Bright red flames spread like a tide, the scorching waves devouring all impurities on the ground, thoroughly purifying this den of Magic Creatures named as the Sanctuary.
The Divine Throne no longer exists, replaced by rampaging Fiery Flames. Flames, as if possessing their will, surged forth turning everything they touched into ash, as if reveling in a frenzy.
At the center of this Fire Sea, a noble golden-red bird slowly stretched out its wings, edges sharp as a blade. Once symbolizing warmth and hope, like the morning sun, its golden feathers unknowingly stained with a light crimson, like the blood-colored setting sun, casting an unsettling glow.
The Phoenix stood in the midst of flames, the scorching air casting a slightly distorted silhouette, holy yet with a hint of eerie charm, captivating one's soul.
Then, it lowered its head to probe with its beak among the charred ashes, gently pecking up a black Demon Core, and with a tilt of its head, swallowed it contentedly.
