They were pale and bloated, black mucus dripping from their fingertips as they all gripped the edge of the Flesh-Weaving Machine, as though every finger had adhered to it.
On the backs of their arms, the swollen skin twisted and shifted continuously, like clusters of ever-changing faces contorted in pain.
Meanwhile.
Ash's entire body was covered in bizarre patterns. A massive mass of black shadow billowed from his body, countless faces floating above it.
Every face wore a struggling expression and let out eerie laughter, like tens of millions of locusts beating their wings at once.
That laughter spread in every direction. Wherever it passed, the ground split apart, asphalt roads boiled, and cars and concrete wreckage were twisted by invisible giant hands.
Clusters of black arms that seemed to carry cracks within them coiled around the Flesh-Weaving Machine, binding it in place.
The sky was blanketed in dark clouds and lightning, the bolts filled with an eerie blackness—a visible, glowing, icy black.
"Hand it. Over!"
The Grudge-Binder's voice came from within the lightning, which then surged into the passage and lashed against the rotten giant arm.
A black hole appeared in its arm.
Like a miniature black hole, it devoured the giant's rotting flesh. Yet that seemingly soft flesh was actually incomparably resilient.
It resisted the black holes' consumption as well.
The liquid splashed from the rotten giant arm and the mucus on its fingers flowed along the edge of the Flesh-Weaving Machine toward Ash.
It boiled atop his black shadow, seemingly trying to corrupt it in return.
The two sides remained deadlocked.
Meanwhile, evil spirits continuously poured from the evil spirit passage they had opened, entering reality from the world where they resided.
These evil spirits seemed to have received orders.
They set off in several directions in