Warlock of Oceans: My Poseidon System

Chapter 367 Second Floor: The Gaurdian of Autumn Toads (4)

In a final, chaotic rush, the remaining toads charged at him all at once, hoping to overwhelm him in a last-ditch effort. Cyrus's eyes narrowed, and with a burst of speed, he darted through them, dodging their lunges and swinging his blade in wide, deadly arcs. One by one, the toads fell, their screeches fading into gurgling croaks as their bodies collapsed into the muck.

Within moments, the battlefield was still. The once-formidable pack of Autumn Toads lay in heaps around him, their twisted bodies dissolving into the dark, oily ground. Cyrus stood in the center of the carnage, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with the exertion of the fight.

Despite the blood and muck coating the ground around him, he felt exhilarated. He had uncovered the secret of their strength and overcome it with his own. With a final glance at the fallen toads, he sheathed his aetheric sword, the glow of its energy fading as it disappeared from view.

Athena, who had been watching the fight from a distance, approached him, her expression unreadable. "Well done," she said softly, though there was a note of something else in her voice—perhaps surprise, perhaps approval.

Cyrus wiped the sweat from his brow and nodded, a satisfied smirk on his face. The Autumn Toads, while tough in a group, had proven no match for him. But he knew that this was just the beginning. The tower held far greater challenges, and he was ready to face them.

As Cyrus and Athena continued their trek through the sprawling expanse of the Garden of Autumn Toads, the atmosphere grew heavier, darker. The once vibrant, albeit grotesque, clusters of toads seemed to fade from view as they ventured deeper into the heart of the second floor. Cyrus dispatched several more packs of the foul creatures with ease, his aetheric sword cutting through their ranks like a hot knife through butter. Yet, even as the toads fell, something about the area began to shift.

The rich autumn colors of the foliage—crimson leaves and amber grasses—faded into ashen gray, replaced by barren trees and crumbling rocks. The air, thick with the stagnant stench of decay, felt colder, biting at the skin. The light that filtered through the canopy overhead seemed duller, casting long, oppressive shadows.

As they pushed forward, a looming structure appeared on the horizon, shrouded in a thick fog that seemed to emanate from the very ground itself. The sight stopped Cyrus in his tracks. A church—large, ominous, and in complete ruin—stood before them, its towering spires broken and jagged like the skeletal remains of some long-forgotten beast. The building's once grand facade was now a crumbling ruin, the stone walls chipped and cracked, overrun by creeping vines and blackened moss.

The front doors, massive and weathered, hung crookedly from rusted hinges, one of them barely attached, creaking ominously with the slightest breeze. Large stained-glass windows, once likely vibrant with holy depictions, were shattered, their jagged remnants glinting in the faint light. What remained of the glass was stained with grime, obscuring any view into the hollow, forsaken interior.

Surrounding the church was an unsettling scene of death and decay. The earth was blackened and lifeless, the ground cracked and dry as if it had been scorched by something unnatural. Rotting carcasses of smaller creatures littered the area, their remains picked clean by whatever scavengers dared come close, though not a single toad ventured near this place. The few that roamed close gave it a wide berth, as if instinctively sensing the malice that permeated the ground.

The entrance loomed ahead, beckoning like the gaping maw of some dormant beast. He took a slow, deliberate step forward.

"So what I'm hearing is, you won't tell me what's inside?" Cyrus nervously chuckled.

"It'll be better to find out on your own," Athena smiled back.

Cyrus and Athena stepped cautiously through the massive, creaking doors of the church, their footsteps echoing faintly in the cavernous space. The interior of the church was just as dilapidated as its exterior. The stone walls, once grand and imposing, had crumbled in places, leaving gaping holes that allowed rays of sunlight to stream in from the outside. These beams of light cast haunting, almost ethereal patterns across the dusty floor, highlighting the decay and disrepair that had consumed the sacred structure.

Massive stone pillars lined the sides of the long nave, though several had collapsed, littering the ground with debris. The few that remained upright were cracked, their once smooth surfaces marred by the passage of time. Weeds and vines had found their way inside, curling around the fallen stone, reclaiming the space that had long been abandoned. The air inside the church was heavy, thick with the scent of rot and decay, as if the very essence of the place had been corrupted over time.

As Cyrus and Athena moved deeper into the church, their eyes were drawn to the far end of the room where a large altar stood. The altar, which had likely once been a place of reverence, was now covered in dust and grime. Its carvings were faded and broken, but they still held a faint echo of the religious importance they once possessed. Behind it, towering windows of shattered stained glass let in fractured beams of light, casting jagged reflections across the altar.

But it wasn't the altar itself that drew their attention—it was the massive creature that sat beside it.

The creature was a grotesque parody of the toads they had encountered outside, but this one was different—larger, stronger, more monstrous. It sat with its legs crossed, hunched over, its large, muscular arms resting on its knees. Its leathery skin, a sickly mix of green and brown, glistened faintly in the dim light. The creature's head was hunched, massive jaws slack as it snored lightly in its sleep.

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Unlike the other toads, this one had a more humanoid form. Its torso was broad and muscular, covered in patches of rough, warty skin. Its limbs, while still toad-like, were thick and powerful, capable of delivering crushing blows. But what was truly menacing was the longsword it held in its grip—a weapon that dwarfed the creature itself. The sword's blade was tarnished and covered in grime, yet its sheer size made it a terrifying weapon. If the creature were to swing it in this enclosed space, there was no doubt it could tear the entire church down in mere moments.