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墨書 Inktalez
The shout from Fatty sent a chill down both Jack's and my spines.
A little upstream of the Underground River, there was a type of transparent leech that had nearly cost both Jack and me our lives. Here in the Underground River, the water temperature was even lower. I wasn't sure if those leeches could survive in this cold, but the Giant Bat could thrive and hunt in these conditions, so it was possible that the leeches could survive here as well. If they were in the water, it would be a serious problem.
As Fatty's shout echoed, I saw Jack's muzzle dip slightly, and a barrage of bullets swept across the white waves.
The white foam rolled towards us, pushing steadily at half a foot above the tranquil river surface. The water flowed so slowly that it was nearly imperceptible, and this white wave approached us like a model on a mirror, showing almost no variation in size or speed; it just kept coming steadily.
The wind blowing against my face and body grew stronger, carrying with it the scent of river water mixed with a sharp odor unique to the Giant Bat—not the smell of bat droppings, but rather an indescribable pungent scent secreted by their bodies. Because of this, I had no doubt that the Giant Bats were still around us.
This smell was not unfamiliar to Jack and me; however, at this moment, it was more intense and irritating, even affecting my eyes and making them uncomfortable. The involuntary tears blurred my vision.
"Damn it! Did these beasts grow up eating onions?"
Fatty's curse indicated that I wasn't the only one suffering from irritated eyes. Although the pungent smell in the wind wasn't exactly like that of onions, its effect was indeed similar to chopping them.
The irritating odor made it hard for me to see what was being stirred up in the white waves, but I could tell that Jack's barrage of bullets had no effect on the water. They did nothing to stop the advancing waves or even change their number.
"It's the Giant Bats causing trouble; they're driving the piranhas towards us. The cold doesn't affect those fish as long as they stay out of the water. We can't let them capsize our boat."
Tang Yumo remained focused on rowing, even when spent shell casings from Jack's automatic rifle fell onto her. It didn't distract her from her task. However, it was clear she was exerting herself to the limit; after all, a girl's stamina is limited. Even I felt exhausted, let alone her. It took her two pauses to get that short sentence out.
"Piranhas?! Aren't they exclusive to the Amazon? How did they end up here? And why are they immune to freezing?"
I interrupted Fatty's foul language, panting heavily. "It should be a subspecies; Piranhas are not exclusive to the Amazon."
"It's a variant if it's a Piranha," Jack said quickly, changing his magazine as his eyes shifted from the pavement to a higher vantage point. "This could be the only cold-water Piranha discovered so far. This species has only been found in tropical and warm waters before. So, there might be something else in the water. Sister Tang, from your tone, it sounds like you've seen this thing."
"Yes," Tang Yumo replied expressionlessly. "Our main danger is still in the air; if we get rid of those Piranhas, they will scatter immediately. Piranhas only operate in the shallow areas of the Underground River; deep waters are their no-go zone, where their enemies reside."
"What do your Piranhas look like?" I asked Tang Yumo.
I wanted to confirm whether the Piranhas she mentioned were indeed what we typically think of as Piranhas. After all, this species is easy to identify. Moreover, I was more concerned about Jack's ominous prediction—that the waves were not caused by Piranhas but by something far more terrifying that we had yet to encounter. I believed this possibility was quite high.
Piranhas are social, carnivorous fish that attack much larger species frantically when stimulated by the scent of blood. Just as Jack suspected, I also thought the lateral wind was caused by Giant Bats. Although none of us voiced this suspicion, our actions clearly indicated our thoughts on the matter. For instance, Jack was firing wildly toward the direction of the crosswind—not merely venting frustration or wasting bullets.
I believed that even though I hadn't seen it, such a dense barrage of bullets must have hit the troublesome Giant Bats. So why didn’t those fallen bats, releasing a massive scent of blood, attract the Piranhas back for a meal?
"Focus on rowing. You'll see that thing soon enough. I don't want to be caught by Giant Bats."
Tang Yumo struggled to finish her sentence and refused to answer my questions further.
It was impossible for me to call Fatty to row now. He was balancing the boat, half his body still leaning out as he cursed loudly while staring wide-eyed at the steadily approaching waves. I estimated that without him holding down one side of the boat, it would have already capsized.
Aside from Fatty's roaring curses, the only sounds in the air were Tang Yumo and I rowing and our heavy breathing. Ironically, the one who had made the most noise earlier and his gun remained silent.
"Why did you stop shooting?! Do you want them to catch up with us?"
The silence and darkness were driving me nearly insane. The strong wind caused the three torches stuck at the bow and stern of the boat to flicker violently, casting our shadows on the pavement into erratic shapes that danced like a group of frenzied hippies.
My nervous questioning received no response from Jack; instead, I heard Fatty let out an even louder roar accompanied by more vulgar curses.
The figure of Fatty leaned into the wind, the light from the torches on the ship casting his shadow onto the pavement, leaving his face shrouded in darkness. The pungent smell in the air grew stronger, and I had to muster my courage to turn my face toward the side where the wind blew.
The first thing that caught my eye was Tang Yumo's tear-streaked face. She sat on the side where the wind blew, yet her face was turned in the opposite direction. Even so, the intense odor caused tears to stream down her cheeks. I knew I was in a similar state; I could feel the tears rolling down my face, dripping from my chin.
We exchanged a glance, both of us with tear-stained faces, seemingly unwilling to confront each other directly, our eyes meeting only briefly before darting away. Then, from behind Tang Yumo, I saw Fatty leaning over the ship's railing.
At that moment, his hands were still cupped, but his fingers had spread apart, water rushing through them and dripping into the Underground River. Water flowed down his face and bald head as well. However, his eyes were tightly shut, veins at his temples pulsating violently, and the sounds escaping his mouth were indistinguishable between curses and primal screams.
From his posture, it was clear he had just washed his face and eyes with water from the Underground River.
"Idiot."
Jack glanced in Fatty's direction, tears streaming down his own face. (To Be Continued...)
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