Asmodeus brushed the last remnants of blood from his cheek, the once bright walls now crimson red, elegant carpets filled with mounds of flesh and gore. Yet despite this, his loose pants remained spotless. Behind him, a trail of death. Ahead, a passage to the Black Hand Gang's base.
Glassy eyes devoid of emotion watched him leave. No longer able to dream of a quick earning or fleecing an easy mark.
'After all, the back market is great.'
He glanced back at the chaos, letting out a sigh. 'Maybe I shouldn't have gone so far...'
Huge craters, cracks and deformed bodies hung from the walls. If someone were to interpret and paint one of hell's floors, then this room must've been one of them.
"Are you going to keep hiding in the darkness?" Asmodeus spat out before he licked his lips.
'That aura isn't human.'
His eyes closed, the pulsating golden threads now clearer and much thicker with ends that split into whisker-like tendrils sifting through the air.
