In the darkness, strange beings dragged me into the unknown. They moved on all fours, and through the folds of their cloaks I saw flesh—red, raw, and skinless.
Only a few dim lanterns illuminated the enclosed space. Water dripped from the ceiling, pipes snaked along the walls. Had they pulled me underground?
Before long, I opened my eyes. I was tied to a wooden chair, my body restrained by iron cables. I couldn't move.
Facing me sat a man, cloaked in shadow. He wore a dark suit, his emerald eyes glowing faintly in the firelight. We were alone in a room where only a single torch cast flickers across the walls.
It was… the leader of Umbra.
As I came to, I struggled against the chains—but my strength failed me.
"No need to fight," the leader said with a calm, composed gaze. "You won't leave this place alive."
Behind him stood the Crimson Reaper, guarding the entrance. And I could sense the presence behind me—a silver-haired boy: Death Icon.
