****
The eternal decay devoured every particle, every whisper of existence. Martheuw Cereun stood within the vast rot of the void — a realm that breathed corruption. The air moved like liquid shadow, thick with the stench of death and the slow groaning of lost souls. Beasts' carcasses drifted through the gloom, their bones dissolving into drifting ash.
"This dungeon…" Martheuw muttered, his voice echoing like a ripple through still water. "It is an eternity of decay. There is no life, no purity here. Everything is consumed — dissolved into rot, as if the universe itself has forgotten beauty."
Then, from the endless dark, a voice slithered through the silence — cold, vast, and ancient.
"Do you truly believe you can escape my spell?" it said.
The sound was like rusted metal scraping against the stars.
"You are mine, Martheuw Cereun. You belong to the decay — to the voiceless, the broken, the forsaken. Your name will fade like dust. No soul will remember you."
