The instant Cyril saw the strange, viscous black liquid beneath that strip-like, drooping skin, his thoughts froze. For no reason at all, a ferocious, anguished, sinister howl filled with malice rang out in his mind.
This voice was like countless tiny, invisible mouths, constantly gnawing at his Spirit Body.
Beneath his pure white, outspread wings, black spots kept appearing on Cyril's indistinct humanoid form, which was composed of dazzling starlight and countless transparent, wing-shaped membranes.
But they were quickly assimilated by the dazzling starlight, then vanished.
Each time a black spot disappeared, more knowledge appeared in Cyril's mind.
Some of it consisted of strange tricks, like picking locks with wire or digging tunnels with a spoon. Some of it was methods for cursing people with things like blood and hair. There were even Potion formulas for "Prisoner" and "Lunatic."
As the silent stalemate continued, the air around them grew viscous, and Spirituality slowed until it was nearly "frozen."
The soil beneath their feet and the weeds and shrubs around them were all covered in a layer of dazzling, sticky liquid that constantly bloomed with starlight. Strange things began growing from it, too.
There were blood vessels as fine as a web, hideous eyeballs, and tongues lined with sharp teeth...
They usually burst as soon as they appeared, leaving behind nothing but puddles of viscous liquid like dazzling ink.
In just a few seconds, the once-green clearing had become a toppled paint box.
Soon, the wings formed from clusters of countless pure white, illusory feathers vanished, and Cyril's appearance returned to normal. He immediately looked away from the already half-lost-control "Marionette."
A hazy book slowly turning its pages appeared in his eyes.
"I came, I saw, I recorded."
As the incantation appeared, he reached out and dragged a sharp, sturdy, heavy,