This is the evil accumulated over a thousand years and even more distant millennia, fermenting and writhing in the deep darkness, yearning to return in sleep. Now, with the extermination of the 'path', it can no longer maintain calm and has thus become restless under the heavy shackles of Holy Silver.
Thick black fog assaults from beneath the well, quickly spreading to the surroundings, engulfing the new Pope's ankles. At this rate, it will soon completely swallow the Static Holy Temple, and continue to spread to the ground, across the entire Seven Hills.
"Enemies..."
The new Pope sighed softly, pulling out the Nail Sword embedded in the corpse, bringing up fresh blood and the molten metal of Holy Silver.
Looking ahead, one could see blazing white flames igniting in the pitch-black well, reflecting amidst the black fog, like a thundercloud on earth, brewing storms and thunder within.
