Far from the quiet village, far from the illusion of ordinary life that continued peacefully beneath open skies, another place existed where the air itself seemed unwilling to move freely.
Darkness dominated the space.
Not the natural darkness of night, but something heavier.
Something suffocating.
The atmosphere itself felt corrupted, thick with a presence that distorted the very flow of mana, twisting it into patterns that no longer followed the natural order of the world.
The ground was uneven, blackened stone spreading outward like infected flesh, cracked surfaces glowing faintly with veins of dim crimson light that pulsed slowly, rhythmically, as though the land itself possessed a heartbeat.
At the center of this corrupted domain stood a throne.
