"What was that just now?" Max asked, breath heavy but voice steady.
He wasn't shaken.
Not on the surface.
But deep inside, even he couldn't pretend the terror hadn't reached him.
Blob hesitated.
For once, it didn't have a clear answer.
Then, slowly, it spoke.
"It should be… a Sinful Bone Frame."
"Sinful Bone Frame?" Max asked, eyebrows furrowing.
The name itself felt heavy, cursed.
"What is that?"
Before Blob could answer—
Figures stumbled out.
From the fog.
Eight total.
From the original ten.
Their bodies were intact, but their faces—ashen, drained, like they had walked through a graveyard and shaken hands with death.
Some fell to their knees.
Some just stared into the sky, as if confirming they were still alive.
Max didn't blame them.
Even he… felt the weight.
They had survived.
But what they saw—
What they felt—
Would never leave them.
That song still echoed faintly in their memories.
That rotting genius, tearing his own body apart.
