In a corner of Deepwater City.
A group of players danced around a bonfire, performing strange and incomprehensible rituals. Near the fire, various sacrificial materials were laid out. The most eye-catching figure was a player from the Pantheon faction, kneeling at the center, bound and sealed with powerful magic to prevent escape. He couldn't flee, nor could he die.
"Mmm mmm mmm!" The player's mouth was gagged, unable to speak, but his eyes burned with hatred, glaring fiercely at Damien. He struggled desperately, trying to break free from his restraints.
"Heh, don't bother struggling. You can't escape," Damien said with a cruel smile, dressed in a large black robe. He slowly walked toward the fire, taking a deep breath.
Then, a long, obscure ancient prayer began to spill from his lips.
"Great ancient God of Death—Khas'tan!"
"I am your loyal servant, your angel left behind in this world."
