Villain Ch 1580. Wraithlord of The Crypt
The moment they passed through the portal, the world changed.
Gone was the clean twilight sky of Ront City, the festival-like atmosphere, the joy of flying dragons.
Now, the sky above them stretched deep and red—bleeding into black. Heavy clouds crawled like something alive, and from beyond the jagged horizon loomed a massive blood moon. It didn't glow; it bled. Each pulse of light from it felt more like a heartbeat—wrong and ancient, slow and hungry. The air turned dry and sharp like iron, like old blood scraped from a rusted blade.
And below them?
Death.
A vast, desolate wasteland stretched out, cracked and cursed. Blackened soil curled like scorched parchment. Twisted trees clawed at the air like they'd tried to escape the ground but failed. Rivers flowed backward, dark crimson and thick. The land reeked of sulfur and rot and some kind of sweet, cloying perfume that didn't belong.
Far in the distance stood the thing they'd come for.
