Lyle's face was still being overtaken by the spreading black mud, as if it intended to swallow him whole.
"Hold on, Lyle!" The scholar's silver chains began to dance, engaging in a tug-of-war with the black mud that was enveloping Lyle. The scholar, manipulating the magic power as if wielding a precise scalpel, began to excise the contaminating black mud from Lyle.
But that strange substance was relentless, and Lyle's features were oozing like a spring.
A temporary solution, not addressing the root cause.
"His soul is undergoing corruption, he needs to be soothed."
"But my power isn't enough." Medusa's form emerged from behind Lyle's neck, sprawling over his features.
"I will lend you my magic power, Medusa. You remember the structure of the human soul, don't you?"
"I remember, it's only slightly different from that of ghosts."
The scholar relaxed the input of magic power, and the black mud once again claimed its territory.
