Dylan lay on his back within the ring of incantations at the center of the Magic Array.
His hands were folded over his chest, his posture so peaceful that he resembled a mummy freshly dug out of a pyramid after lying buried for thousands of years.
The last traces of color in his skin were slowly fading away.
Once the color vanished, his flesh began to shrivel as well. His once-firm contours collapsed inch by inch, as though something invisible were siphoning away the life force beneath them bit by bit. The process was not fast, but it was thorough, like a flower that had been away from the soil for too long, silently withering away.
At the same time.
Along the edge of the Magic Array, slender crimson blades of grass pushed up through the ground, as if urged forth by some hidden force. Their stems and leaves trembled faintly, rising and falling slowly and neatly in the wind.
A low field of red grass quietly spread around Dylan's body. Everyone could clearly sense that he was being slowly consumed by something that did not belong to the living.
A chilly aura seeped out from the red grass.
"It's a little cold."
Fatty Xin pulled his robe tighter around himself and muttered, hesitating over whether to take out another donut. But out of respect for the dead—especially Dylan, who was dying in his place—he ultimately chose not to eat.
"His blood energy is being transferred through the Magic Array and turned into that red grass."
Xiao Xiao explained softly, both to the others and to Dylan lying in the Magic Array, "We cannot hold even the slightest hope when facing death—even the death of a Small World. After all, quite a few wizard souls are claimed by the deaths