Beneath the high-hanging Crimson Moon, a soft, dreamlike veil of illusory black gauze quietly descended, tranquil and profound, enveloping the building occupied by the Workers' Mutual Aid Association.
From outside, the entire building seemed to dim, losing its sense of presence.
As the illusory black "veil" fell, Cyril sensed an indistinct gaze carrying a hint of scrutiny sweep over him.
Hmm? He raised his head thoughtfully, his gaze passing over the high-hanging Crimson Moon. At that moment, a dark cloud drifted by, obscuring the moon, which was only a shallow arc, and deepening the night upon the ground.
Inside the association, Botis abruptly awoke from his dream on a bed covered in black velvet carpeting. He panted heavily, his body trembling slightly.
He had just had a nightmare. In it, he had fallen into a soundless, absolute darkness, where the Box of the Great Old Ones under his control went out of control and swallowed him whole.
Huff...
After drawing in a breath and slowly exhaling, he reached into the void and pulled out a crystal-clear Crystal Ball. A dazzling starry sky was reflected in his deep eyes.
"Spiritual Intuition Warning!"
"Malice directed at me is brewing..."
After murmuring for a while, he suddenly looked toward the window, whose curtains were tightly drawn. The East District was a little too quiet tonight.
"No, the malice has already struck!"
Suddenly, one illusory door after another appeared in his deep blue eyes, layered atop each other.
At the same time, the roar of violent wind sounded beside his ears, seeming to come from reality while also seeming to originate from illusion.
The wind carried an extremely majestic, irresistible will, blowing in from every direction and sweeping over his body, consciousness, and mind.
Botis's body, which had just turned incorporeal, rapidly solidified again.