A Warped Path

Each step sent a shockwave through the ground, displacing bones and shattered remnants of colossal creatures that had long since met their end. The stench of ash and decay clung to the air, suffocating and thick. This place was wrong—the kind of wrong that burrowed into his very core and whispered warnings that even his formidable power couldn't ignore.

The Cursed Crown hummed in his grip, its dark energy pulsing in rhythm with his own heartbeat. Arthur's gaze swept across the landscape, eyes glowing with an unnatural light. The remnants of battle—weapons fused with molten rock, charred bones twisted into unnatural shapes—told stories of those who had come before him and failed. He felt a strange mix of superiority and caution. The deeper he ventured, the more he sensed it: a predatory awareness trailing him, weaving through the heavy fog like an unseen serpent.

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