Warlock of Oceans: My Poseidon System-Chapter 368: 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.

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Surrounding the incredibly dilapidated 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 once-lush vegetation of the garden was nowhere to be found in this forsaken land. Instead, the ground was blanketed in a thick, dark fog that clung to the dirt and stone like the ghostly remnants of forgotten souls. Even the sky above seemed darker, the endless dome of the floor’s canopy giving way to a swirling void of black clouds.

Athena stopped beside Cyrus, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the church. "No living creature comes here," she said softly, her voice echoing in the eerie stillness. "This place is shrouded in death. It’s said that even the toads, as monstrous as they are, fear whatever lies within those walls."

Cyrus stepped closer to the church, his curiosity piqued despite the foreboding atmosphere. His breath misted in the air as the temperature around the church seemed to drop even further, a chill running down his spine.

"This church... what happened here?" Cyrus asked, his voice low as he took in the unsettling scene before him.

Athena hesitated for a moment before responding. "Some say it was once a sanctuary, a place of worship for forgotten gods. Others believe it was a site of terrible rituals. Whatever the truth, it’s clear that the energy here is tainted. It’s as if the very air is poisoned by the corruption that seeped into the land long ago."

As they stood before the entrance, Cyrus felt an overwhelming sense of unease wash over him. The ground surrounding the church seemed devoid of life, and the very air was thick with an oppressive weight. The stillness was unnerving—no sound of wind, no rustle of leaves, no croak from the toads. Just silence.

And death.

Not a single creature dared venture too close as if even the monsters that inhabited this floor respected the boundaries of whatever dark force resided in the decaying structure.

Cyrus’s gaze remained fixed on the dilapidated doors of the church, his mind racing. This place, despite its ominous aura, was calling to him in some strange way. His instincts, however, screamed caution. Something powerful lurked within these walls, something that likely held the key to unlocking deeper truths within the tower itself.

Athena remained quiet, her eyes flicking between Cyrus and the church as if gauging his reaction. "We should be careful," she said finally. "This place isn’t like the rest of the floor. It harbors something... far more dangerous."

Cyrus nodded but didn’t respond, his curiosity getting the better of him as his eyes traced the cracks along the ancient stone walls. The decay was so profound that even the land surrounding the church seemed to wither away as if the church itself was slowly draining the life from everything around it.

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. Explore hidden tales at novelbuddy

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.

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.