From the rift, a wisp of mist seeped out, as black as ink and capable of devouring all light.
The mist spread rapidly, then condensed into a face composed of countless tiny runes.
The face had no features, only a mouth that continuously opened and closed, emitting a low, overlapping sound—the whispers from the depths of the Abyss...
"Con... tract... estab... lished..."
The moment the words faded, the black mist face lunged fiercely at Ian!
Its speed far surpassed any previous attack. It ignored the space between them, appearing directly before Ian.
Ian had no time to react. No, he was completely unable to react.
The instant the face appeared, his body, his Spiritual Power, and even his thoughts were frozen.
All he could do was watch helplessly as the black mist crashed into his forehead.
BOOM!
Ian's consciousness was instantly dragged into a realm of pure darkness.
In the darkness, countless fragmented images flashed past...
