The people who had lost control of their bodies saw the Old Shoemaker.
They wanted to greet him, but unlike Bearman, Hair Demon, and the Flamefire Brothers, they were mere ordinary people. They could not even open their mouths.
They could only submit to the Old Shoemaker's control.
"The ball is about to begin."
"Go! Go!"
"Find yourselves a dance partner!"
As the Old Shoemaker spoke, he waved his hand. The controlled civilians rushed out into the street, helplessly destroying everything they saw.
Flames rose from the buildings.
They brought a thick wash of black to the bright afternoon.
Black smoke billowed, rising high into the sky.
The Old Shoemaker watched the smoke.
Then he froze.
The smoke was gathering in the air. The sunny afternoon rapidly turned pitch-black, and a massive hand that seemed one with heaven and earth slammed straight down.
It was as though...
The sky had collapsed.
The agility the Old Shoemaker prided himself on was useless.
The secret arts that gave the Old Shoemaker such confidence were useless.
The sky itself had fallen.
Mortals were like ants.
The Old Shoemaker was merely a stronger ant.
Boom!
The massive hand pressed down on him.
It engulfed all the people he controlled around him.
Not a single one was left out.
Then they were crushed to dust.
It hurt!
Agony!
Pain from deep within his marrow and his soul assailed the Old Shoemaker in waves, making his entire body shudder and tremble uncontrollably. Finally-
Pfft!
He spat out a mouthful of blood.
It splashed onto the shoe in his hand.
The shoe that should have been finished, but was not.
The blood was glaring.
Even chilling.
The Old Shoemaker shakily raised his head and looked at the customer seated opposite him.
A black Ravenfeather Cloak, a youthful