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墨書 Inktalez
I pulled the meat away from my mouth once again. It seemed that the American Guy was genuinely not going to let me eat. However, his words left me feeling a bit uneasy.
"What do you mean, filling my stomach will make me regret it? Are you out of your mind?"
Jack pointed to the One-Eyed Beast Flashlight still tied around my waist and gestured aimlessly with his chin. "Take a look for yourself. I hope after you see it, you'll still have the appetite to eat."
Fatty ’s torch had been reworked before we set off, wrapped in strips soaked in Lard, but at this point, the light it emitted had diminished significantly, no longer reaching the five-meter diameter Fatty had claimed. Using this torch for illumination was somewhat inadequate; the flickering flame cast an orange glow that barely illuminated the small area we were huddled in. Our shadows didn’t stretch far, disappearing into the nearby darkness. To get a clearer view of our surroundings, we would need to use the Flashlight.
I drew the Flashlight from my waist, turned it on, and aimed it in a certain direction. The beam shot straight into the darkness, seemingly vanishing as soon as it left the glass lens of the Flashlight.
I frowned, realizing that the extreme darkness and vastness of the space made it difficult to accurately gauge the range of the Flashlight's beam. But that wasn't a problem. I quickly tilted the Flashlight downward; its beam illuminated the Ground beneath me, revealing a flat surface that stretched out like a carpet before my eyes.
With my Flashlight set to high beam, it appeared particularly bright and long in this pitch-black environment, allowing me to see about one hundred fifty meters ahead. I wasn’t sure what Jack wanted me to see. However, his casual head movements suggested he didn’t have a specific target either; it seemed like he thought I could spot whatever he wanted me to see just by looking anywhere.
In this direction, I found nothing except for the Ground that resembled an unfurnished carpet. Perhaps it was an issue of height? Sitting on the Ground affected my perspective somewhat, but I didn’t think it would matter much. Still, I stood up for a better view.
The improved angle didn’t change my empty-handed outcome. Standing allowed me to rotate more freely; I kept my hand holding the Flashlight steady while slowly turning my body to move the beam.
After rotating about sixty percent, I looked at Jack and asked, "Do you think we've moved away from the cave entrance and that wall?"
There was nothing on the Ground—not even a pebble. Likewise, I couldn’t see either the cave entrance or that stone wall we had left behind. This didn’t surprise me; I had really pushed myself to get away from there. If I had fatty liver disease, this journey would surely have burned it off. It was only natural that we were far from that cave entrance now.
"No," Jack shook his head, looking up at me. "Did you run in a straight line? You've been leading us all along; you should know best."
I blinked.
"Of course! My sense of direction is top-notch, and there are no obstacles here preventing me from changing course; I've been running straight toward that protruding thing."
"But," Jack said as he struggled to stand on one leg, pointing in a direction, "where is it?"
This time, Jack clearly pointed in a direction. I had just woken from a deep sleep. Without any reference points, it was impossible to determine my current orientation. However, seeing Jack's confident demeanor, he seemed quite sure of himself. Yet, as I received this clear direction, another question arose in my mind. How could Fatty be lost when we had such a clear path ahead?
Our goal was that protruding object. Aside from that, there were no other clear targets here, except for the option to turn back to that passage. But returning to that passage was no longer an option for survival. When Heimanluo fell, this space had become fraught with danger; going back through that passage would be tantamount to walking into death.
My flashlight and eyes turned towards the direction Jack was pointing. All around us was darkness and an endless void, and this direction was no exception.
I thought carefully. When I first saw that protruding object, its outline had been vague, but visually it felt like it was quite large. In other words, that object must be far away from us. What puzzled me most now was how far I had run.
If I were unburdened or lightly loaded, I could judge the distance I had run by exhausting myself. But carrying Jack made it impossible for me to gauge this distance; even guessing felt difficult.
I adjusted the flashlight several times and changed its angle of illumination but found no target. I could only express my confusion: “That thing is far away; we haven’t reached it yet.”
“We’ve also run quite a distance,” Fatty interjected while sitting on the ground.
However, he neither looked up nor glanced in the direction my flashlight was illuminating; his tone was more dismal than anything else.
“Do you know the saying about running towards a mountain only to tire out your horse? As long as we’re heading in the right direction, we’ll get there eventually. Don’t be so pessimistic. Fatty, your attitude is problematic!” I concluded my statement with a loud reprimand, hoping to uplift him or at least spark some interest in banter. He seemed too gloomy.
“How far do you think we are from our destination? That protruding object,” Fatty did not respond to me; instead, Jack took over the conversation.
I pondered for a moment: “Our lighting isn’t sufficient; if it were better, we should be able to see its true form clearly by now.”
Then I shook my flashlight. “Are you sure this direction is both where I ran and where that protruding object exists?”
“You have clear answers to both of those questions. Yes.”
“So certain?” I nodded, a hint of smugness appearing on my face. “My sense of direction is impressive, isn’t it? You can’t envy that.”
But then a new question arose in my mind. “How do you know this direction is correct? Is your sense of direction better than mine? Or is the compass working well here?”
Jack shook his head. “Neither of those. We’ve proven it.”
“Proven what? Complete your thought.”
"You're the one who interrupted me!" Jack frowned, pointing at the ground. "This line shows the direction we came from, and this one points to that protrusion."
It was then that I noticed two white marks scratched into the ground with a hard object: one straight line with an arrow indicating direction. The two lines and the direction indicated by the arrows were almost identical.
My brows knitted together, and I looked at Jack with a clear question in my eyes. I felt increasingly confused and uneasy. How could they prove that my direction was correct?
"We threw a flare," Jack said, exhaling after finishing his sentence.
Damn it. I thought he had some new trick up his sleeve. In an environment where the compass was useless, I really couldn't think of any other way to determine direction—unless he had my incredible sense of direction.
"But that protrusion is still there."
Jack's seemingly normal statement sent chills down my spine. His tone was filled with disappointment and despair. (To Be Continued...)
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