Purple patterns spread across the factory's dome, forming a purple sky.
Medala picked up her cigarette again and placed it between her lips.
At that moment, the sphere in the Gaunt Man's hand suddenly paused. He lowered his head to look at Medala and asked in a low voice, "Your soul is beginning to collapse. What did you do?"
"Just a minor side effect." Medala glanced at him and smiled. "I know you want to wear down my will to resist through repeated resistance and suppression, so that the thing in your hand can control me more deeply. But that's all it is. I'm very curious—how much information can you get by controlling a broken soul? How much can it resemble the original person?"
"Was it the tremor from that Angel Rank just now?" The Gaunt Man understood in an instant. Without hesitation, he swiftly pressed the sphere in his hand down toward Medala's forehead.
This was countless times faster than his previous slow advance. In almost an instant, it reached Medala's forehead and touched her skin.
In the end, it did touch skin.
But not the woman's fair cheek. It touched a somewhat aged palm.
"What?!" The Gaunt Man stared at that palm, momentarily stunned.
Before he could react, however, immense force came from the palm. Caught off guard, he had the sphere snatched straight from his hand by that aged palm.
"Interesting." He Ao looked at the translucent sphere in his hand, raised it slightly above his head, and examined the Purple Mist inside. "This thing is interesting."
At that instant, the runes covering the entire space began to flicker violently, and the Purple Mist within the sphere flickered just as intensely.
Thin strands extended from the mist like dense, fine tentacles, reaching downward toward the sphere's boundary