In an instant, everyone's pupils contracted. Immediately after, a wave of dizziness surged over me, and a strong sense of nausea forced me to close my eyes. When the dizziness finally subsided, I tentatively opened them and could not help being startled by the scene before me.
Before me was no longer the dark magic potion factory; the ground beneath my feet was no longer stone, but had turned into a surface of water as black as ink. The hems of my trousers were soaked in the water. Though called water, it felt more like some sort of oil—sluggish and sticky. While I couldn't feel much else, the sensation of this viscous substance flowing around my calves was truly indescribable. The sky overhead had turned a scarlet red, and the air was filled with a pungent, peculiar odor, like a mixture of the smell of blood and burning. Where the heaven and earth met, a giant black-and-white scale stood tall. Muhammad was sitting on the tray of one side of the scale, crossing his legs and resting his chin in his hand, looking at me expressionlessly. Dozens or hundreds of fine black threads seemed to be looped around his fingers, and at the end of every single thread was tied a pitch-black lump. Because there were simply too many, those objects collided against one another, emitting faint, crisp sounds.
Wading through the water, I walked step by step toward Muhammad. With every step I took, the water beneath my feet clung to me like tar, making even lifting my legs exceptionally difficult.
Chapter 28