This face seemed to represent all living creatures.
Any race could find similar traits to their own within it, yet it remained vague and elusive.
Soon after, its eyes opened, still pitch-black as ink, like an abyss.
"Whoosh—"
A strong gust of death swept through, forcing Butcher Maxwell to cling tightly to a nearby post lest he be blown away.
Its first words, however, were not directed at Little Loach: "Come out, all of you."
The Drowned Ghost Princess bubbled from the river, not coming ashore but only revealing her head. Her long black hair covered half of the river's surface.
Her blood-red eyes revealed an unfathomable purity, full of curiosity and slight resentment, as she sized up Little Loach.
Three faint watermarks on her face added an exotic charm.
The Lord of the Skeleton Sea rolled out from all directions and hesitated, not gathering together. The skulls scattered again, leaving only one skull as their representative, grinning with a toothy smile at the dark mist.
