The three tentacles behind her flailed wildly, like three enraged giant pythons.
Her body grew taller as well.
She had originally been only slightly taller than an ordinary person, but now her body began to swell as though inflated. Her shoulders broadened, her waist thickened, and her legs lengthened. Her clothes had long since torn apart, scraps hanging from her body and exposing the deformed flesh beneath.
She stood at the bottom of the rift like a crooked tower, twice as tall as before.
Darkness, Pestilence, and the Creation Fragment had twisted together, becoming a grotesque aberrant Dark Mother monster.
Her power had surged by an unknown number of times, but her mind had been gnawed to pieces by Pestilence.
Her head was filled with sounds—the rustling of mycelium growing, like countless insects crawling.
The rumbling of dark energy churning, like distant thunder.
The buzzing of the Creation Fragment struggling, like bees in flight. These sounds blended together and crashed about inside her head. She could no longer tell what was real and what was false, what was an enemy and what was herself.
She raised her head and looked at the sky above the rift.
Those mismatched red and yellow eyes had no focus, like two dried-up wells. She opened her mouth as though to say something, but only an indistinct hiss emerged from her throat.
The will of this avatar had actually been corrupted.
When darkness was corrupted, no one knew what kind of thing would be born.
Then she moved.
Her body sprang upward like a toy released from a spring, while those tentacles shot forward at once, stabbing into the rift walls.
The rock wall was pierced through, and shattered stones flew everywhere.
Her claws gripped the rock, slicing through it as though it were tofu.