Spatial Whisperer narrowed his eyes. His perception spread across the area, tracing the flow of mana, the disturbances in space, and the lingering ripples of killing intent.
His vision shifted—beyond the physical, into the folds between mana and void.
"…There it is."
A faint, distorted energy pulsed beneath the chaos of the battlefield. It was faint—so faint that even the sharpest senses would have overlooked it. But to a master of space like him, it was clear as day.
Dark red threads were weaving through the soldiers' bodies—thin as spider silk, yet pulsing with a sinister rhythm.
"Control threads…" he muttered, clenching his fists. "They've been tainted."
He followed the threads back to their source, eyes flickering with spatial light. The lines converged deep beneath the earth, vanishing into a hidden layer of corrupted space. The demonic resonance leaking from it was unmistakable.
"Tch. I knew it. They're manipulating the entire army from below. I need to get out of here."
