In the forty-first layer of the Abyss, a realm drowned in fire and ruin, the land itself seemed alive with malice. Countless volcanoes towered into the ashen sky, their jagged peaks vomiting rivers of molten lava that spread endlessly across the blackened plains.
The air was thick with sulfur and heat so intense it warped perception, bending sight and sound alike. Every breath carried pain.
At the heart of this inferno, two figures clashed.
One of them was a nightmare given form.
The Demon Lord stood tall amid the lava flows, his body jagged and skeletal, forged of charred, obsidian flesh split apart by glowing fissures of ember-red light. From his chest sprouted multiple elongated limbs, twisted and unnatural, each gripping a crimson blade that burned as if a volcano had been sealed within its core. The heat radiating from those weapons distorted the air, and every swing left molten scars in space itself.
