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In the tranquil ancient castle, within its lonely corridors.
A figure was moving.
A pair of black boots stepped on the ground, their owner's walking posture restrained yet carrying a hint of elegance, like a dapper and courteous gentleman.
If one only looked at the lower half.
For his upper body was twisted and entangled, black swellings accumulating at the shoulders, casting shadows that distorted and writhed on the ground, several black tentacles sliding across the floor, leaving wet trails behind.
The figure stumbled slightly as some of the tentacles stuck to the wall, pulling the body, resisting forward motion.
"Rourou!"
This person was Lyle, who had just completed the bestowal ritual.
"Wall," Rourou's large eyes observed Lyle, one tentacle prodding at the wall surface.
In the end, Lyle compromised in front of her large eyes, comparatively, this was a less uncomfortable state.
The newly adapted talent had learned to speak, no longer the gurgling sound of before.
