At the same time, deep within the Layer of Ancients, shrouded in oppressive darkness, a familiar face emerged. Dark hair framed empty obsidian eyes, each etched with two purple slits, as they searched curiously for the voice that had dared to summon him.
"Hmm?"
Azazeal tilted his head as he took a step forward atop the colossal arena, his gaze sweeping over the vast expanse. At the far end, in the center of the immense cave, a lone coffin rested, encircled by statues of dark creatures and crumbling old ruins.
Eerie shadows danced across the broken stone, and the air seemed to hum with the weight of countless millennium, as if the dark arena itself were holding its breath.
His lips curved into a perfect arch, yet the beautiful smile did not match the darkness that clung to him like a living shadow, nor the emotionless emptiness in his gaze.
"Why the silence now?"
