The ghost thrown into the well struggled, the agony and struggle of the soul needing no medium to be conveyed, resonating naturally.
"Sir?" Reed frowned unconsciously as he looked at the scenes below.
As living beings, anyone who witnessed such a scene would feel an uncontrollable instinctive disgust.
The sight wasn't particularly horrifying, but the soul's instinct was resisting the uncomfortable twisting and merging.
Another three ghosts were forced to jump into the well, but this time the effect wasn't as good, the struggling and writhing ghosts didn't jump back out, only bubbles gurgling and bursting sounds were heard before the well finally returned to silence.
A failed attempt seemed to have angered something here, as the howling and moaning wind appeared again, and ghosts began to flee uncontrollably.
Lind finally understood why after a while that irritating wind would blow, and why ghosts would run out; they weren't attacking, but escaping.
