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Chapter 96 - Chapter 96 – The Lowest Realm

The desert stretched endlessly, the sun blazing high over its dunes. Heat shimmered across the horizon, bending the world into waves. Two figures cut across the wasteland, their shadows long against the sand.

Kairo walked at the front, his torn white garments whispering in the wind. His crimson eyes glowed faintly, unblinking, carrying the weight of something unseen. Around him, the air carried a pressure — faint, but inescapable — as if invisible chains clattered softly against the ground, felt but never seen.

Igron followed, tall and lean, the Bone Blade strapped across his back. His stride was long, his body slim but honed, his presence sharp and controlled. He glanced ahead at Kairo's back, the silence stretching between them until he finally spoke.

"So… this is the world above," he said, voice dry, shaped by heat and distance. "Doesn't feel like much. Just sand and hunger."

For a while, Kairo gave no answer. Then, in a tone low and steady, he replied:

"Hell was honest. This isn't."

Igron's brow furrowed. "Honest?"

"In Hell, suffering was bare," Kairo said. "Here, they dress it in laws, crowns, and trade. But it's the same."

The silence returned, broken only by the crunch of sand beneath their boots. At last, Igron's voice cut through again, sharper.

"What's the plan? We step into this world blind, we'll draw attention. The wrong kind."

Kairo's gaze fixed on the horizon, where faint walls rose like scars against the sky.

"Information first," he answered. "We learn how this realm breathes. Before chains. Before blades."

Igron's jaw tightened. He gave a slow nod. "So we wait. Watch first… then strike."

The dunes fell away into stone roads cracked with age. The sounds of the world began to reach them — caravans groaning under weight, merchants shouting prices for water, slaves trudging with collars digging into their necks.

Igron's eyes narrowed, disgust sharpening his tone. "Chains again. No matter the world, they always find their way back."

Kairo did not turn. His crimson eyes only glinted faintly, the unseen pressure around him deepening for a moment, like a reminder that his chains were never gone. "Chains never leave," he said, almost a whisper.

The city gates grew closer. Two guards lounged against the stone, armor dented and rusted. When they saw the figures approaching, they straightened, unease pricking at their skin. Something unseen coiled around their chests, as though the air itself dragged heavy iron across their lungs.

One guard stepped forward, forcing a grin. "Travelers. Gate toll — five silver each."

Igron tilted his head. "We have no coin."

The man smirked, though sweat already beaded his brow. "Then leave something else behind."

He never finished the thought. Kairo's eyes lifted, red and merciless. The guard stiffened as though strangled by an invisible weight, his words choking in his throat. His partner staggered back, pale, unable to explain why his body refused to move.

Kairo walked past them without a word. The presence of unseen chains lingered in the air, and the guards did not stop him.

Beyond the gates, the Common Realm waited.

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