His eyes were bloodshot with agony and despair.
Consciousness faded...
He found himself bound to a ghastly white skeleton frame once again.
Silas the Dead Speaker stood before him, the spectral fire beneath his hood burning quietly.
"You killed Theodore."
Silas's voice was as cold as a corpse buried in frozen earth.
"The Curse of the Dead Squad was annihilated. The Withered Council requires compensation."
A skeletal finger rose, a fine, grayish-green needle coalescing at its tip.
"Soul extraction is done in three stages."
The moment his voice fell, a fine needle pierced the space between Ian's brows.
It felt like a cold chisel being driven into his temples, slowly prying open his skull.
"Hngh..."
His consciousness was torn open. Memories, like pages in a book, were flipped through and ripped to shreds one by one.
Scenes from his childhood, the explosion during his transmigration, every battle in the Wizard World...
Everything was laid bare, perused at will.
