The God of Death moved through his emporium like a curator of nightmares, skeletal fingers trailing over artifacts that hummed with barely contained violence.
Each item he touched seemed to recognize its master, glowing briefly before settling back into dormant malevolence.
"Now then," Hades said, his voice carrying the weight of eons, "let's discuss what you'll need to survive long enough to reach that demon castle."
Jack followed behind him, eyes cataloging the impossibly diverse collection.
Weapons that leaked shadow, armor that seemed to breathe, trinkets that whispered promises in languages that predated civilization itself.
"The demons you'll face aren't like Cho," Hades continued, pausing beside a display case filled with rings and amulets.
"They'll hunt in packs, coordinate their attacks, and adapt to your tactics. You need equipment that'll give you a little edge."
