The sudden fog spread like a living thing, covering the entire area around the Sanye Building.
Within the thin mist, faint Rainbow Light invisible to the naked eye intertwined, creating a dreamlike scene. Yet the fog made Francisco, standing in the square, shudder with dread.
Within the mist, his accordion playing stalled for an instant as he saw wisps of translucent, dreamlike tentacles drift past his eyes.
They extended from the deepest reaches of the fog.
Then stretched away into the distance.
Strand by strand, wisp by wisp, bit by bit, their overwhelming numbers gathered together and became a tide.
What the hell was this?
Wild Grass.
The Source Matter creature known as "Wild Grass" rapidly took root, sprouted, and grew, filling the area and swiftly altering its depth.
The melody from Francis's accordion subtly changed.
Instinctively, he held his breath.
Concealing his presence.
Several faces silently emerged from the air around him. They opened their mouths and blew into the mist, exhaling streams of air that seemed casually sketched into shape.
Abstract and bizarre.
Four Directions Wind.
It was a work Giselle had created before her departure. In classical oil paintings, faces and the streams blown from their mouths symbolized the four directions. From that foundation came variants such as the winds of eight, twelve, and twenty-four directions.
Now, the currents symbolizing the four directions intertwined and enveloped Francisco, silently warping reality and space, as though they had stolen the place where he stood from reality itself and formed a vacuum domain that did not exist.
It was not merely an exploitation of visual illusion, but a bizarre phenomenon akin to replacing reality itself, hiding him behind a disguise.
He quietly peered into the distance.
Then he saw clusters of tentacles silently spreading out before suddenly plunging into the