Quickly, he realized something quite peculiar and unthinkable.
The floor beneath his feet became a weave of tightly packed molecular grids, each shimmering like an endless web of diamonds.
Each node of the lattice was vibrating with a silent, unknown energy.
The bed by his side became a forest of ordered strands, and he couldn't help but notice the metallic frame was thrumming with a different energy—one that was much denser and more stubborn than the mattress.
But when his gaze swept to the mirror, he froze.
The glass was beautiful.
Countless atoms linked in delicate, near-perfect patterns, forming a translucent sheet that bent light on its torch.
He could now see every bond, every tether between molecules with each piece humming gently in pace.
But most importantly, Ryuk could feel them.
Like a pianist running fingers across the keys, Ryuk knew—he could press, pull, and rewrite these bonds.
The bindings had become malleable to him as if, as if...
