Ash and the others immediately turned their heads to look at the empty corridor, avoiding the sight of the worship scene inside.
The power of worship was something they had experienced at the hospital camp. Even if they weren't inside, merely gazing from a distance could draw them in.
Only Tamasi could afford occasional glances. The fiery ideal that he harbored not only allowed him to withstand the biting green chills of the night, but also enabled him to confront other glows without dimming his own shine.
"What's the worship of the Transcend Sect like?" Igula hadn't heard any noise. "Why is there no sound at all?"
Tamasi: "Hard to say."
"What are they doing then?"
"Many strange patterns appear in the air, and then everyone just stares at them, transfixed."
"What kind of patterns specifically?"
"Indescribable—seemingly simple yet profound."
"Can you draw them on the palm of our hands?"
