Fifth Gate of Hell – Gate of Unholy Pyre
The sky above the Fifth Gate burned red. Smoke curled through the air like serpents, and fire raged across the battlefield. Dragos stood tall on the frontlines, his cape swaying behind him, his eyes narrow and calm—like thunder waiting to strike.
He raised one hand slowly.
"Go."
The command was low, barely above a whisper, but the soldiers surged forward with fire in their hearts. They clashed with the incoming infernals—flames roared, metal clanged, and blood splattered across the blackened earth.
From the infernal ranks, one stood taller. Human-shaped, with claws of fire and a smirk carved deep into his face. He moved like a phantom, slashing down soldiers one after another—no mercy, no pause.
BAM!
A flaming punch sent the infernal flying backwards. It dug its claws into the earth, flames flaring from its fingertips to stop itself. It looked up, eyes locking with Dragos.
