Corrosion.
This word was utterly insufficient to describe the sensation currently gripping the Old Welder.
It felt more like being immersed in a tsunami composed of billions of hungry, microscopic vermin. Viscous, heavy, carrying an ineffable sliminess and a scalding heat. This "heat" was not mere warmth; it was the ultimate sensory alarm transmitted to the brain as highly active, acidic corrosive matter directly gnawed away at flesh and metal. Deep greens and dark purples, mixed with thick black sludge, formed a churning, turbulent medium that filled the entire field of vision. Air was completely nonexistent; every neurotic, spasmodic gasp dragged a toxic fog thick with the stench of heavy blood and rotting metal—rich in creep-secreted liquefied metal enzymes—into his nasal cavity and throat. It instantly burned his mucous membranes, triggering a fit of asphyxiating coughs that were forcibly choked back by even more viscous sludge!
Chapter 70