(In A Certain Underground Chamber In Noctis)
"Praise! The Demon God!"
"Praise! The Immortal Venerable!"
"Salvation! Salvation! Salvation."
The large chamber beneath Noctis reeked of spiced liquor and fresh blood—sacrifices to a certain golden image.
Men draped in flowing cloaks bowed before an eerie effigy, their heads slamming violently on the ground, as if to declare their devotion.
In their midst were devotees of varied sizes. Humans from diverse backgrounds who persistently latched onto their delusion of justice and peace.
Even though they resembled crazed fools, something about them was also awe-inspiring.
Their cloaks and ominous veils were tainted crimson just like their surroundings. The altar they stood upon dripped with blood, and their shadows stubbornly clung to the floor, still eerie and haunting.
Loud chimes and distant echoes of the past sang melodies and played instruments, as a certain group danced joyously to the mysterious music.
