He was wizened and skeletal, shrouded in gray, black miasma. Sightless sockets burned with twin green flames.
This was Ghostshade, one of the infamous Five Shade Demons, master of soul-gnawing sorcery and already Level Three of the Heavenly Immortal Realm.
His body blurred, after-images trailed like torn banners as he materialized at the hall's center in a single heartbeat.
Stretching a stick-thin finger toward Neville, he hissed, "Mr. Contreras, your instruction, please..."
Before the last consonant faded, ghostly shrieks erupted. Vengeful spirits poured from his aura, a tidal wave of wailing spirits crashing toward Neville.
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