He wore a ghastly white mask, painted with distorted patterns in a dark red pigment.
It looked like countless, pained faces, screaming and stacked atop one another.
"The Doomsday Cult!"
A piece of information flashed through the lingering fragments of Wei Song's memory.
They were traitors who had sided with the Abyssal Rift, a cancer festering within human society.
They specialized in capturing ordinary people who hadn't undergone their Awakening, using them for blood sacrifices to please the "god" they worshipped.
Just then, the black-robed man at the very front slowly raised his withered hands and began to chant a Spell.
His voice was hoarse and deep, the syllables bizarre, belonging to no known human language.
As the Spell progressed, the dark red, blood-like patterns on the stone platform suddenly lit up!
A dark red light emanated from the patterns, growing brighter and more blinding by the second.
The sickeningly sweet smell in the air suddenly intensified tenfold.
