Azreal found himself in a strangely familiar place.
It was the realm he had met that clearly insane woman, but it was also largely different somehow.
Not just in appearance, but also in the feeling he had simply by being here.
The air was polluted with a thin fog much like in the dungeon's boss room, but unlike in the boss room, this fog wasn't arctic blue,
This fog lacked any color; it was pure white, so much so that if one were to focus intently, they would be able to see through it quite easily.
The floor, unlike last time, wasn't covered in thin blades of green grass; it was instead filled to the brim with peony flowers.
Their stems and the leaves that grew from them were a blank white, matching and surpassing the fog's colors.
As one looked at the stems, one would think they were made out of bleached paper, as there was no way a color that pure could be made naturally.
