It was the golden hour. The sun was starting to settle in the horizon.
In the middle of the village square were many villagers covered in bandages.
Their bandages covered their infected areas, but it did not stop the spreading plague.
Thousands upon thousands of tiny black holes were on the villagers' surface and—
"Wait! Stop! Don't explain further!"
Lith shoved a bunch of grapes in his wife's mouth and stopped her from speaking.
Even though he did not have trypophobia, he felt his spine tingle from the vivid imagination. His comprehension skills were otherworldly, to the point where he could picture everything the person in front was saying to the finest details.
It was a good thing, but also a curse for times like these.
