In the cramped, dark room,
a twisted Wandering Soul made up of countless limb fragments, filled with a terrifying chill, was swelling slightly like a ball being inflated in the pitch-black environment... and then slowly shrinking again.
The Yellow Robed Priest watched the scene silently.
Though it was merely a Spiritual Body, its abundant experience allowed it to recognize the state of the Wandering Soul before it.
"It... is still sleeping," the voice of the Yellow Robed Priest came, "and it looks like it's because it's not yet night, that it is currently fairly weak."
"However, all the Black Fog from the space above... will seep into the lower levels, the lower the level... the thicker the eerie atmosphere, and the greater the lethal danger."
"It is gradually getting stronger."
