"Never thought a bitch could get this gross," Mukri blurted out. With over 2,000 birthdays behind him, his portfolio of experiences carried a fair amount of sordid things—none could match the atrocity taking shape before his bull eyes. Across the growing mass of rosy flesh, the livid faces of the Soul Refining Hall's elders and their legions of victims contorted in ever-changing grimaces that alternated between grief and madness. Blood tears dripped down their cheeks. Their eyes popped out, merging with and gathering at the center of the mass of flesh to become a single eyeball that stared at Birandar with stark hunger. Expanding to 100 meters, the flesh mass soared into the sky.