Chapter 344.1
The Hidden Rite Isaac cast this time was massive, large enough to engulf the entire surrounding sea.
While he aimed to capture Horace’s ship, a secondary goal was to prevent any angelic intervention from reaching them prematurely.
As the surroundings grew pitch black, Horace felt as though he’d plunged into the depths of the ocean. The undead typically had excellent night vision, and the only time they sensed “darkness” was when something physically blocked their view, like the deep sea or dense fog.
In other words, this darkness was not just an absence of light; it was a tangible substance.
Crack! Before Horace could fully grasp what was happening, his ship came to a sudden halt. The abrupt stop sent him and everything else onboard—crew, cargo, and even the skeletons hanging from the rails—flying and crashing against the deck with a deafening noise. If he were still alive, Horace would have been knocked unconscious, but instead, he quickly regained his bearings and looked skyward.
There, he saw the force holding his ship in place.
Emerging from the darkness, the familiar crimson tentecals were gripping the ship. Twisted and knotted, they crushed the skeletal sailors entwined in their coils, pulling them into gaping, toothed mouths scattered along their length, devouring them greedily.
[Laughs…]
A shiver of fear climbed Horace’s spine, something undead rarely experienced. This “thing” possessed an innate horror that stirred even the dead.