Chapter 7 - Mystics presence intensifies

Chapter 7 - Mystics' Presence Intensifies

The Golden Field

Adam stood in the vast expanse of golden light, watching the YouTube video play on a holographic screen before him. The world had taken the bait, spiraling into chaos over the footage of the dragon. Conversations, theories, and debates flooded the internet, news channels, and government offices. Adam smiled, feeling the weight of his plan slowly tilting in his favor. He closed the video with a flick of his hand.

"Time to field a god now," he murmured, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. "Humanity will now witness the true power of a god."

As the golden light swirled around him, he prepared for the next phase, confident that the world was on the brink of transformation—one that only he would control.

---

-Unnamed Cargo Ship, Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean-

Below the night sky, the waves gently lapped against the hull of an unnamed cargo ship. Inside, Mateo and Dante were on break, leaning against the railing while discussing the viral video of the dragon.

"You think it's real?" Dante asked, taking a drag from his cigarette. "I mean, it looked too...real to be CGI. What about you, Mateo?"

Mateo, always the skeptic, shrugged. "I don't know, man. People have been fooled by less. Could be Hollywood, could be a prank. But I'll tell you one thing—it's making everyone talk. Governments are quiet, and that's what's suspicious."

Suddenly, Mateo froze mid-sentence, his eyes drifting toward the starboard side of the ship. His face went pale, and beads of sweat formed on his brow. His hand instinctively went to the small cross hanging around his neck. He gripped it tightly.

"Mateo?" Dante's voice cracked with concern as he saw his friend's strange reaction. "What's wrong?"

"I...I don't know," Mateo whispered, his voice trembling. "Something's...off. I feel it. It's like a chill, deep inside. I can't explain it." He clutched his cross even harder, his knuckles whitening.

Before Dante could respond, a sudden flash of green light erupted from the sea, momentarily blinding them. The ship groaned, as if protesting some unseen force. The fog rolled in with unnatural speed, thick and swirling with an eerie greenish hue. Mateo's heart raced. His instincts screamed danger. He began muttering prayers under his breath.

Dante, confused and scared, felt his chest tighten as an overwhelming coldness seeped into him. The world around them seemed to dissolve into the fog, as if the sea itself was being swallowed. He fumbled for his phone, shaking as he started recording. His fingers barely worked, but he wanted proof—proof of what, he didn't know.

The fog was unlike anything they had ever seen—thick, green-tinted, and suffocating. It crawled along the deck, making everything feel alien. "This...this isn't right," Dante muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He spun around and bolted toward the captain's quarters, Mateo following close behind.

They burst into the bridge—the control center of the ship—panting and wide-eyed. The crew inside was huddled around the navigation equipment, their faces pale. 

"What's happening?" Mateo asked, his voice frantic as he looked at the captain. 

The captain's face was stony, but his eyes were filled with disbelief. "The navigation's gone haywire," he muttered, pointing to the compass. Mateo and Dante followed his gaze. The compass was spinning wildly, its needle unable to find north. Every screen showed static or errors, as if they were completely disconnected from the outside world. 

"It's like the ocean...the whole world...is lost," one of the crew members whispered.

Suddenly, a loud creaking noise reverberated through the ship, sending chills down everyone's spines. The crew rushed to the windows on the starboard side, hoping to get a glimpse of what caused it. What they saw made their blood run cold.

The waters beneath the ship were glowing a sickly green. But that wasn't the most terrifying sight.

Something was swimming alongside the ship.

Its shape was massive, barely visible beneath the glowing water. It moved with unnatural speed, a shadow of something ancient and terrible. The crew's breath caught in their throats. They couldn't tell what it was, but whatever it was, it was far too large to be a whale or any known sea creature.

Dante stumbled backward, his phone still recording, his hand shaking violently. "What...what the hell is that?"

The captain gripped the wheel, trying to keep control, but his hands trembled. "We're not alone," he muttered darkly, more to himself than anyone else.

As the fog thickened and the shadow below them swirled through the glowing waters, Mateo prayed harder, gripping his cross until his knuckles turned white.

---

Unnamed Cargo Ship, Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean

The fog continued to thicken, swirling with a faint green hue. The ship creaked ominously, as if some invisible force was pressing against it. Then, without warning, a massive tentacle shot out of the water, towering high into the air, covered in deep scars that looked centuries old. The skin was slick with mucus that glowed a sickly green, dripping down into the sea below. 

The crew stood frozen, their eyes wide with horror as they gawked at the grotesque monstrosity rising before them. 

"GET BACK INSIDE!" the captain's voice rang out, snapping everyone from their daze. He had seen enough to know they were in danger. 

But before the crew could react, the tentacle slammed down onto the deck with the force of a falling mountain. The sound was a deafening crash of metal and bone. Screams filled the air as several crewmembers were crushed beneath the weight of the massive appendage, their bodies reduced to pulp. Green glowing gunk splattered everywhere, oozing like poison across the deck.

The captain, his heart pounding with fear, grabbed the intercom and yelled, "All crew, abandon ship! This is not a drill—get to the lifeboats immediately!"

The call to abandon ship sent a wave of panic through the remaining crew. Men scrambled across the deck, some stumbling as the ship rocked violently from the impact of the tentacle. Mateo, still on his knees, clutched his cross and prayed even harder, his lips moving frantically as though the words alone could save him.

Dante, meanwhile, had his phone out, live-streaming everything. His fingers shook as he held the camera up to the chaos unfolding around him. The video feed captured the wreckage, the monstrous tentacle, the crew screaming, the eerie green fog. His viewers were skyrocketing, but he barely noticed, too focused on recording the unimaginable horror.

The captain, seeing Dante and Mateo still exposed on deck, rushed to them, grabbing both by their collars and pulling them back inside the safety of the bridge. "Get to the boats, now!" he yelled, shoving them toward the exit.

Mateo snapped out of his daze, running toward the back of the ship to evacuate. But Dante stayed put, still filming the madness. His stream was going viral—millions of people across the world were watching in real-time. 

"Dante, get off this ship!" the captain shouted, but the young man didn't respond. He was mesmerized by what he was witnessing. The captain turned back to focus on keeping the ship steady, trying desperately to delay its inevitable destruction so his crew could escape.

Then, a chilling laugh echoed through the bridge.

It was the captain's XO, his second-in-command. The man had gone completely mad. His eyes were wide with delirium, and he began chanting in a language none of them understood, something dark, something ancient. 

"_Iä! Iä! Cthulhu fhtagn!_"

"Awake, O Sleeper, in the deep,

O Great One, rise from dreamless sleep,

The void calls out, the stars align,

Cthulhu rise, break through time."

The XO clawed at his own face, tearing at his skin as he chanted louder, his voice rising in hysteria. Blood dripped from his fingers as he tried to gouge out his eyes, laughing maniacally all the while. The crew in the bridge tackled him, tying him down to stop his self-harm, but his voice never stopped. "_The Great One! The Great One rises!_" he screamed, his voice filled with a terrifying conviction.

Outside, the storm intensified. Lightning flashed across the sky, but it wasn't like any lightning the crew had ever seen. The bolts crackled with a strange, unnatural energy, glowing green like the fog. The air itself seemed to hum with magic, vibrating with an eerie frequency.

As the bridge finally evacuated, the life boats were released into the churning waters below. The crew hurried into them, desperate to escape whatever nightmare had engulfed their ship. They paddled away from the cargo ship as fast as they could, but not before one final look back.

It was Dante who pointed first, his phone still recording. "Look," he whispered, his voice shaking. "The Great Old Ones…"

The remaining crew turned their heads and immediately regretted it. Emerging from the glowing waters was something beyond comprehension—an enormous, otherworldly form, moving beneath the waves with an ancient power that sent a cold chill down their spines.

Immediately, everyone shielded their eyes, as if even glimpsing the thing would drive them mad. Several crew members began muttering incoherently, others chanting like the XO had, as if they had all been touched by the same madness. 

The only sounds were the roars of the beast in the water and the delirious chants of the crew members, who had lost their sanity to the presence of the Great Old One. Time seemed to stretch, the seconds dragging on like days.

And then, as suddenly as it began, the sea calmed.

The fog lifted, the storm dissipated, and the waters returned to their normal state, as though nothing had happened. But the cargo ship was gone, consumed by whatever horror had risen from the depths.

The survivors floated in their lifeboats, dazed and trembling, unable to speak. The only evidence of what had transpired were the lifeboats themselves and the disjointed, muttered ramblings of those who had witnessed the impossible.

Dante, shaking, looked at his phone. His stream had over 1 billion viewers. His heart raced as he realized the magnitude of what he had broadcasted to the world.

In a final act, he turned his phone around, capturing a 360-degree panorama of the crew—broken, haunted by what they had seen—and the empty sea, before cutting the stream.

The world was going to go mad.