In the System Space, black mist churned without end, gathering into an enormous face. Huge eyeballs floated about, and countless tentacles waved.
Starlight blazed brilliantly, its magnificent radiance shifting endlessly.
The two scenes appearing together could not help but call to mind a gathering of ancient gods, yet this was merely the most common sight in the System Space.
"Is there something wrong with the brains of villains in these books? They're clearly about to achieve their goals, yet at the final, most crucial moment, they insist on making a long speech and laying out their entire plan, explaining why they did it and what they wanted, only to let those so-called protagonists turn the tables while barely alive? Are they sick?"
Obviously, if even Blackscale, whose mind had problems, thought someone was sick, then that person was most likely truly sick.
The smile on the black-mist face deepened considerably. Soul Lock seemed to be in quite a good mood. "Maybe it really is as you said. Telling the dead about something after it's done is actually the safest choice, but unfortunately, those authors don't think so."
"They're sick," Blackscale said as if it were only natural.
"Perhaps it's to explain the situation to the readers, or perhaps the villain was designed to be someone with a sick mind from the start. In any case, I don't really like this sort of plot. It inexplicably feels like my intelligence is being dragged down." Soul Lock calmly analyzed the matter.
"Why do so many people still like it?" Blackscale did not understand.
"Because they don't think that much when reading. They don't delve too deeply into whether the plot is reasonable or logical. Even fighting while talking and chatting is considered normal." Soul Lock gave a scornful laugh.
"Normal?"
Blackscale was