Somewhere amidst the vast landscape of the Hell Realm, a former Gold-Ranked Adventurer stood on a hill, a pair of horns curling around the sides of his head in an awkward and spiraling manner.
His skin was a deeper red than blood, but his beard remained thin, and his hair was still held up in a ponytail like it had been for most his life.
In the distance, the Adventurer faced an approaching army of beings that were even further from human than he was. Their faces were grotesque, and each grunt was a guttural scream that couldn't be compared to any common language across the Mortal or Ascended Realms.
Their skin was pigmented the same color as everything else in Hell, and their horns were twisted and deformed in ways that even put the Adventurer to shame. What more, in their hands were metal or wooden weapons of poor craftsmanship, while their chests and legs were wrapped in tough leather.
