Futan, Futan… No matter how I tried to evade it, I always ended up back here, before the one and only master of the Abyss-Sea.
Charles's gaze followed the black line all the way down, and once again, he saw the Futan God. Just like Charles himself, the Futan God was also revealing His true form.
It was a black substance, part tower, part mountain. This darkness merged with the surrounding void, a darkness without the concept of color. Charles couldn't tell if this blackness was its own innate color or if it was simply the absence of space itself. Human visual organs could not perceive such an existence, which is why the mind distorted Futan through hallucinations, twisting It into the image of a winged, fleshy monster.
In truth, Futan didn't look frightening at all. If anything, He was unnervingly quiet, possessing the stillness of a true mountain.
Futan is not like me. Charles made this judgment the instant he saw Him.
