Ronan shifted his attention back to the black strange snail in front of him.
He finally walked up to the strange snail, its size being dozens of times larger than him, with the black shell standing like a high wall before him.
The shell's surface had uneven spiraling patterns scattered with specks of light. Ronan gently placed his hand on it, feeling the cold and slick texture.
It seemed something inside the snail was sleeping, as heavy breathing echoed every few seconds.
The ghostly skirmishing outside didn't seem to disturb it, as it slumbered so peacefully.
Ronan slowly traced the patterns on the shell, his expression focused, like a child reaching out to touch an ancient wall filled with infinite mysteries.
At a certain moment, he withdrew his hand.
In the lake of his heart, ice and magma surged up from the depths, distinctly dividing, then intertwining into a chaotic vortex.
