The damp and chilling second waterway corridor, the gatekeeper took steps towards an even darker depth.
The black attire representing the City-State Defender was already tattered and torn, and the combat staff, made with special technology, was covered with scars. Pain and exhaustion seemed like distant illusions, with only echoes from deep beneath the earth resonating in her ears.
Blood seemed to be running out, but the heart was still beating. Death was so close that with every breath, it felt like one could sense the coldness of the world of the dead—in this dark and lonely corridor, there were no comrades-in-arms, and it had been a long time since she had seen an enemy.
But there was still something accompanying Agatha on her journey, on this march towards death, a cluster of flames that was not so bright but carried some warmth.
