The deep, subterranean stone stairs leading down into the darkest core of the Abyssal Sun Soul Prison were completely cold. The damp, stagnant air here did not merely smell of dust; it was thick with a suffocating, metallic weight that carried the raw stench of ancient, burning spiritual chains and rusted realm law matrices.
Tony Clark walked down the narrow, dark path with slow, deliberate steps. His hands were casually tucked into the deep pockets of his dark hunting cloak. His signature lazy posture was perfectly restored, yet his dark eyes were bright with a calculating, predatory intensity that pierced through the absolute darkness. Behind him, Lady Vivienne Vane followed closely, her leather boots padding softly against the frosted granite. Her heart was pounding in a state of frantic, breathless suspense as her master-grade alchemical senses scanned the raw cosmic density of the descending tunnel.
