The heavy silence of the m******e still lingered when Seth pushed open the blood-stained doors at the far end of the Black Market’s chamber. His boots squelched on the marble, leaving red footprints that trailed into the unknown. Behind him, corpses rotted in broken heaps, Blessed Artifacts lay shattered like toys, and the once-mighty hall was reduced to a slaughterhouse.
Ahead, however, lay promise.
The doors groaned wider, revealing a descending stairwell carved from obsidian stone. Each step was lined with runes that glowed faintly, powered by enchantments meant to ward off intruders. Seth chuckled at the faint sting as he placed his foot on the first step.
“Holy wards,” he muttered. “And yet your ‘leaders’ fell like insects. What makes you think your magic will stop me?”
His Hell D
