The robed figures froze mid-chant.
One by one, their hoods turned slowly, almost mechanically until a dozen hollow gazes aligned on the intruders lurking at the edge of the candlelit chamber.
A murmur of unease rippled through the air, though not a single follower of Gluttony spoke.
They simply stared… first at Doranjan, then at Eztein, their heads shifting back and forth in a stiff, unnatural rhythm, like predators assessing which prey would die first.
Eztein exhaled and stepped forward, boots splashing lightly in the dark, viscous liquid coating the floor.
"Well," he said, voice echoing faintly in the cavern, "who would've thought we'd stumble into the Gluttony Army down here."
No response.
Only silent, hungry eyes watching them, calculating.
Eztein glanced sideways at Doranjan without taking his gaze off the cultists.
"Leave this to me," he said calmly. "Find the exit. And maybe… find out why these lunatics managed to slip into the secret realm."
