For a long while, there was only silence.
No thunder, no screaming void. Just… air.
Atlas blinked against the brightness, eyes adjusting. The dark gate behind them had sealed itself into a single thin line of shadow, humming faintly, as if alive. And before them
a desert.
Golden sand stretched to every horizon, rippling like liquid glass. Above, a pale blue sky burned with light—too clean, too soft, too familiar.
He inhaled. The air carried warmth, dryness, and the faint scent of dust and iron. For the first time since entering Hell, it felt real—like the mortal world. His world.
Lara turned slowly, her hair catching sunlight. "It's… beautiful," she whispered, disbelief and unease tangled in her voice.
Aurora shaded her eyes, scanning the shimmering expanse. "The mana here is stable," she murmured. "Almost… peaceful."
Even Michael, standing tall beside them, frowned slightly. "Hmmm..
Peace does not belong here."
