C15 Seashore

The throne was impressively large! One could touch the left armrest, but the right was just out of reach. Sitting cross-legged on its seat felt like climbing onto a traditional heated bed, perfect for a midday nap.

Crafted from wood, the throne was neither chilly to the touch nor uncomfortable against the back, making it increasingly inviting for a snooze. Regrettably, its surface was smeared with a repulsive layer of green liquid, rendering it unsuitable for rest.

Egil attempted to rise, only to discover a slender vine ensnaring his waist, immobilizing him like a seatbelt.

He exerted force to no avail. Even with his hands, which could bend steel, he couldn't snap the vine as thin as a phone charger cord.

Realizing that brute strength was futile, Egil suspected a mechanism at play, one that would release the vine with the right manipulation.

As this thought crossed his mind, the vine retracted on its own!

Egil leaped to his feet, distancing himself from the wooden throne.

With a sense of relief, he scrutinized the throne and saw a root extending beneath it into the ground. This was no ordinary piece of furniture; it was a living plant shaped like a throne, possibly connected to the monster flower.

The incident unfolded swiftly. Martina, standing nearby, only saw Egil's initial failed attempt to stand, followed by his successful leap from the throne. She assumed Egil had been disoriented from being spat onto the throne and didn't notice the peculiar vine that had briefly entangled him.

Once Egil was free, the vine swiftly withdrew into the throne, leaving no evidence of its presence.

Martina walked around Egil, then crouched to help him remove the sticky green substance clinging to his calf.

Martina's actions grew increasingly odd, particularly since arriving here alone with Egil. Her gestures and expressions were as natural as those of a longtime friend or companion, despite her youthful appearance, which struck an odd and unsettling contrast.

Egil had intended to share the incident with the vine with Martina, but the dissonance and discomfort he felt prompted him to hold back.

After fiddling around for a bit, Martina helped Egil clean off more of the green liquid from his body. It wasn't sticky anymore, and there was no risk of slipping. With that taken care of, they began searching for a passage to continue their journey.

"The holy beast governs the path to the Temple of God, and only the true king of all can enter!"

Now that the holy beast had become immobile, resembling a potted plant, and with a king among them, the question remained: where was the path to the Temple of God?

It was nowhere to be found!

They were still in the same arena with the surrounding stands, but despite their efforts, no new exits appeared. They couldn't even determine the source of the light that illuminated the entire room.

Beneath Martina's feet, her shadow had shrunk to the size of her soles, indicating the all-encompassing lighting, which had caused the green liquid on Egil to dry up.

The green liquid on the throne even started to emit a faint green smoke.

Initially, the green liquid had a pleasant, plant-like fragrance, but as it heated up, it began to reek.

The two monster flowers had positioned themselves on either side of the throne, standing motionless. Their large, flower-mouths swayed leisurely, seemingly content.

Martina, fueled by frustration, marched over and gave the monster flower's thick stem a solid kick, startling Egil considerably.

"Where's the door? Holy beast! You stinky flower! Where is the Temple of God?" Martina yelled, delivering several more kicks in a fit of anger.

Thankfully, the monster flower continued to sway gently, apparently unfazed.

"It looks like we're not going to find it. Should we head back and come up with a new plan?" Egil proposed.

Martina turned and stormed towards Egil, her gaze fixed on his shins.

Egil turned and bolted: "That's not what I meant! We can find it, we definitely can. It's just too stinky! It's unbearable on me. I need to go back and take a bath!"

In a flash, Egil raced to the entrance, the same one they had slid down from the stone door upon arrival.

Stepping through the entrance, it was as dark as when they had first come, devoid of any light source. But upon closer inspection, a neat row of steps stretched upward.

Wait a minute! There hadn't been any steps on their way down; it was more like a slide, a smooth chute they had glided down!

Martina's footsteps drew closer, and Egil felt a sudden stir in his heart. As expected, the steps writhed and flattened, transforming the entire tube back into its original, smooth slide form.

"This..." Martina eyed the nearly fifty-degree inclined slide and remarked, "That's why it's such a hassle if we don't find the path to the Temple of God. Climbing up this way is exhausting!"

Without further ado, Martina lay down in front of Egil, bracing herself against the sides of the tube with her hands and feet. "Thankfully, it's not too wide..." Using all fours, the petite girl began her slow ascent.

Egil glanced back at the throne, pondering. Was it the throne that had granted me this power? Or was it the transformation brought about by the green liquid that had permeated my body?

Suddenly, Martina's hand slipped, but she quickly regained her grip.

"Be careful, I'm right behind you. I can catch you if you fall," Egil assured her as he hastened to keep up. Being taller than Martina, he found the climb much easier.

Egil, however, was more sly. Steps appeared under his feet, a new one materializing with each ascent, while the previous one vanished without a trace.

Martina was climbing just above Egil's head, unable to see the steps magically appearing and disappearing beneath him.

From above, Martina's breaths came heavily, and Egil deliberately breathed loudly in response, though his mind was preoccupied with the vision of a colossal tree.

An unparalleled tree, its diameter measured in kilometers, with roots extending deep into the Arctic Ocean's seabed, and part of its canopy breaking the water's surface.

Regrettably, the section of the canopy that had emerged was buried under millennia of permafrost, with man-made structures erected atop it.

Indeed, the island where Egil and his companions were situated was merely a visible fragment of the Anchor Tree's crown above the sea!

The slide Egil was climbing was unmistakably a branch, hollowed out and repurposed due to decay.

Whether the Anchor Tree was still alive or had become mere deadwood was beyond Egil's discernment. To his senses, the entire trunk and branches seemed lifeless. Yet, there were signs of life—the two monster flowers, vibrant as if part of the tree's new growth, left Egil wondering if they could be considered fresh sprouts of the Anchor Tree.

Come to think of it, the monster flower with its gaping maw swaying to and fro really did resemble a budding flower.

Martina, without a moment to spare for further sensations, spoke up from above, "We've finally reached the stone door. I'm exhausted."

Egil looked up to see a bright light overhead. But when he lowered his gaze, the light below was nowhere to be seen.

Should I share my new discovery with her?

Martina's repeated life-saving interventions had Egil's emotions inclining toward confiding in her.

Yet Egil's reason held him back.

Mark was dead, and everyone outside was under Martina's control. Egil remembered the look on Martina's face when she suggested feeding the monster flower with ordinary people...