Chapter 327: One on Each Side

Chapter 327: Chapter 327: One on Each Side

Seraphina Sinclair didn’t offer any explanation. She placed the lantern in the Sunflower’s pot, walked over to Lyra Lowell, and casually took the flashlight tucked at his waist.

She didn’t turn off the lantern, so she didn’t get too close to the mountain of flesh.

After stopping at a safe distance, Seraphina Sinclair gently twisted the flashlight on, angling its beam onto the mountain of flesh.

The lantern’s glow was softer, its edges less defined.

But the flashlight was different. The moment it was on, it formed a stable pillar of light.

Now, as this beam of light fell upon the wall of flesh, the other three could tell it was different from before with just a single glance.

When the four of them had first arrived, this wall—aside from the fact that it was breathing and made of a peculiar material—had looked no different from any other.

But now, several distinct bulges had swelled up on its surface.

Upon closer inspection, these bulges were directly opposite where they had been standing with the lantern just moments ago.

"This is the phototropism Serafelle Sinclair mentioned," Fayestar murmured, her gaze toward Seraphina Sinclair incredibly complex. "Such powers of observation..."

Lyra Lowell’s jaw dropped. It took him a long moment to recover, and he stammered, "It looks like... what the boss said was actually true."

His way of addressing Seraphina Sinclair had already changed to "boss."

As for Alaric Hawthorn, he had already experienced Seraphina Sinclair’s Intimidation firsthand, so he was now the most placid of them all.

His gaze swept over the other two, a hint of pride in his eyes, as if he’d seen Seraphina Sinclair’s true colors long ago.

Lyra Lowell and Fayestar, on the receiving end of this look, were utterly bewildered.

’What’s he so proud of?’

’Didn’t Serafelle Sinclair figure this pattern out?’

The more Fayestar thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed. She decided to just ignore Alaric Hawthorn and turned to Lyra Lowell. "Since we’ve found the pattern, Lyra Lowell, if you please."

She said it so politely that Lyra Lowell didn’t immediately realize what she was asking him to do.

Only when Alaric Hawthorn’s and Seraphina Sinclair’s gazes also fell on him did he finally understand.

"You still want me to test the waters?!"

He shrieked, looking at Seraphina Sinclair in disbelief. "Didn’t the boss already figure out the pattern?! Why do you need me to experiment?"

"This isn’t an experiment," Alaric Hawthorn replied coolly. "Now, we need to pass through this wall of flesh one by one. You’re first."

Lyra Lowell’s face flushed red, and a fire ignited in his chest. The flames grew stronger and stronger, burning away his restraint and bringing all his pent-up dissatisfaction to the surface.

He turned to look at Fayestar. Just now in the corridor, when they were being chased by the releaser of Embers, she was the one who had turned back and pulled him into the room.

In other words, if it weren’t for Fayestar, he would have been dead long ago.

And Seraphina Sinclair...

Lyra Lowell clenched his jaw. That fire, and what happened just now... if Seraphina Sinclair hadn’t figured out the pattern, he was afraid he’d already be dead.

He couldn’t say anything against Fayestar, and he certainly couldn’t complain about Seraphina Sinclair.

So...

Lyra Lowell glared viciously at Alaric Hawthorn, his eyes bloodshot with rage and fear.

He clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug deep into his palms, barely suppressing the urge to lunge at him.

Alaric Hawthorn was taken aback by the glare, then frowned, his tone turning hostile. "What are you looking at me for? This is the most logical arrangement! You have a problem with it?"

"Logical?"

Lyra Lowell’s voice shot up, laced with uncontrollable rage and trembling.

"Logical my ass! It’s just because I’m the weakest and the easiest to bully, isn’t it? If you’re going to pick on the weakest, just do it, but don’t you dare call it ’logical’! Alaric Hawthorn, you’re so fucking hypocritical!"

Alaric Hawthorn’s expression darkened. He tightened his grip on his long spear, his voice icy.

"Do you think this is a game? This is a lethal instance, and everyone wants to live! Having you go first is the most logical arrangement because if you succeed, the rest of us can follow immediately. You want us to scout the path? If something were to happen to the three of us, do you really think you could make it out of here alive on your own?"

"I... I..."

It was as if Lyra Lowell’s throat was blocked. Faced with Alaric Hawthorn’s cold questioning, his bellyful of rage and fear had nowhere to go, and his face drained of color, turning from red to a sickly green.

He knew, of course, that Alaric Hawthorn was telling the truth.

If the three of them—Seraphina Sinclair and the others, who were clearly more capable—all died here, he wouldn’t last a second alone in this bizarre mine.

But that did nothing to quell the humiliation and despair in his heart.

He stared at the slowly writhing wall of flesh, at the viscous, dark-red fluid dripping from the edges of the fissure. He imagined squeezing sideways into it, the cold, mushy bodies suddenly tightening around him, swallowing him, crushing him...

His stomach churned violently.

"I just want to live!" Lyra Lowell roared, his voice cracking with a tremor. "Who doesn’t want to live?!"

"Enough."

Seraphina Sinclair uttered the single word. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was like a basin of cold water poured over Lyra Lowell’s head, instantly extinguishing his boiling emotions and making him shudder involuntarily.

Just that one word. She said nothing more.

Seraphina Sinclair glanced at Alaric Hawthorn, who immediately seemed to understand. His eyes narrowed as he walked straight toward Lyra Lowell.

"What are you doing? What are you doing?"

Lyra Lowell shouted as he backed away.

"Are you going to attack a teammate? How could you do this? Alaric Hawthorn! Do you not care about your name anymore? If I get out of here, I’ll definitely embellish this story and post it on the regional channel so everyone can flame you..."

The more Seraphina Sinclair listened, the more she thought Lyra Lowell was an idiot. She silently turned away, pretending nothing was happening.

Fayestar, however, watched with great interest, looking more than ready to help Alaric Hawthorn at a moment’s notice.

As for Alaric Hawthorn, the target of the tirade...

He sneered, moving so fast Lyra Lowell couldn’t react. The shaft of his spear swept out with precision, striking the back of Lyra Lowell’s knees.

"Ah!" Lyra Lowell cried out in pain, stumbling forward and collapsing to his knees uncontrollably.

He had just started to struggle when Alaric Hawthorn pressed a knee into his spine and pinned his hands behind his back. The movements were crisp and efficient, clearly practiced.

"Let me go! What are you doing?! Serafelle Sinclair! Fayestar! Are you just going to stand there and watch him bully me?!"

Lyra Lowell was so shocked and furious his voice changed pitch.

Seraphina Sinclair acted as if she hadn’t heard a thing. Fayestar, on the other hand, walked up with a grin, helping Alaric Hawthorn lift Lyra Lowell with an enthusiasm that suggested she was performing a great public service.

One on his left and one on his right, they all but carried the limp Lyra Lowell, striding quickly toward the bleeding fissure.

The wall of flesh was just inches away, its thick stench of blood and rot nearly suffocating.

Lyra Lowell could even clearly see the melting features on the twisted faces and feel the bizarrely warm mucus seeping from the fissure, dripping onto his shoulders and arms.

He was trembling like a leaf in the wind, his mouth never stopping its shouts: "Let me go! Alaric Hawthorn! Alaric Hawthorn, you bastard!"