He pulled the scent of fresh blood from the bottle, and the shadow immediately adhered to it, merging together.
Then, what was supposed to be a dissipating blood energy took the form of a blood-colored silhouette hanging in mid-air, motionless.
Dylan tried to communicate with it, but the shadow jerked back into the bottle as if frightened.
"It's resisting me, a sign of increasing intelligence. Can you communicate with it?" he asked.
Heine shook his head too.
"It seems to be some kind of jumbled mental construct, incapable of articulating itself accurately."
Though he said that, he felt an intense sense of déjà vu that he couldn't transparently discuss in the current environment.
This was a compressed file.
Compressed files could be opened, and he had caught glimpses of its content.
However, it was all gibberish.
He wasn't one to absorb blood energy, thus he lacked the corresponding "method of opening."
It was like opening an epub file with Notepad.
