The darkening skies cast their last ambers of light onto the Caesar harbour of West Balam. This harbour, named after Cesar the great as well as the cities surrounding it, used to be key colonies of the Intis Republic simply due to their geographical location, granting this northern continent behemoth access to the Star highlands of West Balam. Only Behrens Harbour and its surroundings were ranked above.
However, what was once a mighty colony of the Republic was now part of the Loen kingdom, which rebuilt itself from the ashes of the world war, and a year later now focused on reinforcing its grip on its newly acquired lands.
Away from the busy Caesar harbour, and much further away from the cities, closing in on the expensive highlands was a relatively isolated piedmont, with gentle slopes dotted with various sparse forests. Along one of these slopes was a large Intisian style mansion, featuring some Loenese architecture to the trained eye, and was completed with a large, neat garden, which was properly gaited and patrolled.
Within one of its many rooms was the main kitchen, where a woman in a maid uniform with light brown skin, a few curls falling out of her white cap, stared deeply at the orange yellow drink reflecting her brown eyes.
Her eyes flickered as the lamps in the kitchen were turned on by another plain maid with native features walking in and examining her.
"Isdole. Quit wasting time and go serve them their drinks." She spoke in an annoyed and commanding tone, to which the maid named Isdole nodded, and poured the orange-yellow drink from a large jar onto two large human skulls laid on a silver platter.
The waxed filled orifices of the skulls prevented spillage, as the maid took a deep breath and carried the platter containing the skulls and the jar out of the kitchen.
Her light steps resonated along the corridors, lined boldly with skulls and skeletons of all kinds, with torches attached to sconces; their lights flickering and reflecting the maid.
Though somewhat used to it, she still felt slightly creeped out by them as her modern mind and the abundance of horror movies she had watched made her think one day, one of these skeletons would leap at her.
Yes, Isdole, codenamed Inabakumori as a transmigrator and a native born of the Star Highlands regions, was used to her strange and fascinating culture, but at the same time, not so much.
Thankfully, my Nightmare capabilities prevent me from just, well, having nightmares. She inwardly mused, as she didn't look back at the maid following her behind and soon reached the occupied living room.
Seated on comfortable couches across a large table made out of bones were two men, one with a bulky physique and typical Loenese facial features, and the other being a native with a rather thin frame with recessed eye sockets accentuating his sharp brown eyes. His long dark hair was tied in a bun, complementing his confidence while engaging with the opposite party.
The two men paused their chattering as Isdole placed the silver platter on the bone table, and served them the skulls filled with the drinks.
"Your Gwadar, Sirs." Isdole said in a professional tone in Highlander, while curtseying to the bulky guest. The man with recessed eye sockets grinned as he took hold of one of the human skulls with his very large hands and showed it to his guest.
"I know this might seem unusual and even revolting to you, but in most parts of the continent, a host serving their most esteemed guests using their ancestor's skulls is a sign of great respect."
He then looked at the skull in his large hand and continued in a tone of reverence. "For instance, this belongs to my great grandfather, a great shaman of the Gwedar tribe." His eyes moved to the large skull before his guest as he added. "And that belongs to his beloved wife."
The bulky man smiled as he picked up the skull before him and spoke in an intriguing tone. "And I'm guessing this was the grand surprise you were previously talking about, Mr. Valentin?" As he spoke, he brought the skull closer to the outstretched other one, and toasted, using them.
After enjoying a sip of the sour drink with a hint of sweetness, he heard Valentin say, "Oh, trust me. There's more to come."
They both spoke in the Southern Continent Highlander, which wasn't to be mistaken with the Highlander—the official language of the Feysac empire. However, their conversation had nothing to do with Isdole, who had already made herself "invisible" and was preparing to go back to her quarters. Unfortunately for her, the brief and stern glare of the maid who had accompanied her from the kitchen made her understand she had to remain in the living room in case the gentlemen needed assistance for various matters.
Even after three months here, you still treat me as some rookie… Isdole resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and instead used her well-educated background to listen to the conversation between the master of the house—Valentin, and his esteemed guest, Mr. Marion.
The two exchanged words laced with laughs in various languages including but not limited to Ancient Feysacian, Loenese, Highlander, Dutanese and Intisian. Isdole could only understand Highlander, Dutanese as well as Intisian, and could make a certain picture of what they were discussing.
Trading of goods. Hmm… Given the master's speciality, I'm guessing it's Weapon trading. They're also throwing insane prices like 50000 pounds… Even as a beyonder, those are still outrageous.
The thought made her brows twitch a bit before she relaxed. This was something that had perplexed her greatly.
While she was somewhat familiar with her supernatural capabilities as a sequence 7 Nightmare, Isdole didn't know the how, where, and when she even got involved with the beyonder world.
Heh… Like a huge hole in my memories, except I didn't even realise this for the three months I've been working here… That is, until I died, and then was pulled over for "that" gathering.
Her mind wandered back to six days ago. The day she had supposedly died. Except she didn't even remember it happening, nor did she wake up in a pool of her own blood.
Nope. Just woke up in the forest nearby, bleeding, and very tired. Then, I was pulled up for the gathering… Heck; it was only after I got to hear about the others that I imagined that I had somehow died. Also, I've no recollections whatsoever of being a beyonder, or even experiencing the beyonder world.
This had shocked her beyond belief during and after the mystical gathering. Surely, mid sequence beyonders didn't just appear out of nowhere, right?
Having noticed the anomaly, Isdole scanned through her earliest memories in both lives; with the one on Earth being her being the typical college student life, and the current her being a native of a primitive tribe which was raided and destroyed by the Intis Republic. After being sold left and right, she was finally taken in by a charismatic and influential native woman who took Isdole under her wing, and taught her various crucial skills.
Under her tutelage, Isdole grew into a reliable adult, but that changed when the woman died of a sickness, and unfortunately, Isdole was left in a precarious situation.
Long story short, life fucked me over since I was born, and I had no way of surviving except becoming a maid… But wait, where's the part where I'm actually part of some secret organisation, huh?
This was where she stumbled. At the very least, using her meta knowledge, she understood a Nightmare like her couldn't just appear for no reason, and she even suspected she was possibly related to the Numinous Episcopate, just based on her pathway.
I also have this. Her right hand subtly gripped around the side pocket of her long maidservant dress, feeling a medallion within it.
Through her own mediocre and self taught divination skills, she knew this was a mystical item corresponding to a sequence 7 Psychiatrist, capable of soothing the mind. Together with her passable mental soothing poems, she had barely placated her troubled and hole filled mind.
However, whether instinctual or through her own knowledge, she never made the mistake of using, or even exposing, the fact that she was different from an average human. In spite of her extreme curiosity for testing her beyonder powers, she strongly held back the impulse of using them.
No. This restraint is way too extreme sometimes. And given I've a Psychiatrist mystical item, and a Hypnotist is the sequence 6 of the Spectator pathway, it's not impossible I was somehow influenced… But, for what motive? I've no idea.
The thought of probably being influenced by a high level Spectator or the corresponding mystical item had sent extreme terror through her mind and body.
Anyone would be extremely fearful of possibly being under the influence of magical mental capabilities.
Once more, the medallion calmed her troubled mental gears, as Isdole turned to peer in a corridor opposite her, seeing two other maids coming into the living room.
She nodded in response and then turned around and walked out of the living room and into the corridor she had come from. The presence of other maids meant she was done with her shift of the day and could rest.
This caused a smile to form on her faintly illuminated features, but it soon receded as the maid who spoke to her harshly came closer and addressed her without acknowledging her presence. "You better be up by 4. I'm sure I don't need to remind you of the consequences of being late."
"Yes ma'am," Isdole responded with a fake smile as she walked towards a stairway which led to her own quarters. Thankfully for her, the other maid took a different route.
Finally, a little breather… Wait, what am I saying? I'm just going straight to the "sardine" quarters. Dammit, the college dorms were packed like this too… I guess some things never change.
Isdole shook her head after letting out a sigh, wishing she could simply use her beyonder powers to get out of her low-level job, and earn a large quantity of money doing things at her own leisure.
Her trained and experienced steps didn't falter with the dim light made by the torches as she walked down the corridor leading to the communal bathroom. Suddenly, her entire body froze.
The surrounding darkness seemingly deepened, as she felt an unimaginable frigid grip on her soul body, sending chills down her entire existence and into the still surroundings. Numerous gazes, from the skeletons decorating the walls, from the still air, and terrifying gazes from under her feet, peered her down, examining every part of her in a cold manner.
Her feet felt like they were standing on a tight robe, directly under a dark quagmire filled with death and decay, as if abominable creatures were going to pull her in, if she even dared to blink.
Don't look! Don't look! Don't look… Her mind wasn't as still as her immobilised body, prompting her to try to focus on a few pre-made mental poems for situations where she felt extreme frustration. She planned on using them to barely steady herself while facing this precarious situation.
This phenomenon didn't just involve this particular corridor Isdole was walking on. Instead, it encompassed the entire mansion, with every living being within, frozen due to extreme fear of being dragged by monstrous terrors into the depths of the underworld, never to be seen again.
About a kilometre away from the mansion, within the semi-arid shrubland, was an incredibly thin man with abnormally large eyes and native facial features. He took cover under a spiny short tree and stared deeply down the slopes with the mansion in his direct line of sight.
The mansion seemed to be enveloped in a faint, illusory quagmire, with translucent and pus filled arms phasing up the ground and occasionally reaching for it.
This was a Door to the Underworld ability. But one that looked vastly different from that of a Gatekeeper. At the demigod stage, instead of simply opening a door to the once divine kingdom of death, an Undying could plunge an entire area of a radius of over a hundred meters around them into the Underworld. Naturally, they had the ability to choose whether to plunge the entire area to the Underworld, or to simply project the feeling of being in the underworld to every being within range.
Each Undying was unique, simply based on the types of spiritual creatures and undead beings they had under their control. Through the ability of a special set of spirit world creatures, this particular Undying for example, could project his "Door to the Underworld" through vast distances, given he had left a mark at said location.
And my mark indeed remains. The man—Chaac retracted his gaze and his terrifying ability, and nodded at a few spirits under his command, which immediately moved through the spirit world to discreetly approach the mansion.
I can still feel its familiar blazing bones, and today I must reclaim it. Chaac's gaze grew cold as his mood reflected on the surroundings, making a cold and decaying wind sweep around.
This was a meticulous plan he had orchestrated to get back what was his; his family's priced War Bishop artefact.
As one of the three saints of the Artificial Death faction of the Numinous Episcopate, Chaac held a lot of prestige, however, following the revelation of their God's possible resuscitation during the war, and the chaos that ensued as a result, Chaac was deprived of his most valuable sealed artefact which was also a family heirloom.
Of course, most of the Artificial Death faction believed the revelation to be false, and a ruse of their mortal enemies to make them further break apart. Nevertheless, a few still felt hope, and a division of ideals soon followed. This division transitioned into conflict as the rival factions in the Numinous Episcopate: The Royal faction, Repose faction, Underworld faction, and other lower factions supported those who believed in Death's revival.
The conflict persisted even after the war, with those firmly believing it to be a ruse losing ground. Of course, Chaac was part of this faction.
And of course, those heretics stole my artefact during the war, but it was clearly not those of the Royal faction. If it were, the Pale Empress would've shattered it already… Chaac's eyes narrowed in thought. This was also why he was confident in being able to recover his artefact on his own.
For the past half a year, he made his enemies believe that his and his companion's focus were on them, when in reality, Chaac was always keeping an eye out for his artefact. After some deep investigation, he narrowed down to an area a few hundred kilometres from the Star highlands, and discreetly investigated it, eventually laying his eyes on this mansion.
Belonging to Quetzal Valentin Puma, a native born of the late Gewdar tribe, and a popular businessman. During the war, and after it, he focused most of his trade on military supplies, keeping a good relationship with all colonial forces in case one of them turned out to be a victor. He's now in good relation with the Loen kingdom, and is currently dealing with a Loenese arms dealer—Marion Blackwood… Under all this, though, Valentin has ties with our faction. That is, those heretics who believe God has already returned…
Grandfather's remains burn with a special flame, which only his direct descendants, which now solely comprises myself, can detect within a certain range. Chaac smiled at this.
Earlier today, his companions and master organised an assault on their opposition, giving him an opportunity to get what was his. Naturally, he had planned to also claim the soul of the traitor of the Artificial Death faction, Valentin, while doing so.
Even now there's no problem. Chaac inwardly noted, having used the Gate to the underworld to make his enslaved spirit creatures examine for every trap, living being, and non-living being within and around the mansion. He also checked for any possible beyonder and his current scan showed nothing bar Valentin, who he knew was an Interrogator.
This didn't assure him, and instead heightened his apprehension as he sent a number of spirits to discreetly spy and isolate the mansion, just in case.
Just as he felt some feedback from the departed spirits, his mind suddenly turned adrift while his thoughts turned sluggish.
No… Good… Attack… Despair didn't fill Chaac as he, an Undying, having received two baptisms from the Underworld through his resurrections, was used to having his thoughts and actions turn sluggish and decay.
For this, his instincts took over as he plunged the surrounding 170 meters into the Underworld. As a result, his thoughts and actions return to normal.
This… Spirit body threads control! A Bizzaro Sorcerer of Evernight!? Chaac felt his mind boil with rage having reached this conclusion.
As a demigod with over a century of experience, he naturally knew the abilities of those of his level, as well as the possible factions they could be from. And the thought of an Artificial faction member possibly colluding with the Church of Evernight sent ripples through his very soul.
Even as enemies, all factions of the Numinous Episcopate knew of their biggest unwritten rule. No matter the conflict they had with each other, their mortal enemies remained the Church of the Evernight Goddess, and the Church of the God of Combat. Facing these behemoths, they would all drop their enmity and join forces.
Quetzal Valentin Puma could also be a marionette. Or maybe the arms dealer, Marion Blackwood, could be one… Maybe both? Dammit!
This was what frustrated him the most about Bizzaro Sorcerers. Except through a few specific methods, it was extremely difficult to know which was the true body, and which was a marionette.
Unfortunately, he didn't use flame jump nor jump into the Spirit World. Chaac noted as he examined the decaying surroundings, which were still engulfed in his Gate to the Underworld, bothering this mystical realm. He had naturally expanded its typical range of over a hundred meters, as he knew firsthand the abilities of a Bizzaro Sorcerer.
Which means he either has other ways of transport, or is still laying around. Of course, the former deduction is likely correct as he could switch places with his marionettes.
Having already received feedback from his departed spirits he had sent earlier, he analyzed it.
That mansion is now empty… But I don't feel Grandfather's remains!? Chaac's eyes widened as he immediately opened illusory doors to the spirit world and passed through them.
Soon, he appeared in the vicinity of the mansion, feeling tense. Through the numerous traps he had set around the spirit world in the area, he knew there were no enemies lying in ambush, but also that the War Bishop artefact, which was supposed to be in the mansion's underground, was gone.
Even in his worried and extreme state, Chaac once more laid the Gate to the Underworld at full force, causing the surrounding two hundred meters, as well as any living creature within to be dragged into it, in case his enemy planned on using them. If the spirits and undead creatures he controlled were targeted, he'll immediately know as well.
The pale, long and decaying arms around the area moved aside as a number of formidable undead creatures made way. This was his personal collection, with two of them being demigod level monsters.
However, his brows twitched as he instantly lost connection to most of them, and faintly felt their souls become placated and return to the Underworld, leaving only the two demigod level creatures, which resisted the strong soul placation.
A trap! Chaac couldn't fully go through his thoughts as he felt a strong wave or fatigue hit him, causing him to close his eyes.
However, deep within his soul body, pure azure flames burned, causing him to abruptly wake up and fight off the induced sleep.
This was the blessing of his grandfather's remains. A War Bishop's flame!
However, this flame, his consciousness and subsequent actions fought intensely with the dizziness and weakness that came with a soothing, yet somehow haunting poem:
From the ancient tribes, where shadows creep;
A Deathbringer's power sleeps.
His dark domain, a chilling sight;
Bound by this spell, devoid of might.
Let sunlight pierce his twisted art;
Dissolve the darkness, break his heart.
His power wanes, his grip grows loose;
Lost in the light, a broken truce.
Pure and primal fear seemed to take over his already weakening existence as a term crossed his weary mind.
A Horror Bishop!
… But… The Goddess Eye, Ilya should be preoccupied… Has the Evernight Church's hold on the Southern Continent progressed to the extent of sending more Horror Bishops!?
The fear seemed to bring back all other inconsistencies in this operation. For example, how he, as an Undying, somehow couldn't identify Quetzal Valentin Puma and Marion Blackwood, who he now suspected were marionettes. How, for some reason, his first instinct wasn't to call on his leader or even his master, who was in the surrounding region. How his impulses had taken over upon noticing his grandfather's remains sudden disappearance.
… The combination of multiple demigod level sealed artefacts, likely from the Marauder and Spectator pathways, as well as the deployment of multiple demigods… Only an official faction could be this extravagant.
For some reason, even in the face of extreme adversity, Chaac felt at ease.
Illusory dark-green scales dotted with oily white feathers instantly grew and covered his body.
Chaac had decisively revealed his incomplete mythical creature form, forever throwing away his sense of self. And even with that, the fact that his enemies even gave him time to reveal it made his last shred of consciousness believe this last stance of his was futile.
…
A few minutes before this, the projected Gate to the Underworld retracted, causing the air around the mansion to return to normalcy, with Isdole falling to her knees while gasping for air.
She felt her teeth chatter as she trembled, but she nonetheless gripped her medallion, which, together with her improvised short poems, soothed her terrified mind.
Dammit… What was that!? Isdole didn't have time to wonder as she suddenly felt a simple, commanding voice speak in her mind.
Go to the basement, and pass through the door.
Huh?
A psychological cue was implanted in her mind, as she felt herself grow out of the fear, stand up and head for the basement.
Don't question stuff, and just follow whatever the hell is happening. Isdole decided to decisively shut her brain and not question things. Her ingrained instincts commanded her to follow the command fast, if she wished to live.
Along the way, she met various maidservants, cooks, and the various caretakers of the mansion with their complexion being pale with fear. In spite of this, all of them were still heading in an orderly manner to the basement.
The large group eventually went through the downward spiraling stairs, and entered the dark basement, which was faintly illuminated by tall illusory doors on one of its walls.
A Door to the Spirit World!? Isdole could feel her rising excitement, the same as the others, as their eyes widened in shock and amazement. However, before they could contemplate on it, a deep voice sounded once more in their minds.
Quick! Enter!
This sharp command caused all to push through their curiosity and march to the large door which had opened wide for them, exposing an illusory but indistinct realm with saturated colours. The door was wide enough for a number of them to enter at once, and in a little less than a minute, the entire group passed through the door.
After they had departed, Quetzal Valentin Puma appeared from the stairs, holding a large rusted iron casket with the other end being held by Marion Blackwood.
"Too bad our strings will be cut the moment we pass through…" Valentin said in a sad tone, to which Marion replied while chuckling. "That's the fate of marionettes. We're ultimately expendable."
Valentin nodded while adding, "At least we're better than our insect and rodent fellow marionettes who die in droves."
"Also… Why are we wasting time speaking to ourselves when we're literally engaging with an enemy demigod?"
Marion struggled to make a shrug as the duo crossed through the illusory doors, which vanished soon after.
…
Damn, I wanted to enjoy the Spirit World view a bit more… Isdole lamented as she found herself in what looked like an empty warehouse, which was now populated by fifteen house servants.
Isdole ignored their looks of awe as she observed the opened warehouse, noting the crimson moon in the sky. That tells me we might have not teleported that far away…
Her eyes moved to the warehouse's entrance where a tall, brown-skin woman wearing a crisp wine red suit and a white shirt, fitted with a black tie and deep red shoes walked in. The woman's long, ash-brown hair was styled in a loose ponytail, while her eyes were covered behind dark sunglasses.
"Look here please," her cold voice caused most who stared at her with fascination to shake off their stupor as they observed the woman take out what looked like a pencil from her coat. It appeared to be made of glass and was cylindrical, with the crimson light of the moon shining through its reflective surface.
Suddenly, the light exploded, penetrating the widened eyes of the people, eventually receding as they blinked in confusion.
"Follow the personnels stationed outside this warehouse and go on with your lives as usual."
In a daze, the crowd nodded at the woman's words and walked out of the warehouse. However, Isdole suddenly shook her head in confusion and then froze as various of her memories seemed to be "reborn."
For example, she was a member of the Repose faction of the Numinous Episcopate and was assigned to an infiltration mission. Like how her memories were not only buried but also "killed" through the use of various rituals and mystical items. This was to prevent any leakage of information in case she was captured. How a deep cue was placed on her to prevent her from even knowing she was a beyonder in the first place, and instead act as a maid for the foreseeable future.
And I could only recall I was a beyonder after accessing the gathering… Isdole inwardly muttered as she wiped the cold sweat forming on her brows and relaxed their tensed countenance.
"You're finally back," Isdole looked at the woman who removed her sunglasses, exposing deep Amber-coloured eyes which squinted as the tall woman gave her a warm smile.
"I did tell you to prepare my funeral just in case," Isdole spoke with a chuckle, now recognising her good friend. They were both from the Repose faction.
Isdole then snatched the Sunglasses and examined them while eyeing the woman with a playful smirk. "Morana… Men in Black Cosplay, huh? At least you made your own changes." She spoke while examining her friend's neat red suit.
Men in Black was a popular novel from Roselle's era, made by this very emperor himself. While Caesar the Great was quite the controversial figure in the Southern Continent, especially given he induced the era of colonialism which ravaged the continent, time still took its toll. While the older generation and those still oppressed due to their native background harboured hatred for him, the same couldn't be said for most of the younger and those who wished to integrate into Northern continent society.
Morana's cold demeanour vanished before her friend as she said with a laugh, "And who's the one who taught me to read and write? Didn't I inform you that you'll have to take responsibility for that? Also, you'll have done the same if you were given such a convenient Hypnotist sealed artefact."
For sure… Isdole rolled her eyes, but then her spiritual intuition flared, causing her to turn around and observe the illusory door she had passed through.
Two men holding a large, rusted iron casket were spewed out of the door before it completely vanished.
Master? Isdole observed her master, Valentin, who seemingly remained put in a dazed state, an action which was mimicked by Marion.
"Strange. They don't fall over like a Marionettist's marionette would." From her side, Morana, who immediately knew they were "dead," remarked.
A Bizzaro Sorcerer? Isdole instantly thought, using her meta knowledge. She knew a marionette which left this demigod's range of control still had about 10 minutes before it was irreversibly lost.
A Bizzaro Sorcerer was involved in whatever operation I was tasked with? Was it for that? Her eyes moved to the casket the marionettes held. She felt a deep sense of oppression from it, and felt like the casket itself was terribly hot, even though she was quite some distance away from it.
The Intis Republic, and in turn the Secret Order, has redrawn from the region. Of course, it might still be them, but there's another force who possesses Bizzaro Sorcerers, and are prone to get involved with matters of the Numinous Episcopate. Isdole turned to her friend and probed.
"It seems our faction has been involved in quite the plot."
Her words caused Morana's features to turn weird as she spoke after some moments. "Things have changed. To seize a major opportunity, our leader threw away most of the organisation's integrity." She then turned to her friend while wearing a worried expression, but Isdole simply waved dismissively.
"Don't worry. I see what you mean, and I agree with the leader."
Morana let out a reassuring sigh and then heard her friend continue with a question. "On another note, Martin isn't here?"
He was another close friend of hers.
Morana shook her head while saying, "He's been assigned to investigate together with those of the Underworld faction on the number of sects that have sprouted recently. Particularly, some supposedly worshiping a God of Disease."
Pause… Damn, those space "invaders" are indeed here… Lots of things are happening. Isdole nodded while controlling her emotions as Morana continued. "Even I was assigned on a mission based in Trier. Though I don't know the specifics yet. I only postponed my departure after hearing words of a big move being planned. Naturally, I had to see you at least before going."
Isdole scoffed hearing this, but felt herself smile, causing her to hastily change topic lest her friend mocked her for being too sentimental. "Trier, huh? I hope your mission there isn't to become someone's mistress."
Morana rolled her eyes and didn't even entertain the topic. Instead, she said in a jovial tone, "With this mission, you definitely qualify for sequence 6 and having your own sealed artefact. Any ideas?"
Isdole shrugged, having no thought on the matter. Well, I can always think about it or discuss it with those guys at tomorrow's gathering.
She felt quite excited at the prospect of meeting her fellow "Transmigrators."
…
The environment along the mansion was completely decayed, with oily white feathers scattered in various locations, the forest within a kilometre radius was blasted away at several levels, with a cold aura permeating the area.
Suddenly, up above, the fabric of the sky tore open like paper, exposing a deep and dense deep dark river which flowed. However, a bloody and cold gigantic eye soon filled this opening, and examined everything within a five kilometre radius.
Everything, whether living or nonliving, "died" with the surrounding decaying at a rapid pace, soon turning into a barren and cold wasteland.
The gigantic eye blinked, and then closed itself while the hole in the sky disappeared. At the same time, an angry roar sounded across the surroundings. Thankfully, none could experience it.