What did he want?
Had he noticed this side?
The more Mister Mo's "cloak" possessed an intense concealing quality, the more penetrating the light shining from his eyes—the windows to his soul—became.
Though they were separated by thousands, even tens of thousands of kilometers, with the boundary between reality and illusion lying between them, at that instant, most of the audience in the Virtual Venue had similar thoughts flash through their minds.
It had nothing to do with Logic. It was simply their immediate instinct.
But the feeling did not last long. Amid the flurry of thoughts, Mister Mo's gaze remained fixed and his body did not move, yet the enormous crimson demon behind him had already taken the most decisive action.
At that moment, the Rotten-Mouth Ape shifted from stillness to motion. The movement was so vast and so swift that its massive body seemed to become fluid, like a wave of light suddenly flowing forth after smashing through a solid barrier.
The murky crimson color concealed much of the light wave's brilliance, yet the elements contained within became increasingly complex. It seemed that violent chemical reactions were occurring both within the blood-red light and between it and the surrounding matter.
The recording feed centered on Captain Jimmy's perspective was instantly contaminated by the bloody light. Halos and blotches of irregular shapes obscured most of the details over there.
"Fuck!"
Several people in the Virtual Venue blurted out the familiar curse.
The problem was that the livestream's terrible quality did not improve because of their swearing. On the contrary, the bloodstains, halos, and blotches continued to spread without restraint, smearing and contaminating their visible field. Before long, the image was nearly impossible to make sense of. Only distorted bloodstains remained, interwoven into twisted, ever-changing patterns that flowed and shifted