"Ah ha, is this another one of your masterpieces?"
Hisoka stood in the middle of a pool of blood, his face streaked with it as he tossed an unidentified person's head in his hand. Smiling, he said, "Seriously, have you considered trying a different style?"
His gaze traveled over the other person, who was dripping with blood yet remained unstained. With the purest malice, Hisoka smiled like a clown's mask. "A violent beauty is still a beauty."
Across from him, Coleman had somehow already shed his red dress and changed into a white suit, a cigar clamped between his lips.
He wiped his spotless hands with a handkerchief, raised a brow, and chuckled. "Isn't it beautiful?"
As he spoke, Coleman turned around and revealed the scenery behind him.
It was still that familiar white, woven from spider silk.
Only, compared to its former savage beauty, this time, Coleman had clearly put a great deal of thought into it.
Fine white threads were branded throughout every corner of the forest like inscriptions.
They formed unique symbols, like the writing of some civilization.
Yet upon closer inspection, they seemed like nothing more than children's scribbles, impossible to make sense of.
The deeper one went, the more red began to spread.
Ditches woven from spider silk absorbed the crimson river flowing from the center like sponges.
Under the faint moonlight, the eye was drawn deeper into the forest.
Chaotic, yet possessing a strange sort of order.
Broken walls and ruins stood everywhere, with dismembered bodies casually strewn about.
Shredded cloth and organs scattered across the ground made it appear filthy and foul.
But farther in, one would discover that the ground within a one-meter radius at the very center was astonishingly clean and tidy.
A white light shone down from above.
Beneath that