At the Golden Lion Tribe camp, Chloe knelt on the ground, his gaze fervent.
Above, the immense crimson moon descended slowly towards the earth, and upon its surface, distorted faces could be discerned, seemingly wailing yet also celebrating.
What is this thing?
Enzo, Freya, and Fraspens all felt the weight of an unseen gaze upon them, sending shivers down their spines. Their consciousness dulled, and the very blood coursing through their veins began to stagnate.
"Delicious... death... the taste of life..."
As the Crimson Moon descended, Enzo even heard the disquieting voices of those twisted faces.
Their utterances were a chaotic murmur, yet they hinted at a fragmentation of Enzo's awareness—not by choice, as in the Realm of Illusions with the devil moth, but rather a forceful tearing apart, not merely into two halves, but brutally shredded.
It cannot continue like this!
