>>Ariston
Drakkar exhaled, low and sharp. "I could never have guessed something like this."
I had an idea… but the scale of this was… beyond my expectation.
The underground realm stretched before us like some twisted, forgotten temple—its ceiling high and uneven, its walls covered in strange markings that pulsed faintly in the dimness. The air was thick, suffocating, as if tainted by something unnatural. But it wasn't the cavern itself that unsettled me.
It was the people.
Dozens of demons gathered here, low rank demons, their clawed hands reaching toward the center of the room like beggars before an altar. Their eyes, glowing faintly in the dark, were locked on the figure standing before them.
A lone figure, cloaked in deep black, hood drawn low over their face.
In their hands, they held a glass goblet, filled with thick, inky liquid—black as night, yet strangely iridescent, shifting with unnatural hues under the lantern light.
"Black milk."
A shiver ran down my spine.
