In Hell, the Flaming Hall roared alive like a beast breathing fire. The ground pulsed with molten veins, and rivers of flame ran beneath the thrones of the Pillars of Hell—each of them seated in grim authority, their towering guards standing silent and still behind them. The air crackled with heat and the faint screams of tormented souls echoed faintly from the lower depths, a sound so common that it was almost music to their ears.
Damantia sat among them, his presence cold and composed despite the flames licking around him. Behind him stood Baalrik, a hulking shadow, his red eyes glowing faintly like twin embers in the dark.
Damantia finally spoke, his tone calm but edged with irritation.
"It seems a lot has happened without my knowledge. After the Infernal War, the key still wasn't recovered—and there's been no trace of the Evolutionalist. And now, even the world of the living faces corruption… humans transfiguring into infernals, only to die afterward."
