In the depths of the sect dungeon, where despair permeated the air and darkness reigned supreme, a figure emerged with a grandiose entrance. The heavy footsteps echoed ominously, announcing the arrival of Randolph, the embodiment of arrogance and entitlement.
His presence loomed like a dark cloud, casting a sinister shadow over the dimly lit corridor. The torches flickered, their feeble flames quivering in fear of the impending storm. With each step, Randolph's disdainful gaze swept across the rows of cells, as if he were surveying insignificant insects beneath his feet.
Finally, his piercing eyes locked onto the cell where Michael, the bug on his road to glory, was confined. A wicked smile curled upon Randolph's lips, exuding the satisfaction of a predator cornering its prey. The air crackled with the weight of his contempt, suffocating the very essence of hope within the cell.
