For a long moment, the group could only stare in stunned silence at the red altar. Blood seeped through deep grooves in the stone, pooling in the circular depression at its center, drawing their eyes to it almost hypnotically. The eerie runes that Zaphara had recognized seemed almost alive—as if a dark will was pulsing through them.

  “What the hell is this place?” Lunara broke the silence, her voice trembling as Seraphion glanced at Aaron, whose breathing was growing weaker. Beads of sweat glistened on Aaron’s forehead, and his remaining arm quivered with pain.

  “Looks like… a ritual altar,” Zaphara whispered. “That spot in the center…” She cautiously moved closer, pointing to the circular hollow. “...it seems to be a drain. The blood is probably flowing in there.”

  “Aaron is…” Seraphion’s voice wavered. “...getting weaker. His pulse is fading. Honestly, I don’t think he’s going to make it.” A heavy helplessness overcame him. Aaron had already lost an immense amount of blood.

  Suddenly, Zaphara’s eyes widened. “Lay him on the altar.” The words burst from her, almost like a command.

  Lunara looked at her in horror. “Are you out of your mind?! He’s already half-dead!”

  But Zaphara insisted, “Trust me. The blood is meant to flow into that drain. Maybe… maybe it will trigger something. It’s his only chance.”

  For a fleeting moment, Seraphion hesitated, then gave a sharp nod. “Lunara, step aside.” Carefully, he lifted Aaron onto the altar, where the blood from the rivulets had already begun to pool. He positioned Aaron’s torn stump over the drain, allowing the warm blood to flow into it, staining the engraved runes black.

  Barely a dozen heartbeats later, the entire room trembled as if caught in a massive earthquake. The group was thrown off their feet, and the ceiling groaned as if it were about to collapse on them. Aaron lay motionless at the edge of the altar, his head tilted to the side—and in the center of the stone structure, something began to flicker.

  An unnatural, blood-red glow danced across the altar’s surface as a rumbling sound, like distant thunder, echoed through the chamber. Zaphara clung to a protrusion on the altar, while Lunara and Talon slid across the slippery floor. Seraphion struggled to keep hold of Aaron, preventing him from falling again.

  Just as the tremors began to subside, one final shudder rippled through the walls—and suddenly, standing beside Aaron’s body, was a tall figure.

  Had they not already been knocked to the ground, the sight of this apparition would have surely brought them to their knees. The being wore a blood-red suit, stained and torn in places, over a gray shirt with a black tie. But that was far from the most disturbing detail. Its head was covered by a white mask, its hollow black eye sockets revealing nothing but an abyss of emptiness. A grotesque smile stretched across the lower half of the mask, its overlong, jagged teeth oozing dried blood. It was as if a doll were smiling—a grin born from the deepest nightmares of Hell itself.

  In the flickering red light, the creature looked like a primordial specter that had crawled up from a well of blood. Slowly, it lifted its head, the crackling sound of stiff neck joints echoing through the hall.

  Finally, it let out a deep laugh—so twisted and guttural that it mocked every shred of humanity. “Well, well… to whom do I owe this delightful offering?” a voice echoed from beneath the mask, resonating unnaturally within the vast chamber.

  A chill ran down everyone’s spine as the creature’s gaze fell upon them. Its smile seemed to widen, and then the room trembled slightly once more. Its power felt like the sound of breaking bones and the ominous hum of dark magic.

  Seraphion and Lunara exchanged horrified glances; they knew this entity was far more dangerous than the monster they had fought before. Talon’s mind raced for a curse or an arrow—but he was out of arrows, and his magic seemed laughably weak against such a presence.

  “How rude…” The creature tilted its head with a jerky motion, its hollow eye sockets fixed on them. “I ask a question, and no one answers?”

  Its voice now carried a mocking tone. Then it lowered its gaze to Aaron, who was still groaning on the altar. “Ah, I see… The blood is yours, isn’t it, my friend? You look rather… mangled.” A gleeful chuckle oozed from behind the mask.

  Lunara summoned all her courage and took a trembling step forward. “Please… Help him! He’ll die otherwise!”

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  The creature cocked its head, and a faint red light flickered within its empty eye sockets. “Oh, of course, darling… It’s only a matter of price.” Its smile, already unnaturally wide, seemed to stretch even further, as though it could split the entire face apart.

  Lunara gasped, a realization striking her like lightning. “D… Demon? Are you… a demon?”

  A guttural laugh answered her. “Oh, you’re quick on the uptake, aren’t you? Indeed. My name is Blodral, one of the Five Demon Kings. The Blood King, if titles mean anything to you.” He let the words echo off the walls as if performing on a grand stage. Then he leisurely circled around Aaron. “But if it’s about that… shouldn’t we be asking what he’s willing to pay, don’t you think?”

  With a casual snap of his fingers, Blodral released a fine red mist that swirled over Aaron’s blood-soaked body, jolting him back to a rudimentary state of consciousness. With a scream, Aaron bolted upright, his gaze locking onto Blodral’s horrifying mask—his words freezing in his throat like shards of ice. After a choked gasp, he finally managed to croak, “W… What…? Help me!”

  "How ungrateful." Blodral shook his head in mock reproach. "Do you think I’m your enemy? Here I am, about to give you a gift. So much for gratitude when one could be saved from death...""Aaron!" Lunara cried desperately. "Listen to him! He might be able to help you—please, don’t do anything foolish!"

  With a sharp hiss, Blodral turned toward her. "I don’t recall giving you permission to speak, girl." His voice cut into Lunara’s nerves like a scalpel. She fell silent involuntarily, a shiver running down her shoulders.

  Blodral’s focus returned to Aaron. "Now then, my good man. I am Blodral. One of the true rulers of the Demon World, King of Blood—and your life literally lies in my hands. Normally, I would offer you my hand, but… well…" He cast a sardonic glance at Aaron’s severed arm stump. "…that would be rather inappropriate, don’t you think?" A malicious chuckle followed.

  Aaron’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but the desperate determination returned to his face. "What… do I have to do… for you to heal me?"

  A rasping cackle echoed through the chamber. "I’m so glad you asked. I have… an offer. You allow me to live inside your body—as a guest, let’s say. In return, I grant you… certain powers. Sounds like a dream come true, doesn’t it?"

  Talon’s heart sank. This is too good to be true, he thought. But before he could voice his concern, Aaron was already asking, his voice ragged, "What’s the catch? There’s always a catch with this kind of deal."

  Blodral feigned surprise. "Catch? Ha! You think I’m a bad businessman? Well, can I blame you when your situation is utterly hopeless? No. But you’re right: You’re not exactly in a position to negotiate. So I’ll ask again: Do we have a deal?"

  Aaron’s face twisted in pain, his eyes flickering toward his companions, who were themselves exhausted, wounded, and uncertain of what to do. What choice do I have? he seemed to think. I don’t want to die here…

  He stretched out his remaining hand, trembling. "Yes… we have a deal."

  A blinding light erupted from Blodral, accompanied by swirling crimson mist that danced like spiraling fountains of blood around the demon. His mask contorted into a silent, grotesque grin as he extended a hand. With that gesture, he gathered flames and liquid crimson into a pulsating orb, which suddenly plunged into Aaron’s chest.

  Aaron screamed, his body convulsing in eerie resonance, and a crescendo of demonic power filled the room, forcing everyone to shield themselves. Seraphion raised an arm to protect his eyes, Lunara lifted her hands, but none could truly defend against the terrifying spectacle. In the flickering light, Zaphara caught a glimpse—just for an instant—of Aaron’s eyes glowing blood red.

  Then the noise abruptly ceased. The demon grinned with satisfaction, withdrawing his hand, and Aaron's body collapsed limply, unconscious on the altar."Aaron!" Lunara rushed to his side, followed quickly by Seraphion and Talon. To their incredulous relief, his arm was back. The bleeding had stopped, and even his wounds appeared healed. His face had regained color, and his breathing was steady—only he was still unconscious.

  Blodral casually brushed imaginary dust off the shoulder of his crimson jacket. "I’m glad we came to an agreement. Well then, that formality is settled… I look forward to an excellent partnership." A sinister gleam ran across his mask, then his form twisted into a swirling cloud of blood that sank into Aaron's chest. With one final thunderous pulse, he vanished.

  Aaron breathed, his arm was restored, but he lay unconscious on the altar."Quick!" Seraphion shouted. "We need to get him out of here. Who knows if that exit is really open again…"Talon looked up. "Wait. You’re… an angel, right? Don’t you have knowledge about demons?"

  Seraphion looked uneasy. "I have angelic blood, but I’m not a full angel. I know a bit, but I didn’t spend much time learning from my father. Enough to understand how dangerous this is… whatever just happened."

  Zaphara narrowed her eyes. "So, why did that Blodral want to get into Aaron’s body?"

  Seraphion was silent for a moment. "Either because he finds it amusing—which makes him completely unpredictable. Or…" He sighed. "Because he needed this body to continue living. And that might be even worse."

  A shiver ran down each of their spines. Lunara looked at Aaron's motionless body, her voice trembling. "…Is… is it possible that this place down here was a prison for that demon?" She sounded as though she already knew the answer.

  No one spoke. But the silent agreement was clear in their eyes: We’ve probably freed Blodral.

  Talon stood up, fists clenched, staring back into the ominous corridors. "Then we must never speak of this… to anyone."

  Seraphion remained grimly silent. Lunara lowered her head, and Zaphara couldn’t shake the thoughts of Crystella and her own pact. The consequences of this day weighed heavier than they could have ever imagined.

  Finally, Seraphion lifted the unconscious Aaron onto his back, grunting under the weight. "Come on, let’s get out of here. After everything that’s happened, we need to leave. Let’s hope that entrance is opened again."