshipped by the Linzhong Lake Merfolk Tribe for ages let out ominous cracking sounds. The Spirit Offerings lingering within the totems were warning their devout believers.
Professor Garcia stiffly turned his neck and looked at the nearest tortoiseshell. Drawn upon it in rough strokes were several merfolk battling a Kraken. It was the tribe's most powerful totem.
But at that moment, a faint layer of dark-red flame rose from the tortoiseshell, slowly burning in the black, icy lake water. Above the flames, thin, leaping tentacles could vaguely be seen thrashing wildly in every direction.
The mournful wails of the Spirit Offering drifted indistinctly from within the flames.
The old priest carrying that tortoiseshell rolled his eyes white, his face twisted in pain. The scales across his body stood erect, and his fins quivered wildly. Yet this state lasted only briefly. The slender tentacles above the flames then gathered together, blending into the shape of a shadowy hand that gently stroked the tortoiseshell and the old priest, soothing his raised scales back down.
A terrified expression appeared on Professor Garcia's face.
A chaotic, noisy chorus of prayers seemed to ring by his ears. The old professor could confirm that he did not know the language used in those prayers, yet what terrified him was that he could fully understand the meaning they conveyed: