"Is this some kind of a ghost party?" asked Aza'zel, finding the whole spectacle ridiculous.
The remnant souls had somehow learned to constitute substantial bodies from the overflowing abyssal energy, and each of them was holding onto a cup made of rock or granite and using it to drink the blood flowing into the 10th level from the vast area of the formation.
They weren't screaming their lungs out anymore, but rather, they were laughing and chatting each other up. Some of them would quarrel when a particularly rich drop of blood essence with rich bloodline energy flowed through the formation, but their physical bodies were like smoke, almost impossible to harm.
Some of the remnant souls had absorbed so much blood essence that they'd grown into skeleton soldiers. Pitch-black skeletons, wreathed in wretched evil miasma like a flowing gown of darkness and disease, walked around with their smooth skulls and hollow eye sockets.
