The false sky of the pocket dimension had shifted.
Once a dull gray ceiling, it now blazed with streaks of crimson, like veins spreading across a bleeding canvas. Seth had been walking through it for what felt like hours, dispatching monsters without effort, his movements so clean and sharp that not a drop of their blood managed to touch him. His footsteps crunched through the brittle earth as he sighed.
“So far… nothing but fodder,” he muttered, flicking the ichor of his last opponent off his knuckles. “If this keeps up, I’ll finish before dinner.”
The words left his lips with irritation rather than pride. He wanted challenge. Something that tested his Hell Martial Arts, his magic, his resolve. What he had instead were oversized lizards, lumbering trolls, and packs of wolves too weak
