Claude reached into his storage ring and pulled out a space stone, its surface shimmering with condensed spatial energy. He handed it to Isabella along with a handful of mid-grade mana stones. The soulless woman accepted them without reaction, her mechanical hands closing around the items automatically.
The Clown knelt on the ground—CLOMP—his fingers carving intricate runes into the dirt with blinding speed—SCRAPE, SCRAPE, SCRAPE. The formation took shape—a circular array of interconnected glyphs, each one pulsing with faint green light as his soul power infused them.
"Channel the space stone and your portal powers into the formation," the Clown instructed, his painted grin never faltering.
