Chapter 611 - Turning Tables

Without pause or break, the ground underneath Envy tore open. It did not crack politely or split cleanly, but ruptured as if something beneath had finally lost patience with the world above. Soil, stone, and roots were forced aside as hands emerged, fingers clawing through dirt that still clung beneath broken nails. Palms blackened by rot and regret pushed upward, wrists snapping into existence as if remembered rather than formed. These were the hands of those who had died with many things left unsaid, many choices left unmade. They surged out in a writhing mass, grasping and reaching for Envy's legs like a drowning man reaching for straws, clinging with blind desperation as if her presence alone promised meaning to their return.