from the whirlpool

over the bars The water flows slowly. It's not clear water. water that swallows light, a dull flow of sound. This is under the sea It's not nature, it's a locked structure. "The vortex didn't bring us in." Naird speaks low. "It's been dragged." The dryer looks around. There are no trees or coral on the wall artificially trimmed stones and waterways. It is not the grain of the forest, nor is it the grain of the sea. a prison that mimics nature. then, Shadows rise in the water. Rotten water takes the form of a human being. I can hear the memory scratching. a corruption-ridden ghost. At the moment when we're approaching My head is getting blurry. The dryer doesn't close its eyes. Hold the crossbow Shoot a frost-cracking bullet. The cold air is spreading The ghost's shape splits. The floor is rough. It's a mixture of mud and organs It's crawling out. The moment you step on it a split. "Don't step on it. Cut it!" Naird steps forward. The sword cuts the water. The clipped chunks Before we get back together a continuous cut. in the water A scream-like sound goes off. be familiar with form. It's even more awful because it's so familiar. erosion niad remnants. It's not a song a watery cry. Naird pauses for a moment. But they don't lower their swords. "I'm sorry." a moon-greeting sword. The moon-like trajectory He cuts it down as if he was hugging the remnants. The afterglows are scattered It's going back to the water. on the wall of a waterway The black one is stuck together. As the water goes by Everything disappears. a black filter. Dryer judges immediately. It's over when you come into contact. The roots extend along the wall. The power of grass and soil Prevent inhalation of the filter. in the midst of it a vision arrow. The filter is falling off like it's tearing It sinks to the floor. under the floor A giant bug pulls itself up. Toxic bubbles flow. a septic trench crawler. Naid comes to the fore. a sword loaded with water and wind. Even if a bug's body is cut off Poison splatters. Dryers keep their distance. a crossbow speaker. a mixture of frost and vision Freeze and break the torso. The end of the waterway, The one that looks like a control seat It shines. a united being with him. a gatekeeper of corruption. "If you want to get by, you react...” Naid grits his teeth. That's not a word. It's a condition. The dryer steps forward. The energy of the forest Cover the floor. the flow of nature Overwrite the logic of the structure. The gatekeeper is shaking The control seat is cracked. in the air The spores are falling down. an infiltrating spear. a move to stifle one's breath. The niad spins the sword. A swirl of water wraps around the spores. Dried food is Every step of the way I'll shoot exactly. Spores can't multiply It disappears in the water. Lastly Blood is flowing. from cracks on the floor It crawls toward the wound. Blood leak. The dryer backs away. It doesn't bleed. Naird has already moved. a sword stabbing. flowing blood I can't find my direction anymore. Wait, It's still. then The sound of footsteps is ringing. the masked men. Sea Wilder and Wooden Wilder. Ice and water, Trees and wind. "He's not here to catch us...” Naird says. “…I was guarding this place." The dryer takes over. This is not a prison that happened to fall. It's intentionally made, a deliberate throw-in place. The dryer fixes the crossbow. "Let's escape." Naird nods. "And The one who made this Find it." The water begins to flow again. This time Not backwards Forward. Should we keep going?