In the spacious living room where Charles and 005 stood, the murals on the surrounding walls and the delicate colors on the furniture all kept fading, revealing the dark red "true color" beneath.
With the writhing of flesh, eyes of all shapes and forms burrowed out from within, fixing their gaze on 005, who stood shrouded in a black robe.
The more widely they opened, the more the veins on the walls crawled over, feeding these sensory organs of Charles's with nourishment.
Charles once saw 005's form, but human eyes were simply too crude—he could only see the surface.
But this time was different. Now, he saw deeper, and saw more.
The black bandages woven with floating inscriptions were merely a façade. Beneath them were black spheres like snowflakes, interconnected, trembling ever so slightly according to some profound rhythm.
Every "snowflake" tremor would set the neighboring ones quivering as well, and together they composed the movements of 005 as a whole.
