This caused the personalities of these souls to become completely integrated into the badges.
They would attach themselves to whoever used the badges. Ordinary evil ghosts were one thing, but once a demon-level soul had been absorbed by a badge...
Its thoughts would influence the badge.
Even after someone completely absorbed the badge and obtained its memories, they might still become someone else's puppet.
One had to understand one thing:
"Skills" could be transferred.
Moreover, transferred skills would have their flaws filtered out, as though through a sieve.
The only problem was that anyone capable of obtaining a "skill" would experience an enormous increase in strength, making them impossible for others to control.
Nailhead picked up the badge and looked south, muttering, "Everything has converged."
"But there's a saying: strength comes in numbers!"
He suddenly clenched the badge tightly and strode south without hesitation.
"Since joining any faction means having your soul controlled and being treated like a puppet, then this chaotic world has no freedom or beauty at all."
Then he would build a faction that could not be controlled. He would be his own master.
Four hours later, Spencer drove a gray-green pickup truck to a place in Africa. He passed through a rocky cave and arrived in a dark, empty underground space.
Scattered, haphazard buildings had been constructed here, each one barely cobbled together from garbage.
They looked as though they could collapse at any moment.
Their dangerous, horrifying style made them seem like buildings from hell.
This landscape existed because the engineers who had built these structures were evil ghosts from hell.
With Nailhead Spencer's arrival, Grotesque figures instantly flooded out from behind the houses, beneath the ground, atop the rooftops, and every other unexpected place.
They were covered in blood, their appearances marked by the