The blood rain continues to fall in a drizzle.
The air is thick with the heavy scent of blood and burnt odor, mixed with the wet chill of the rain, forming a nauseating atmosphere.
Countless sparks dance in the night, like fireflies on a summer night.
Yet they carry the residual warmth of death, landing on the streets littered with shards of flesh and bone, making a sizzling sound before immediately extinguishing.
The blood water forms into streams, gurgling along the uneven asphalt surface.
In the heart of this hellish scene, a strong and athletic man stands barefoot.
The remnants of golden red flames on his body are the only light source in this darkness and blood-red scene.
His bald head reflects an intimidating sheen in the flames, like an Asura bathed in blood.
From the depths of the dark clouds, a flash of pale lightning tears across the sky.
Rumble—
The dull sound of thunder follows immediately.
