A Gorgeous White

Chapter 288: Looming Hands

The greenish fog seemed to grow thicker, looming particularly as the third group finally crossed the bridge. The dark plains before them were waiting to be trodden upon. For some reason, Moulin felt uneasy as he watched the last person of the third group hurriedly step away from the last plank of the bridge as if his feet were on fire.

"Ao!"

Snow's alarmed bark finally caught Moulin's attention. At the same time, Kier suddenly raised his head with sharp eyes. Moulin then knew something was wrong.

"Moulin?" Ghana turned to his friend, noticing the sudden tension. She was one of the people of the second group that crossed the bridge.

Jagra instantly raised his brows, "What is it?"

"Something's wrong," Moulin muttered as he took a few steps near the exit of the bridge. A concerned crease appeared between his eyebrows as he stared seriously at the cloud before him, like a wall that seemed to swallow anything that comes near it.

It was quiet. Not a sound could be heard.

Unable to wait any longer, Moulin decided to enter the fog and make sure Hadrian, his brother, and the others were alright. However, before he could even take a step forward, he heard the familiar sounds of boots stepping on creaking wood. It sounded as if the person was walking carefully slow.

Ghana and the others sighed in relief. If one had safely crossed, the others would be too.

However, Moulin didn't relax one bit. Alarm suddenly blared inside his head when he felt Hadrian's heartbeat slowly quicken!

Creak!

Moulin stopped when a figure emerged from the fogged entrance of the bridge.

"!!!"

Thud!

Knees heavily crashed on the ground. A man, whom Moulin recognized was the one who mocked him at the falls, had his face disfigured, bleeding endlessly as three black scratched deeply slashed across his face. However, it wasn't only his face that bledtorn gaps decorated every part of his once garbed limbs. Diagonal wounds bled within those torn holes. It was as if his flesh was melting within those wounds, stained by those black ooze. The pungent smell of burning flesh was horrible and strong.

Gasps of fear and shock noises throughout the air. Moulin stared in shock as he witnessed the scene.

Finally, the man fell forward, breathing his last. The moments his body fell to the ground. It shriveled up like a withered flower. The meat from underneath its skin has dissolved.

Jagra covered his mouth, suppressing the urge to empty his stomach.

"Ao!" Snow barked once again.

At the same time, an agonized scream sounded from within the fog.

Alarmed, Moulin wasted no time as he rushed into the bridge. He felt as if he was faster than before. He heard Jagra and Ghana call out for him from behind, but he had already entered the fog. It was too late now. Moulin felt his heart pounded as he balanced himself, stepping on one plank to the other as quickly as he could.

Whoosh!

Moulin stiffened, and he turned to face his side, vision blinded by the thick cloud of murky green. "..!"

A long blackish arm crept out from underneath him, bursting out from the wooden planks. The bridge wobbled, but Moulin was quick enough to leap forward and dodge it. Grasping the rails of ropes, he slowly regained his balance and took the opportunity to observe the attacker.

It was a wriggling arm, almost like that of a human limb, palm, fingers, and all. The only difference was that it had a black, worm-like gloss on its blackish skin and sharp claws for nails. The arm moved like a snake, reaching out, tapping on the wood like how a blind man was to search the floor for something he'd lost. It was creepy to look at. The black ooze from its skin was perhaps, the acidic liquid that melted the flesh of its victims.

Finally, the arm slithered back to the pit underneath the bridge when it couldn't find Moulin.

Moulin turned his head behind him, and a worried expression crossed his face. He must go forward.

"Snow," Moulin called. Snow answered with a soft yip.

"Go fetch Kier." He said softly. "Be careful."

Snow nodded and hurriedly jumped down from his shoulder. Moulin watched as Snow skittered away as fast as he could.

With a sigh, Moulin then moved forward, making his steps quiet despite the loud creaking of the rotting wood. His eyes are sharp as he spread his awareness around cautiously. The bridge was long and narrow, old and rickety. It was already a miracle that three groups of five have crossed it safely.

Not long after, Moulin stiffened. He quickly stopped in time to witness another long arm whizzing before his face as fast as an arrow. Moulin bit his lip and narrowed his eyes as the arm stopped and slithered back to the side of the bridge. When Moulin took a step back, the wooden plank beneath his feet suddenly snapped into two, pulling his feet down with it.

Moulin cursed when the arm sharply headed towards him. It cut through the fog like a blade cutting through the wind.

Moulin hurriedly yanked his feet back and ducked. The arm whooshed over his head, and Moulin took the opportunity to run forward. He unsheathed his sword when he heard the arm turning directions and chasing him from behind. But the creature was faster than him, immediately an inch away from his back in the next second.

Silver eyes glowed sharply. Moulin swiveled and slashed the arm with a clean cut on the wrist. The hand fell between the gaps of the wooden planks, and the rest of the arm spasmed like a worm drowning in a sea of salt. It rapidly retreated back to the depths.

Moulin breathes out, glancing at his weapon. 'I should hurry..."

Moulin slowly stepped back cautiously. Slowly, moving backward as he warily observed his surroundings.

Suddenly, he felt movements behind him. With a sharp gaze, Moulin turned and was a centimeter away from bare skin, meeting his sword's edge.

"Easy there, little brother." Emlen raised his brows in surprise. "Although I am quite proud of your cautiousness, I hope you don't accidentally mistake me for a monster."

"Brother!" Moulin quickly lowered his sword. He swiftly went to check if he had cut his brother's neck. "Forgive me, are you alright?"

"I am fine." Emlen drew his brows together as he rubbed his neck. "Now, what do you think you are thinking, entering the fog again?!"

"I was worried!" Moulin replied. "Where's Hadrian?"

Emlen felt a nerve on his forehead pulsed. However, it wasn't the time to express his envy. He could only glance behind him. "There are creatures attacking us, hindering us from crossing the bridge. I cannot sense the Lord through the fog." Then he stopped and turned to Moulin. "Perhaps, you can."

Moulin paused. There was a few seconds of silence. Moulin didn't need to answer the question.

"Let's do find him."

"I believe you won't stop until we do." Emlen sighed.

"You can't send me away."

Emlen sighed. "Because you wouldn't want me to. If it weren't that we needed your golden-eyed lover in this journey, I wouldn't waste any time dragging you out of here. Follow me and be careful."

Determined, Moulin followed Emlen as they walked forward, deeper into the fog. They were unfortunate enough to be attacked by more than one arms.

"Moulin! Be careful!" Emlen reminded as he chopped down two arms down in one swing.

"I know, brother." Moulin narrowed his eyes. His movements are sharp yet graceful as he evaded every limb that tried to reach out to touch him.

When Moulin saw one of the men being swarmed by numerous arms, he immediately rushed forward to help him. His blade sliced the gooey flesh of the limbs, leaving them to fall into the pit.

"Watch out!" The man he saved yelled.

Moulin swiftly dodged the incoming claw towards him just in time. However, his feet slipped into one of the gaps, and he had to grab onto the ropes to keep himself from losing his balance any further. The hilt of his sword almost slipped from his fingers.

And if it weren't because of a particular man's strong arm that pulled him away from the looming hands that reached for him, he would've had his flesh melted.

Moulin panted as he clutched at the arm around him. "Where were you?"

Hadrian deeply spoke, "Forgive me for delaying."

'Of course, you are. Do you know how worried I was?' Moulin grumbled internally.