We exited through an imposing archway, engraved with ascension glyphs that seemed to vibrate with ancient energy, as if each symbol carried within it a forgotten truth.
On either side, two colossal figures in abyssal armor stood motionless, their presence imposing and silent, like guardians of a sacred threshold.
A convoy awaited us, drawn by armored creatures, their red eyes glowing with a sinister gleam, their blackened iron horns turned toward the horizon, ready to break any resistance.
Their massive bodies moved with a contained, almost supernatural power.
We boarded, the weight of the moment heavy on our shoulders, ready to embark on the road toward what awaited us.
The journey was not long, but it was enough to plunge into the heavy and vibrant atmosphere of Zagnaroth, the demonic capital.
We traversed the main arteries of the city, where the buildings were sculpted from black volcanic rock, massive and imposing structures, carved like living relics.
