As night approached, there was still some light left in the sky. An oil lamp had been lit in the room, its halo flickering. But with each tendril that stretched out from Carl's body, the surrounding light suddenly dimmed.
It seemed the light was being devoured.
Dark and profound, the tendrils, covered in circular saw-like teeth, exuded an aura of shuddering terror.
Ghastly!
Death!
Strange!
The mustachioed man's eyes twitched. His expression twisted as his body struggled to move, but it was already too late.
"SWOOSH!"
With claws bared, the wildly dancing tendrils suddenly struck downward, completely enveloping the mustachioed man.
By the time the tendrils unfolded again, nothing was left in their place but a pile of corroded, ragged clothes.
Everything happened too quickly. By the time the others reacted, it was all over.
"Go!"
The remaining man and woman in the room joined forces. A trace of fear flashed in their eyes, but it was quickly suppressed.
