The man appeared to be in his thirties, pale and gaunt, with faint blue veins visible beneath his skin. His sunken black eye sockets flickered with an eerie green light.
He wore a black robe embroidered with ancient runes, decorated with silver skull patterns. In his hand was a slender Magic Wand, its tip adorned with a skull, inside which dark green flames burned fiercely.
"Woo—woo—" Strange sounds echoed, like the shrill screams of ghosts.
Phantoms, transparent and illusory, swirled around the man, weaving through the air. He seemed like the mythical Ferryman on the River Styx, escorting Dead Souls to their final reincarnation.
Eyes met briefly. Lynch and the man stared at each other across the distance.
"Whoosh—whoosh!"
A fierce wind howled. The Soul Fire burning in the skulls flared violently. The Dead Spirits shifted their attention collectively onto Lynch.
After a tense standoff...
Lynch withdrew his gaze and decisively conceded defeat.
