The death of the Lich awakened Lancelot as if from a dream, the fog in his eyes gradually dissipating. His once flawless thoughts now seemed absurd and ridiculous, as if a painting real enough to be true was actually a crude imitation done in crayon.
As he stared in a daze, the Lich's body began to disintegrate, turning into flying ashes like burned wood. However, beneath those blackish-brown ashes, another figure emerged, like a nut wrapped beneath chocolate. This was a thin, sinister-looking human male, not much taller than little Isa, with skin as pale as chalk and pitch-black pupils filled with a terrifying madness that could make anyone reconsider opposing the owner of those eyes.
