When faced with danger, a rational person always had to first identify the source of the danger.
Snake Tongue was no different.
Her attention had first... and all along, been focused on the notebook: the state of its invisible flames did indeed seem as though it had opened some kind of passage, as though a Demon might crawl out of it at any moment.
But soon, her actual perception diverged from her expectations.
Though the notebook's "invisible burning" was visually stimulating, no tangible power was penetrating through it. Even the previous "hissing," it seemed, had not come from the notebook.
She shifted her gaze and perception:
What was truly filling the surrounding air with "toxins," what was still radiating alien energy at this moment, was clearly beside the notebook...
Snake Tongue's mind tightened. Her pupils dilated instinctively, and the nature of her vision changed. In her eyes, the normal world began to warp and deform. The edges of things sprouted countless burrs and fragments, along with patterns everywhere, stretching wantonly, followed by crazing cracks that could drive one mad.
The cracks kept peeling apart, exposing ugly, moldy inner layers and even more horrific new "realities," before repeating the process.
It was like the effects of the worst hallucinogen, stripping all things of beauty, even stripping away one's expectations of the world, leaving behind only things sickening enough to make one retch.
That vision swept across a vast stretch of reality around the cargo ship in an instant, then naturally focused on the other person on deck... Ronan, who was holding a single page and likewise staring at the burning notebook.
He frowned—he was so clear and vivid. Though somewhat distorted as well, he could still fit within the aesthetic range of a normal person:
"Don't use that on me!"
Ronan,