WHOOOOOOSH!
A three-mile-wide wall of pitch-black curse mist roared across the sluggish golden magma sea like a hurricane of rotting bones.
Inside the Marrow-Withering Black Mist, millions of tiny, screaming blood-skulls snapped their jaws. Wherever the bottom edge of the black fog brushed against the gray granite rocks jutting out of the magma, the solid stone instantly hissed, turned soft as wet bean curd, and melted into smelly black mud!
Up on the base of the ten-mile Nail, the Blood-Siphon Fiend laughed out of all ten of its mouths at once, holding one giant claw over its garlic-burned middle eye.
“Cough up your lungs and turn to puddles, lower-realm bugs!” the Fiend cackled, its voice echoing across the fifty-mile-deep cavern. “This Marrow-Withering Mist was brewed from ten thousand years of planetary death-qi! Back when your world’s immortals tried to storm this chamber five thousand years ago, three hundred Golden Core elders breathed in a single mouthful of this fog—and their dantians rotted out through their backsides in three seconds flat! Die!”
The black fog swallowed the entire Dry-Well Abyssal Elevator deck in a single gulp, blotting out the bright electric lamps along the shaft walls.
For five seconds, nothing could be seen inside the pitch-black cloud.
