And under Lynn's stunned gaze...
He saw the space before him slowly split open. An utterly frigid surge of ghostly aura and curse energy instantly swept into the room like a raging tide, becoming a gale.
Even the overwhelming malice of a death omen rank being enveloped the entire outpost in an instant, making every Night Doctor's hair stand on end as they instinctively felt waves of cold.
The malice, filled with ghostly wails and howls, sent the entire room rattling in the wind.
The lights began to flicker. Bloody handprints appeared one after another on the walls, and the curtains danced wildly. All of these supernatural phenomena had arisen from that intensely concentrated ghostly aura.
But Lynn did not move.
He stared at that pitch-black rift in space.
For he sensed no hostility in that boundless malice and ghostly aura. Instead, it was like a trace of softness wrapped beneath layers of thorns.
Slowly.
A small, pale hand struggled out of the rift.
Lynn shuddered all over.
For he could clearly see countless black threads drawn taut around that little hand, as though something clung to her, constantly dragging her backward.
He could even clearly see the dense cracks covering her skin.
And amid that billowing black mist, the little hand settled on his cheek, with difficulty yet gently, filled with affection and relief. It was as though she had crossed an immeasurable distance just to see him once.
Cold.
An unbearably cold little hand.
"Thank goodness..."
A little girl's voice, filled with relief, came from the spatial rift surging with black mist.
Yet the instant Lynn tried to speak, the countless black threads around that little hand suddenly tightened, violently wrenching it back in an instant.
Even the rumbling ghostly aura that had escaped was swept up by