A formless mass of flesh and tentacles, half-buried beneath the arid earth. Only enormous appendages emerged, slithering across the surface, ready to strike the unwary. A low, almost imperceptible rumble vibrated through the air, seeping into my bones. This low-frequency howl wasn't just a sound—it was a trap, an invisible call that blurred the senses, sowed doubt and confusion.
Then, a movement. Slow, relentless.
The tentacles tightened around an invisible prey, crushing the air with a force that gave me a grim preview of what would happen to anyone caught.
It was there, lurking beneath our feet, and it was waiting.
But my plan was already in motion.
Opening the blood flask, I clumsily mimicked a Sharok, trying to take control with as much finesse as possible. It wasn't perfect—far from it—but I was counting on a bit of luck.
