The Cathedral of San Gimignano is located on the Seven Hills.
This is the source of the disaster, the core of endless flames and death. Like a constantly collapsing vortex, it drags countless lives into its dark and deep abyss.
Lawrence walked among the dilapidated streets and strolled around the burning ruins of St. Naro Cathedral. He could feel the erosion rolling like a tide. Their intensity was terrifying, but the wonderful thing was that after reaching a peak, everything became quiet.
Yes, silence, absolute dead silence.
Under this immeasurable erosion, all life will wither, and what will be left is a quiet desolation, just like a storm roaring on the sea. This is the eye of the storm, and the terrifying silence permeates this land.
“It’s all ruined.”
Lawrence's voice was full of nostalgia as he casually kicked the broken sculpture away.
Apart from its religious elements, the Cathedral of San Gimignano is also a great work of art. Countless craftsmen have carved and painted along the lines of this church over hundreds of years. This church preserves the noble and holy artistic pursuits of mankind, but now it has become filthy and entangled with fireworks.
Looking down at the broken face, Lawrence raised his foot and crushed the stone sculpture completely, leaving only gray powder on the ground.
Lawrence had no interest in art.
"I think you must be very sad, right? After all, most of the things left here were completed with your funding," Lawrence missed his old friend, and then there was a helpless smile in his voice, "Fortunately, you are dead and can't see these."
He leisurely drew out a spiked sword, with the tip of the sword hanging to the ground. As Lawrence moved forward, a shallow scratch was left on the ground, cutting through the dust and gravel like a scar engraved on the earth.
He walked towards the Cathedral of St. Naro, and as the distance got closer, the spiked sword in his hand began to tremble slightly.
What was shaking was not the hand holding the sword, but the ground beneath his feet. Lawrence could feel the resistance coming from the sword, and soon it was like cutting into steel, making it difficult to move at all.
“Has it spread here already?”
Lawrence muttered to himself, exerted force, and raised the sword. The touch of steel was easily torn apart, and large amounts of blood gushed out, gushing out like a small spring.
Blood dripped on Lawrence's body, staining his silver-white iron face into a wild and weird appearance. He lowered his head slightly and saw the flesh and blood squirming under the scar of the earth.
As the spike sword cut through the earth, beneath the broken bricks and stones there was no longer solid soil, but clumps of wriggling flesh and blood. Fine blood vessels meandered like snakes, wrapping the soil and bricks and stones together, like some kind of fungal carpet.
Blood continued to ooze out, but the wounds cut by the spike sword soon healed, and the flesh and blood grew like plants.
Lawrence raised his sword, ready to stab again, when suddenly the ground beneath his feet rose and broke.
The thick scarlet tentacles sprang up, spreading along the bloody carpet and rolling towards Lawrence. Lawrence did not panic, but calmly swung the nail sword and easily tore it apart. In an instant, the tentacles broke into countless pieces, mixed with sticky scarlet liquid and scattered all over the ground.
The earth is alive.