The room to the next door opened with a groan, the sound reverberating through the ancient ruins like the whisper of forgotten gods. Dust cascaded from the ceiling, caught in beams of sunlight that sliced through the darkness. The adventurers, hearts still racing from the intense battle with Amun, could only stare at the figure before them with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
Albrecht stood at the center of the room, his silhouette framed by the dim light. His breath came in steady, controlled intervals, a stark contrast to the ragged gasps of the adventurers around him. His armor bore the marks of the battle, but his eyes were calm, almost serene—a man who had seen countless battles and emerged victorious from each.
