With a final heave, the interior of the chamber was revealed, and the group pressed past the doorway and into the throne room.
The room was shaped in the form of a triangle, with the gate forming the base. Signs of battle were present in the room, with craters and clumps of rumble scattered across the floor. Some of the broken rocks and cement had a slight reddish glow, as if the heat from battle still smoldered within their core.
The cracked walls stretched high, arching to form the ceiling above. Both sides were decorated with statues-- what was left of them, at least --of foreign make and design, forming models of creatures that appeared... unnatural. Like the sculptor had pulled, twisted, and collapsed their limbs and torsos before the material had hardened, warping their proportions to an unnerving degree.
The walls grew closer the farther one walked, with grooved pillars spread on both sides, decked with dark golden flags at the pinnacle of each. And at the end of the room sat an imposing throne that rested at the end of the room, raised above the floor and placed in the corner where the walls merged.
The throne was made of the same material as the gate, with an inky sheen that sucked away any light around it. Its backrest rose high. Or, it should have. the top of it sloped down at a diagonal angle, like a sharp blade had cleaved it in half—an impressive feat, judging by the hardness of the foreign metal.
Gary's fiery gaze roamed the room with passion, soaking in the majesty. The splintered floor, cracked walls, and shattered statues and pillars did not mar the splendor of the room and only accentuated its beauty with the charm of history and time.
The group wandered further in with measured steps as they avoided the holes and rubble, twisting and turning their heads as if they were afraid to let the lack of light prevent them from missing a single detail.
Flags decorated the surroundings. Though most were torn and tossed carelessly about the room, some still hung precariously along the arches of the ceiling.
A black symbol of unknown meaning decorated it's center, resembling the swirling pattern of a hurricane, with each branching arm connecting to form a surrounding circle around the emblem. It sat on a material of bright crimson, contained by a border of dark wine.
Gary was particularly fascinated by banners, and not just because of the artistry. The sheen that they cast was too sharp for cloth or silk and was most likely woven from some precious metal.
He stretched his neck as he gazed up at it appraisingly. It was a pretty good find. Good enough to be worth the trouble of dragging it down.
A precious banner that had been witness to the battle of the millennia, discovered within the Demon King's throne room. Perfect for dazzling guests, feeding your ego, and decorating your bedroom. Buy it now before it's sold out! He licked his lips with the thought. Not exactly the worst sales pitch, if he said so himself.
A tug on his arm pulled him out of his sales speech, and he turned around to see Alfred-- who hadn't realized Gary had spun to face him --still yanking his arm.
"What?" He asked with annoyance. He was getting ready to scale the pillar, and did not take too kindly to the interruption.
Alfred slowly raises his hand to point in front of him as he stares blankly into the distance. "Look."
Gary knitted his brows together as he discerned the peculiar attitude, but dismissed it as he observed the area he had pointed to.
He analyzed the spot in front, but failed to see anything of note. Gary searched a bit longer as he peered through the still dark, despite the lack of anything significant. He mumbled to Alfred as he grew more frustrated, "What am I looking for here? You're not pointing at the throne, are you? Fucking eagle eye you got, spotting the big ass chair in the middle of the-- wait..."
For a second, he noticed an unusual shape within the midst of stone and rubble. Leaning forward, he looked through the piles of debris and spotted what had eluded him earlier.
It was a large gray chain, drawn taut across the splintered ground.
Gary gave it a quizzical look, before talking to Alfred. "Hm, that's a little out of place. But nothing to fuss over. Maybe it was hung from the ceiling and fell down along with the rest of the rocks. Suspended chains aren't too unbelievable; fits the aesthetic of the place quite nicely, I suppose." He reasoned.
It was not a bad deduction. The color of the chain blended perfectly with its surroundings, and what self-respecting demon didn't have a chain or two lying around?
Alfred shook his head, keeping his eyes glued to the front, "Then why are they nailed into the ground?"
Okay, that did poke a hole in his logic. But--
'They?' Gary frowned. He had only seen one. Deciding to get a better look after another pointless search, he climbed on top of a nearby pile of rock, stumbling and sliding his way to the peak. After finding his footing, he looked down upon the floor and found the other chains.
five of them, to be exact.
Each were evenly spaced out, forming a sort of pentagon as they pierced through the rubble and converged at the center, wrapping and twisting around themselves like a ball of stone snakes hungrily swarming their prey.
" Huh, well fuck me." Gary blinked in surprise. The chains, the nails, the ball: none of it made sense, no matter how much he pondered. If-- for some reason --it was a decoration for the throne room, then the structure should show signs of damage or scarring like the rest of the room, especially if it was placed in the center of the chamber.
If that was the case... 'Did this get put here after?' He pondered seriously. A worrying situation, if true.
'No, that wouldn't make sense,' Gary mused, 'If someone was here before us, why were none of the other floors touched? Not to mention the size of these chains; no storage bag is big enough to store a single one, so they would have to be dragged to the room. I'm no ranger, but surely some tracks would have been left. Noticeable tracks.'
Magic? Not likely. Objects made of mana had a rather annoying tendency to deteriorate. The chains would have reverted back to mana before the blood from battle had dried.
He chewed his thin lips as he deeply considered the issue, yet his thoughts only went around in circles. It was a small issue, but one that he couldn't really figure out. with an ignited curiosity, he slid down from the rock and approached the chains.