Chapter 103: The Truth of the Phantom Hands

A symphony of suffering echoed through the streets of Lanshire City. The once-bustling avenues were now littered with the fallen, their bodies wracked by violent, soul-deep coughs that tore through them like claws. A ghastly, grey-green mist, thin as a phantom's shroud, clung to the cobblestones and seeped through every door and window, carrying with it a plague of terrifying potency. Connor Shayle moved like a blur through the chaos, his face a grim mask of concentration. His golden spiritual...