Stark stood across from Father Hugo, staring up at the towering figure.
The air in the basement felt suffocating, thick with the stench of decay and the oppressive weight of something far worse.
Father Hugo, the Moonscorch Commander, was a living nightmare.
His dark, priestly robes clung to his massive frame, and his face, twisted and swollen with corruption, barely resembled anything human.
Stark wiped the sweat from his brow, eyes scanning for weaknesses.
But he found none.
There was a flicker of hesitation, but he shook it off.
Level 600.
That number burned in his mind.
It was far beyond his capabilities, but he didn't have the luxury of retreating now.
He couldn't show fear. Not after coming this far.
Father Hugo tilted his head, his voice an eerie croak, "Children who stray must be... corrected."
Without warning, the priest lunged forward.
Stark had barely a second to brace himself.
