"The squeak" of the door announced its opening, and Richard stepped through, entering the interior of Frank Tavern.
The thick stench of blood, almost tangible, hung heavily in the air. At a glance, corpses littered the ground.
The walls were smeared with patches of bloodstains, resembling the haphazard graffiti of children. Yet in this environment, they seemed more like demonic murals from some cult, creating an air chilling and uncanny. Corpses lay strewn about haphazardly, faces frozen in varied expressions—terror, anger, bewilderment, contempt, and of course, panic. The atmosphere was gruesome and chaotic.
Richard's gaze grew somber as he walked through the tavern, surveying the massacre, pondering what could have happened here. Momentarily, his eye caught something.
Richard quickly moved over to where Baki lay on the ground, covered in blood, and found that he was still breathing faintly.
