Kloz sprawled atop the Meat Mountain.
The Meat Mountain was where the living flesh layer was thickest and densest. It rose from the ground hundreds of meters high, like an enormous grave.
Kloz's body was embedded at the very summit of the Meat Mountain—a gigantic mass of flesh dozens of meters tall, with no fixed shape, like a heap of meat piled together at random.
But those chunks of flesh were alive. They constantly multiplied, split, and fused. New flesh grew from old flesh, while old flesh festered into pus. The pus seeped into the living flesh layer and became new flesh once more.
His body was covered in warped tumors and festering cracks. The tumors varied in size; the large ones were like human heads, while the small ones resembled grapes.
The cracks ranged from deep to shallow. Through the deep ones, dark-red muscle fibers could be seen, while the shallow ones were merely grooves in the skin. Thick, golden-red drool constantly seeped from the cracks, flowing down his body and dripping onto the Meat Mountain, punching tiny pits into it.
That drool was corrosive, but the Meat Mountain did not fear corrosion, because it was itself rotten flesh.
More than a hundred huge fanged maws grew across his body. They were not mouths, but organs made purely for feeding. Some were on his front, some on his sides, and some on his back.
Each enormous maw constantly opened and closed, opened and closed, as though chewing on something invisible.
The edges of those maws were packed with countless sharp teeth—not one row, but many rows, razor-sharp and interlocked like saw teeth.
Whenever the maws opened, dark-red throats could be seen within. Their depths resembled bottomless pits, with no end in sight.
His body was also embedded with tiny