The nightclub was in ruins, the once vibrant and chaotic scene now reduced to debris and silence. The entrance, which had once been guarded by imposing bouncers and marked by flashing neon lights, was now a collapsed mess of concrete and steel.
Rubble covered the doorway, blocking any chance of escape until the Reaper's dark steed had charged through, its ethereal form tearing through the debris like it was paper.
The destruction left in its wake was complete; the path now clear for its escape with the captive—a man who, judging by his attire and demeanor, was deeply entrenched in the underworld.
The others who had crossed the Reaper's path weren't so fortunate; their bodies lay strewn about, broken and lifeless, blood staining the floors where once there had been dancing.
