In the obscure darkness, the tall and slender figure of the strange silhouette was a thin curtain, torn open by something, so light that one could shake the perception of its weight and volume.

The already abnormal body shape is more unusually bent, the upper limbs are boneless and twisted, and the chest is flattened and hollowed.

Soft tissue tears and crippling friction sounds that are compressed to a split second are so distorted that it is difficult to form an intuitive idea of what is happening.

All it knew was that in a very short time, the owner of the terrible hammer no longer had the ability to swing it, allowing it to slide out of its flabby palm and fall to the ground like a heavy cinder from an unawakened nightmare.

Yvonne stood still, feeling his thoughts freeze for a moment. Five fingers swing, recalling the feel of the projected object.

The consciousness that has not completely escaped the dream is still exhausted, immersed in the huge gap between the inexplicable sense of freedom and reality of the lost dream, following instinct and reflex actions, and not even understanding what he has just done.

Long-term adaptation makes the body gradually accustomed to change, often forgetting what kind of things lurk under the seemingly ordinary appearance, and making it unintentionally manifest when there is no control.

Standing still, she took a few deep breaths to make sense of what was going on. The first is the habitual trepidation, as in each previous case, of realizing that something wrong has been made, and that fragments of window frames, pen barrels, or glassware have been plunged into the palms of your hands.

But the logical thinking that gradually gained the upper hand realized that the situation was different as usual. There's no need to be sorry for the guy who put "abnormal" on his face, and the brass candlestick probably won't mind this little collision.

A few similar scenes have come flooding in, mostly related to the darkness and doors, noisy or quiet things walking outside, lapping at unsturdy shelters, all that can be done is to find a safe corner in a confined space.

And this time she stood outside the door. The darkness that filled every space like deep water enveloped her, and it also contained malice of unknown shape and quantity.

The instincts in the burning veins and these memories produce a slight fear, like salt water choking deep in the nasopharynx, and there is a stinging danger, a sense of insecurity. Behind it is a thick wooden door with a metal latch two finger wide.

She tried to take a step forward, not as hard as she had imagined, and then faster and more freely, until she stood in front of the collapsed, gurgling body.

Unlike Westminburg, the movement of the other could be felt, albeit faintly, the man who had been altered by some force maintained consciousness after losing a hand and a quarter of his ribs, trying in vain to save his life from exhaustion.

The suffocation and pain prevented him from concentrating, and he just groped his way to the wound with his remaining hand to find the embedding.

Yvonne saw that the eyeballs, which were deeply embedded in their sockets, reflected what had previously been hidden by darkness and fanaticism: survival, pain, confusion, and his own figure, stretched by the sphere in the faint light, long and dark.

[I've done this once, it's not a big deal]

With this in mind, he grasped the exposed handle of the candlestick and pulled it out slowly and forcefully.

The bronze structure, which was not designed to pierce and was not as hard as steel, was deformed by the violent impact, getting stuck between hard objects, and the entire upper body was lifted by this action.

Like a shovel drilled into the dirt, she tried to twist the handle from side to side, but the slightly wet metal surface was a little slippery, not as loose as it was ideal, and seemed to get more entangled, and stopped completely.

She didn't know what it was, she didn't think about it and subconsciously didn't want to think about it, so she stepped on the position next to the candlestick and increased her force.

It didn't take long for the obstruction to disappear, the brittle and flexible things snapped, and the regular tremors under the feet gradually weakened and completely stopped.

The candlestick broke free of its shackles and returned to her control, strands of liquid converging at the tip of the fixed candle and falling to the ground in bits and pieces.

Logically, Yvonne felt that he should be frightened, cringe, and at worst nauseous. But in reality she did it all, manipulating her hands and feet like an unrelated bystander, like a marionette.

The heart is not at peace, some kind of intense emotion is surging, just because it has been a long time and seems strange.

The shredded whispers grew sharper and sharper, and the tips of the needles whined like scratches. It clearly manifests the sense of being, not only in the spirit but also in the body, that they are one.

Yvonne heard something from it for the first time, and it was a direction; Turning to look behind him, a new sneaky shadow appeared in the open door.

The intruder, who had found that he had failed to hide, rushed decisively and raised his murder weapon. He had doubts that his companions were not working, but he didn't think much about what was going on, and he just felt that no one should be standing here to stop them.

Perhaps in anticipation, he could quickly rely on his physical advantage to win, but the most fearful thing was that this witness would escape and recruit more helpers.

The girl clearly felt what she brought out of the dream, full of aggression, but under the suppression she had to choose to compromise existence, a part of herself that did not fully belong to herself.

Until the unknown price comes, the vector that takes root here also offers some side effects that are not intended – power, the power to bring about change, and now is the time to use it, even if the professor will support it.

That emotion was still pouring out, and growing with the wanton wielding of the heavy object in his hand, making the spirit lighter.

Digging through the thick barriers, rushing out from the depths of the closed heart, dissipating the gloom of depression and crushing self-questioning, it is not any kind of processed emotion, it is pure catharsis.

She unleashed this power to her heart's content, using it willingly and resolutely, and understood deeply why her guardians didn't want to see anyone touch it—something that subverts common sense has an irresistible charm, even when she knows that such a pursuit will lead to negative consequences.

Seemingly tall, invincible obstacles shattered before it, steel blades curled back, finger bones snapped, and skin torn.

He wailed backwards, clutching his partially disappeared limbs, and leaned in pain, the situation reversed.

I couldn't hear the specific content, but it was mostly a scattered tone of words, incomprehensible swearing, and unwilling begging for mercy. The shrunken words that seemed to be understood were too loud, active in every muscle, resonating in the spirit, so that she had no time to listen to the last boring curse.

The hard bone plate shattered, and the brass silenced the voice of the bearer of the power, freeing it from the fire.

There is no second form that dares to make a sound.

The hallway fell silent, and in the air filled with the smell of rusty iron, there was a strange and familiar chuckle of satisfaction.

Yvonne stood for a moment, found a clean place to place the candlestick, lifted the limp monk from the ground, and waited for a bunch of late hurried steps to ascend the stairs.

"Nothing, I solved it." She'd wanted to say that for a long time.

(End of chapter)