A wave of unease washed over some prisoners as they closely observed the unfolding spectacle, yearning to comprehend the mysterious events.
In the eyes of a few, a flicker of crimson tinted their vision.
"Please, release me. I'm sorry! I'll leave you alone, I promise," Avalo gasped, struggling for breath as he pleaded with Lucas for mercy.
The iron grip around his throat continued to constrict relentlessly, robbing him of oxygen.
Whenever his gaze met Sadako's lifeless eyes, he saw only an abyss devoid of vitality or emotion—a gaze no living being should possess.
If this continued, she would surely end his life!
Confronted with Avalo's desperate pleas, Lucas remained seated on the floor, legs crossed, an air of indifference about him.
Sadako's fingers persisted in their unyielding grip!
Pop! Avalo's neck seemed to swell like an overinflated balloon, then abruptly burst, splattering thick, dark blood across the surroundings.
His limbs, once engaged in a frantic struggle, now ceased their motions, twitching intermittently for a few fleeting moments before surrendering to stillness.
Sadako released her hold.
Avalo Pizarro's lifeless body slumped to the ground, his eyes wide with a final, haunting expression, while black blood oozed from his seven facial orifices.
What was even more perplexing was the unsettling blue-black hue that marred his entire body, resembling a corpse left to decay for an extended period.
A chilling gust of wind blew through the cell.
Sadako and Hanako gradually retreated, returning to their positions behind Lucas, standing obediently at his side.
In this moment, the once raucous Eternal Hell on the sixth level had fallen eerily silent, devoid of any commotion.
Every violent criminal in attendance was rendered speechless, their disbelief palpable as they beheld the otherworldly figures that accompanied Lucas.
Ultimately, the eyes of all prisoners settled on Lucas, the catalyst for this inexplicable phenomenon.
The word "ghost" echoed relentlessly in their minds, shattering their preconceived notions of reality.
Meanwhile, on another level—specifically, the fourth level, known as Blazing Hell—Magellan found himself ensnared in his daily ritual of excruciating torment.
Within the confines of the bathroom, the relentless grip of his Doku Doku no Mi-induced diarrhea had kept him tethered to the toilet, his body on the brink of exhaustion.
"This can't be!"
All he had wished for was to conclude his business, yet when he reached out, nothing met his touch.
Magellan scratched his head in embarrassment.
'Could there be anything more unfortunate than finding yourself in need of toilet paper without any at hand?'
"Is there anyone out there? I need toilet paper!" he called out, his voice carrying a hint of desperation, hoping that nearby Marines would hear his plea.
Given the noxious poison he emitted during this ritual, he never anticipated that anyone would heed his request and deliver toilet paper.
Footsteps were suddenly heard and a roll of toilet paper was passed through the gap beneath the bathroom door.
"Thank you," Magellan said, accepting the roll. However, as he prepared to tend to himself, he abruptly froze, his eyes widening in astonishment.
A sudden realization struck him.
The hand that had passed the toilet paper through was notably small and slender—far from that of an adult.
A child's hand?
In this moment, Magellan couldn't help but recall the image of the young girl in a red skirt he had glimpsed earlier in the bathroom's dimly lit corner.
"Could it be that I've ingested so much poison lately that I'm beginning to hallucinate?" Magellan murmured to himself.
Shaking his head, he dismissed such thoughts and proceeded to use the toilet paper to clean himself, refusing to dwell further on the peculiar encounter.