They really had been waiting eagerly.
At that moment, Fu Qian simply sensed the ripples left by his old friend in silence. He didn't deliver a finishing blow.
It had been a little brutal, but he didn't think the Messenger was so badly injured that he'd die and his soul vanish.
Right now, the one who seemed worth worrying about was himself.
Even without Supernatural Perception, he could tell that the fog pouring out wasn't just a change in the weather.
He'd spent so long as the Nightmare's master, and in his experience, fog had always marked some kind of boundary, with an innate quality that made it impossible to cross.
Not to mention that the scene before him bore an uncanny resemblance to the edge of the school in his first Nightmare Corridor mission.
So if a Cow-Head Sister came crawling out of it the next moment, Fu Qian wouldn't have found it strange at all.
In short, after the Messenger's tirade, the most important result, as far as Fu Qian was concerned, was that he was trapped solidly and wouldn't be getting out anytime soon.
Of course, an effect this powerful was undoubtedly the result of the prisoners' efforts. The poor Messenger, who'd been put through the wringer, was still playing the role of Tool Person.
As for why Lord Yarakir and the others had changed their attitude so dramatically—why they'd all hidden themselves before, only to suddenly start pleading with him to stay—
It was easy enough to understand: the person they really wanted to invite hadn't arrived.
As he'd suspected, the two Dark Moons could sense each other. The Witch could feel it, but what about their hosts?
The answer seemed to be yes.
They hadn't merely sensed it; they'd reacted at once, hoping to accomplish