After hours of gliding through Nara's blood-red skies—where crimson clouds twisted with the faint echo of distant war cries and the continents below lay scarred by ceaseless conflict—Nia and Katherine began their descent toward the grand palace of the Narakava Asuras.
The palace rose like a massive fortress of jagged obsidian and crimson steel, its spires clawing at the heavens like vengeful talons.
The walls were etched with runes of unending fury, glowing with the raw essence of battle lust, pulsing like living veins beneath the crimson haze.
Up ahead, massive gates of bone-forged adamantine loomed—towering slabs etched with the skulls of fallen enemies, still dripping faint spectral ichor—guarded by a dozen towering Asuras.
They resembled small giants, their pale skin marred by black, rage-twisted veins bulging like living ropes, and void-black eyes with tiny red pupils glinting with a wild, ravenous hunger.
