A murky force surged forth.
From simple to complex, from minute to immense, it flowed through the arcane connection between soul and flesh, instantly manifesting in the material world with overwhelming presence.
In a blink, the shadow beneath Seraphine's feet surged outward like an ink spill, engulfing the entire laboratory.
Moments later, hundreds—no, thousands—of jagged shadow blades, each towering four to five meters tall, erupted from the sea of darkness coating the floor.
Swish swish swish——
The blades tore through the air in a frenzied storm of slicing and stabbing, producing an unrelenting cacophony of rending sounds.
Within seconds, the laboratory's ceiling, walls, instruments, equipment, and storage units were all shredded into heaps of scrap metal, shattered debris, and fragments of glass.
“Hm. The mental power of this body is slightly... lacking. Perhaps I’ll need to add gestures or verbal cues to make the hypnosis more effective. No big deal—just a minor adjustment.”
For Seraphine, a master of hypnosis and psychological manipulation, controlling minds with a single word or a snap of her fingers was second nature.
Just then, a piercing alarm shrieked through the corridor.
Ding ling ling ling ling!!!
It seemed an alarm system had been damaged amid Seraphine’s rather spontaneous act of destruction.
She paid it no mind.
And then—
Bang!!
The twisted, half-melted lab door flew open with a crash.
A security squad from the Losngel City underground base of the Frankenstein Corporation burst in—heavily armed, their weapons drawn.
The squad leader—a stocky, middle-aged man—caught sight of Seraphine. His expression twisted in terror as he shouted, “Open fire!!”
Instantly, a dozen submachine guns roared to life, unleashing a barrage of bullets.
Clack clack clack clack clack!!
Seraphine merely shook her head slightly.
Before her, a swirling vortex about a meter wide shimmered into existence—silent and smooth.
The Dimensional Pocket opened.
It effortlessly swallowed the incoming bullet storm, collecting the rounds in a quiet vacuum of space.
Next—
The black shadow beneath her feet surged once more, lightning-fast, spreading out to the guards’ positions.
Then, as if black thunder exploded beneath them—
A dense thicket of Shadow Spikes erupted violently from the ground.
Szzzzzzzzzzzt!!
“AAAHHH!!”
“Monster!!”
“Devil—DEVIL!!”
The spikes tore upward, impaling every guard through limb and torso, pinning them screaming to the floor like ragdolls nailed in place.
The captain—his chest, shoulders, abdomen, and neck pierced through—struggled to remain upright, his face twisted in agony as he glared at Seraphine, who now approached calmly and silently.
“Impossible... impossible!! Abram never had powers like this!!”
Seraphine passed him without a glance.
Without a word.
At that moment, the Shadow Spikes lodged in the guards’ bodies detonated—splitting apart into dozens of finer, sharper barbs.
Each one violently pierced through internal organs, nerves, and bones, bursting out from spines, ribs, and eye sockets.
“AAAHHHH!! AAAHHHHH!!”
The guards writhed in torment, howling in agony—until their voices abruptly cut off.
Dead.
One by one.
Szzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt.
The Shadow Spikes trembled once more.
They slashed and whirled, reducing the corpses to scattered limbs and pulverized bone.
Blood pooled, staining the floor in deep crimson.
It flowed like a river toward the blown-out entrance.
Amid the gore and ruin, Seraphine stood still, lost in thought.
“The mechanics of the Shadow Domain seem to be deeply entangled with the Spiritual Dimension... which means...”
“Both Sorren and Abram—their Hexagram powers are also tied to the Spiritual Dimension.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, murmuring, “This can’t be a coincidence. There’s something behind this. It’s far too deliberate…”
The Flesh and Blood Mysticism Sect.
She activated Chaos Calculation.
Within thirty seconds, a faint yet distinct answer surfaced in her mind.
【Eliondra... Witchcraft Association... Secret Society】
“…I see.”
Seraphine narrowed her eyes.
“Perhaps it’s time I paid a visit to Eliondra.”
In truth, within the vast interconnected lore of the Dragonblood franchise—a sprawling intellectual property encompassing video games, novels, manga, merchandise, live-action adaptations, and even stage plays—
There existed two relatively well-known, yet conflicting, theories about the origins of Eliondra’s witchcraft system.
The first theory—
Originated from an award-winning horror animated short film from the Old World. The film, steeped in Cthulhu-esque aesthetics, had once taken home a major prize at an international anime expo.
Though technically part of the Dragonblood universe, the animation was set primarily on the continent of Eliondra, with a narrative and tone far removed from the franchise’s main storylines.
According to this version—
In the era paralleling ancient Greece, somewhere on the continent of Eliondra, there lived a destitute, nameless astrologer.
While wandering through the wilderness, he stumbled upon a hidden cavern nestled in the foothills of the Alps. There, buried beneath dust and time, he discovered a strange, ancient tome—its origins unknown.
And from the moment he laid hands on that book, an inexplicable compulsion overtook him.
He had to perform the ritual detailed inside.
He needed to.
As if the very purpose of his life had been waiting for this moment.
Driven by obsession, the astrologer—once a withered, broken man—began traversing cities and towns, deceiving and begging, all in pursuit of the ritual's arcane components.
His goal: to conduct an ancient god-summoning rite as described in the book.
Ironically, the astrologer had never believed in gods. The Olympians worshipped by the people of his homeland meant nothing to him.
Years of witnessing humanity’s rot—ignorance, betrayal, death—had long shattered his faith in the world, and in himself.
All that remained was bitterness… and an overwhelming thirst for answers.
What was the meaning of his existence?
Of this world?
Of the universe, so vast and overflowing with both wonder and terror?
And so—
He performed the ritual.
He reached out, not to a deity, but to the stars themselves.
And from beyond, something responded.
From a buried, forgotten abyss in the universe, an entity—ancient and immense—turned its gaze toward him.
That gaze alone shattered his body and soul.
But the story did not end there.
His fractured soul, under the influence of that unknowable power, twisted and reshaped itself.
It became something... other.
A grotesque, malformed soul-spirit.
The first of its kind.
The earliest, most ancient witch.
But in Seraphine’s eyes—
This so-called “ancient witch” bore far more resemblance to a corrupted being—something tainted by an unknowable Evil God.
A Primordial Demon, born from cosmic ruin.
Its abilities, as described in the short film, were eerily similar to the demon from the 1998 film Fallen—a villainous entity that could possess others.
But unlike the creature in Fallen, whose possession was limited by physical contact and time constraints…
This Primordial Demon operated on a terrifying scale.
It could possess others across kilometers—purely through a spiritual field—and existed entirely in a soul state.
Its corrupted, warped soul-form could remain in the material world indefinitely.
And despite being called a “witch,” the entity in the film never once used what could be called proper witchcraft.
It simply descended into uncontrollable madness.
Wherever it went, it brought nothing but brutality and slaughter.
In truth, it bore little resemblance to the archetype of a witch.
Rather, the entity seemed to be the animator’s personal allegory—an abstract expression of madness and chaos, crafted to critique the establishment and reflect countercultural disillusionment.
As for the second origin theory—
It came not from official media, but from a wildly popular piece of European fan fiction set within the Dragonblood universe.
That fan-author, dissatisfied with how weakly the Western power systems were portrayed compared to Eastern martial arts, had painstakingly developed an entirely new witchcraft framework to balance the scales.
According to that version—
The original witch did not emerge during the Middle Ages.
He descended.
This "founder of witchcraft" was no native lifeform of Earth.
What exactly the plot entailed, Seraphine didn’t know. She’d never read the fanfic herself—only seen a few out-of-context quotes floating around on character battle forums.
Still, even without reading a word of it, Seraphine had managed to pick up a few scattered details.
For example—
Morningstar, Resplendent Moon, Shining Sun.
These were the witch rank classifications within that fanmade system.
Beyond that, she knew nothing else.
Of course, these two were merely the better-known versions of the origin theories behind witchcraft.
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
There were undoubtedly more obscure interpretations—
But Seraphine couldn’t recall them. Simply because she had never encountered them.
After all, in her previous life, she was just another overworked office drone scraping by—not some diehard 2D media fanatic with time to spare for niche lore.
She gave a faint shake of her head.
Instinctively, Seraphine extended her spiritual power, scanning the area and collecting any residual information or data worth analyzing.
Meanwhile, her thoughts drifted to the Frankenstein Corporation.
In truth, long before Selene’s modification…
Back when Seraphine first gained access to the Sacred Society’s core technologies—what is now widely known as the Frankenstein Corporation’s technological foundation—
A question had already taken root in her mind.
How?
How had the Flesh Mysticism Sect—or the Frankenstein Corporation—come to possess technology so far beyond the scope of Earth’s scientific paradigm?
Where did these advancements actually come from?
Driven by that question, Seraphine began deducing based on everything she had come to understand about the organization.
The most plausible answer emerged clearly:
The Abraham Machine.
That device was the likeliest source of all their black technology.
But then came the next question:
Where did the Abraham Machine originate?
In the original work—Superpower Struggle—there was no satisfying explanation.
The game never attempted to justify the Sacred Society’s bizarre arsenal of supernatural technologies.
It only hinted that the group’s enigmatic leader, Monroe Holmes, had recovered the Abraham Machine from deep beneath the ocean long ago.
Beyond that?
Nothing.
No origin. No context.
Of course, Superpower Struggle was, at its core, just a video game.
It prioritized entertainment over coherence.
But in reality—or at least in any logically constructed system—a technology can’t just appear out of nowhere. No matter how secret or forbidden, there must be breadcrumbs to follow. It cannot remain a complete and unexplained 【Black Box】.
And so—
Seraphine’s suspicions deepened.
Her thoughts sharpened.
By her current understanding, science could be defined as:
A systematic body of knowledge, intellectual activity, and practical methodology dedicated to observing, organizing, and explaining the structure and behavior of all phenomena—while producing predictions that can be tested.
In this context, predictability and falsifiability are two critical pillars of science.
Science is rooted in 【research】—an active, systematic approach to collecting and analyzing information.
Its purpose: to discover, explain, and organize facts, events, behaviors, and theories.
Or to apply those facts, laws, and theories in practical, real-world contexts.
Scientific research is always built on a foundation of prior knowledge—derived from observation, experimentation, and mathematical modeling.
In modern science, the general research process includes five core steps:
-
Formulate a question
-
Propose a hypothesis
-
Predict the results
-
Conduct experiments
-
Analyze the data
Of course, not every research project rigidly follows this order, nor does every study include all five steps. Science is flexible.
But regardless of structure, one thing is absolute:
These steps require a free, open, and information-rich environment to exist.
Which means—
No scientific breakthrough—no matter how advanced—can emerge without precedent, without exchange, without foundation.
In short: the evolution of all scientific technology must leave traces.
And yet—
The Frankenstein Corporation’s vast arsenal of ultra-advanced technologies shows none.
No precedents.
No intermediary developments.
No presentations at global tech expos. No published papers. No references in peer-reviewed journals.
Nothing.
These technologies simply… appeared.
Fully-formed. Flawless. Functionally complete.
As if summoned into existence.
And that? That is scientifically impossible.
No revolutionary system—especially one at the bleeding edge—can manifest ex nihilo, without any lineage or scaffolding.
Such a scenario defies every principle of scientific progress.
Therefore—
By logical deduction, there’s only one viable conclusion:
These so-called “black technologies” must originate from outside the known scientific ecosystem.
From beyond the 【Earth’s Civilization’s Scientific and Technological System】.
A closed-loop system that does not explain the Frankenstein Corporation’s innovations.
“In other words...”
Seraphine’s lips curved into a smile. Her eyes gleamed with dark curiosity.
“Alien technology.”
And if she could seize that alien knowledge—
If she could decode and absorb what the Frankenstein Corporation had hidden away—
Then her martial arts system would undergo a detonation-level breakthrough.
“Perfect timing,” she mused.
“I’ll use this Abram body to investigate. After all, any damage to this spiritual projection won’t affect my true body.”
Her decision made, Seraphine turned on her heel and strode forward without hesitation.
Bang!
She casually slapped the mangled lab door aside.
It flew open, revealing a sleek, silver-grey metallic corridor stretching before her.
Just then—
Thump thump thump...
Footsteps echoed from the far end, rhythmic and urgent.
Coming closer.
Seraphine tilted her head, amused.
“…Ah.”
A soft chuckle escaped her lips as the shadow at her feet flared outward.
From it, two massive shadow blades erupted—thick, jagged, and razor-sharp. With a violent swing, they carved twin, snarling trenches along the metal floor, racing toward the corridor’s end.
Szzzzzzzzzzzt!!!
The ceiling and floor split under their passage—deep, asymmetrical scars cut clean through silver steel, as if torn by titanic hands.
And just then—
The security team reached the corner.
They turned.
And they saw them.
Two immense shadow blades racing toward them like lightning bolts made of void.
Terror erupted in their eyes.
Panic overtook reason.
“No—!”
“What is that?!”
“HELP ME!!!”
“LORD ABOVE!!!”
In an instant, the shadow blades sliced through the air—gouts of blood and severed limbs flew in every direction.
Who died, and how many perished, was unknown.
But that didn’t matter.
Thump ~ Thump ~
Seraphine’s swift footsteps echoed down the corridor, now drenched in blood and scattered with mangled corpses.
Suddenly, she came to a halt.
“Huh… the base guards were actually armed with a Minigun?”
Shadows stirred around her, lifting a heavy machine gun from among the fallen bodies and suspending it in front of her.
It was unmistakably a Minigun—known across battlefields as a merciless meat grinder.
Crack crack crack!
In the blink of an eye, the sleek black weapon disassembled itself, its components unraveling like the slender tentacles of an octopus. The parts—large and small—circled Seraphine in midair.
She regarded the hovering pieces, raised a hand to her chin, and murmured thoughtfully:
“I just had an idea.”
Her memories surged forward. Countless schematics, formulas, and parameters from the firearms industry rapidly converged into a comprehensive mental framework—streamlined, layered, and ready.
A firearm, at its core, is merely an iron tube with a damaged rear seal.
Its destructive principle, boiled down to basics—
Is to ignite the gunpowder inside the cartridge, which in turn combusts the propellant, generating high temperature and pressure to launch the bullet at extreme speed.
As the bullet travels through the barrel’s rifling, it’s forced into high-speed spin, striking its target with kinetic force and inflicting damage.
The essence of a firearm lies in energy conversion—across materials, stages, and states.
Though deceptively simple in form—
A gun embodies the culmination of centuries of human military-industrial advancement. It is the refined product of Earth’s long, bloody legacy of weaponized evolution.
And in this moment, Seraphine found inspiration.
A new way to enhance the utility of her shadow ability.
“Abram can only simulate crude cold weapons using shadows.”
“But with my understanding of firearms, I can attempt something more complex.”
Her spiritual projection stirred.
Abram’s confused and dulled soul instantly began channeling unknown power from the Spiritual Dimension, drawn through that mysterious ‘door’.
Buzz ———
The shadows beneath her—already writhing like a living entity—suddenly surged outward, unleashing dozens of tendrils.
These near-ethereal appendages quickly took shape: forming receivers, muzzle brakes, barrels, stocks, and even individual bullets.
Piece by piece, these ink-black components—seemingly alive—began assembling on their own. Within seconds, they had formed a semi-illusory, semi-material Minigun.
“The chemical makeup of gunpowder can't be reproduced using shadow constructs, but…”
Seraphine eyed the shadowbound weapon before her, its black frame anchored by tendrils, and mused aloud:
“…I can use telekinesis to apply micro-compression and simulate the explosive energy of a gunpowder detonation. That part’s easy.”
Even though the spiritual projection currently hosting her telekinetic force was relatively weak, simulating small-scale airbursts didn’t require raw strength—only extreme precision.
And for Seraphine, whose telekinetic control had already reached the subatomic scale, it was child’s play.
Were it not for the inherent limitation that shadow abilities couldn’t operate at such a microscopic level—
She could’ve gone even further.
In an instant, her telekinesis surged outward—spiraling into the shadow bullet’s casing, infusing the round with kinetic force.
Then, the shadow-formed firearm discharged.
Bang!
A dark projectile, forged from living shadow, blasted from the muzzle.
It tore through the air for dozens of meters before slamming into the metal wall ahead.
Thud!
A dull, heavy impact echoed.
A clean bullet mark instantly appeared on the wall’s surface.
Without warning, the vast shadow beneath Seraphine’s feet spread like ink in water—flooding across the floor and creeping up the surrounding walls.
A moment later, dozens—no, over a hundred—black Miniguns emerged from within the shifting shadows embedded in the metal. All of them aimed forward and unleashed a synchronized storm of fire at the wall.
Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang!!!
A deafening, relentless barrage.
When the final echo faded, the wall ahead was left shredded and cratered, barely holding together.
“If I simulate muscles using shadow, and channel Dragonwave force into the bullet’s propulsion… the destructive output should spike exponentially.”
She moved without hesitation.
Another hulking Minigun emerged from the wall’s shadows—this one visibly different.
Strangely, the rear of the machine gun began to swell, giving rise to thick cords of blackened muscle-like tissue, their sinewy fibers winding tightly around the ammunition housing. Each muscular strand seemed to fuse with the weapon, penetrating deep into its core.
The gun fired.
Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang!!!
This time, the report was deeper—lower-pitched, heavy like the sound of collapsing steel.
And the effect was immediate.
The point of impact on the wall began to corrode, melting and weakening like it had been soaked in concentrated acid.
Creeaaak...
With a groan of metal fatigue, the wall crumbled into rubble.
…
After navigating seven turns through the long, sterile corridor, Seraphine stepped into an expansive laboratory chamber.
At first glance, the lab was dominated by a towering, intricate machine—thick with cables, whirring softly as it ran.
At the top of this massive construct, several dozen metal pipes, each as thick as an arm, extended upward. These pipes connected directly into the white-paneled walls, which were embedded with multiple glass chambers.
Seraphine’s eyes swept over them casually.
Inside each glass compartment—almost like transparent coffins—lay grotesquely muscular, bald women. Their eyes were shut tight, their breathing shallow.
“Genetic augmentation experiments?”
She guessed.
Then—suddenly—their bodies began to twitch.
Signs of imminent awakening.
Seeing this, the shadow beneath Seraphine’s feet surged outward, erupting into dozens of long, drill-tipped tendrils. They spun with a sharp, buzzing hum—then launched forward like bullets toward every glass compartment along the walls.
Crack crack crack snap—
A chorus of shattering glass and splintering bone erupted.
In the blink of an eye, the tendrils had brutally pierced through the compartments and rammed straight into the skulls of the test subjects.
Blood sprayed. Brains burst.
Within seconds, every glass chamber on either side had been transformed into a grotesque display of headless corpses and gore.
Severed limbs, shattered glass, splattered blood—it was everywhere.
The laboratory now resembled a set torn from a high-budget horror film.
Yet Seraphine’s expression didn’t change.
Cold. Detached. Unflinching.
With her hands calmly clasped behind her back, she continued walking, entering yet another pitch-black metal corridor.
Meanwhile—
In the hidden corners of the corridor, dozens of micro-surveillance cameras came alive. Their lenses adjusted, all swiveling in unison to lock onto Seraphine. They began recording silently.
Within milliseconds, the image data was digitized and streamed through a network of metallic conduits embedded in the walls.
The wires led deep underground, channeling the signal into concealed relay devices hidden inside the infrastructure.
There, the digital data was processed, converted into layered analog transmissions, and relayed further downward—to a destination one hundred meters below the surface.
That destination was a sealed, reinforced metal chamber.
Inside, a large monitor bathed the dark room in dim light—its display filled with a live feed of Seraphine calmly walking through the corridor.
Not that the darkness mattered—advanced optical tuning systems adjusted brightness and detail in real time.
In front of the screen sat a stern-faced white man, upright and stone-still, eyes fixed on the footage.
This was Anthony Kenn, Head of Security for the Frankenstein Corporation’s Losngel City Branch.
Suddenly, a deep voice echoed in the chamber.
“Anthony.”
He looked up.
Floating before him, suspended in the air, was a glowing 3D holographic projection of a man.
Anthony immediately stood and bowed respectfully. “Mr. Flander.”
The projection depicted another white man—majestic, imposing, and cold-eyed.
This was the supreme commander of all security forces under the Frankenstein Corporation.
Sky Star – Domingo Flander.
Flander’s voice was even and commanding:
“You’ve seen it. For reasons still unknown, Abram has undergone some kind of transformation. The Boss and I suspect Seraphine is involved.”
“I can no longer reach her. Something may have happened. Your task now is simple—assemble a team, locate Abram, and bring him in.”
Anthony’s brows twitched. “But… Abram is a high-tier superpower user. The intensity of his abilities—”
“Is irrelevant,” Flander cut in flatly. “Abram isn’t trained for direct combat. Even if his power has grown, as long as you deploy high-intensity shadowless lamps to neutralize his shadow-based abilities, he can be taken down.”
Flander narrowed his eyes.
“Also… I recall that Sawyer is currently stationed at the Losngel base. Where is he now?”
Anthony replied promptly, “Mr. Sawyer left the base not long ago. His mood didn’t seem good.”
Flander: “Understood. I’ll assign him to assist you. With him involved, Abram won’t get away.”
Anthony hesitated. “I heard… Mr. Sawyer and Abram are blood brothers. Will he even be willing to take part?”
Flander’s expression didn’t shift, but his tone grew colder.
“You misunderstand, Anthony. If not for the organization, both of them would’ve rotted in the slums years ago. He dares not—and will not—refuse an order.”
Though both men held the rank of Hexagram, Flander’s disdain for the Sawyer brothers was undisguised.
Anthony bowed slightly.
“Understood, Mr. Flander.”
...
Seraphine stood silently before a massive glass panel, stretching over five hundred meters in length.
Through the half-meter-thick reinforced glass, she gazed into a semi-circular garden with a radius of nearly a hundred meters.
It resembled one of those prehistoric landscape exhibits from natural history museums.
Except—
Everything inside was silver.
Or rather, silver was the dominant hue.
Under rows of high-intensity lamps suspended above, the mottled terrain was crawling with vein-like, silver-blue organic tissue—writhing slowly like something alive.
Farther out—over a hundred meters away—moss-like plants crept rapidly up the sheer rock walls enclosing the garden.
They pulsed with faint bioluminescent hues of ghostly blue and pale silver.
Long, serpentine vines in shades of steel-gray dangled from the garden’s ceiling—each one stretching dozens of meters toward the metal floor below.
From that metallic soil, strange silver “trees” had sprouted, three to four meters tall.
Though called trees, they looked more like massive fungal growths.
Thick, metallic leaves fanned out from these trunks—dense and broad, like slabs of forged metal.
Everything was shrouded in a swirling, blue-grey mist.
From a distance, the entire ecosystem radiated a powerful, unnatural alienness.
“Definitely not of Earth…”
Seraphine stepped closer, eyes narrowing behind the glass.
“I’m becoming more and more convinced this organization is tied to extraterrestrials.”
A sudden thought struck her.
She didn’t hesitate.
With a flick of will, her mental power pierced straight through the glass, reaching into the swirling fog inside the garden.
Her eyes sharpened instantly.
“…Mercury vapor.”
“This garden… is simulating a mercury-based biosphere.”
She paused, flipping through her mental archive—scanning the narrative of 《Dragonblood》.
“Could this be connected to the Mercury Race? The invaders from the second arc of the storyline?”
Just then—
Swish swish swish ~
A low rustling stirred the alien foliage.
Seraphine snapped out of her thoughts and looked up.
The dense growth trembled—then parted.
From the depths of the silver garden, a creature crawled into view.
And it was hideous.
Like something stitched together from two entirely different human bodies.
More specifically—
It looked like a burly, oversized man with his head flung back and body grotesquely melted—sunken halfway into the abdomen of a smaller, elderly man hunched behind him.
The thick-necked brute’s head, with its twisted expression and gnashing teeth, emerged grotesquely from the gaping maw on the back of the old man’s skull.
The old man’s face and torso had bloated beyond recognition—grotesquely deformed and distended.
At the same time, two thick arms—belonging to the burly man—pierced outward through the old man’s armpits, extending down and digging into the soil.
Even worse, the brute’s legs had twisted forward unnaturally—flesh splitting, bone fragmenting, until they burst open into a dozen gnarled, malformed little hands.
Each tiny hand gripped a different silver branch, fingers writhing and clenching with spasmodic strength.
The elder man’s upper body had atrophied to near collapse, while his legs had thickened to carry the grotesque weight.
In sum—
Monstrous. Deformed. Utterly abominable.
A thing that broke the definition of ugliness.
Outside the glass, Seraphine narrowed her eyes.
“…Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting.”
Even compared to the bioengineered abominations in her lab, this thing was an affront.
If she had to describe it—
It resembled a nightmare hybrid of 《The Thing》.
Her disgust flared.
“Die.”
With a thought, her telekinesis surged forward—an invisible force that wrapped around the creature with surgical precision.
Crack crack crack ~
A symphony of snapping joints and rupturing flesh followed.
Within seconds, the howling, writhing abomination had been crushed—twisted into a mangled sculpture of meat and bone.
Without a word, Seraphine turned and walked away from the glass.
As she moved, her thoughts returned to 《Dragonblood》—and to the ominous threat posed by the Mercury Race.