[The Heart of Calamity has reacted to your demands.]
[It senses its previous host nearby and will assist its new host, as it much prefers him.]
Fwish! Fwish! Fwish!
Dark tendrils erupted from the [Crown of Calamity], twisting and writhing like living shadows before launching forward with terrifying speed.
They didn’t move randomly.
No, there was purpose in their motion.
Like hunters locking onto their prey, they shot through the air, targeting a precise location marked on the [World Map].
And then, without hesitation, they struck the ground.
The moment they made contact, the earth convulsed.
A deep, guttural rumbling filled the air as jagged cracks spread outward.
The land beneath Alex’s feet trembled, almost as if recoiling in fear of what was about to happen.
Then with a thunderous crack, the ground split open.
A massive chasm tore through the earth, its edges raw and uneven, as though something had forcibly ripped it apart.
Dust and debris swirled in the air, and an eerie mist seeped up from the newly formed abyss, coiling like ghostly fingers.
The scent of damp stone and decay drifted upward, carrying with it a lingering sense of something ancient… something vile.
Rocks tumbled into the darkness below, vanishing without a sound.
The tendrils that had forced the land open slowly withdrew, retreating back to Alex.
The entrance had been revealed.
Alex stepped forward, peering down into the depths below.
Hidden beneath layers of rock, a flight of stone stairs spiraled downward into the unknown.
He exhaled.
“Huh.”
So, this was where they had been hiding.
It made sense now, why no one had ever found them.
This wasn’t just about secrecy, it was about control.
Whoever designed this place had done so with absolute confidence, ensuring no outsider could interfere.
Even a Grand Mage, someone powerful enough to warp to kill most people, would have struggled to locate this hideout.
But Alex wasn’t a Grand Mage.
He was someone far greater.
Without hesitation, he placed his foot on the first step and began his descent.
The air grew heavier with each step.
At first, the walls were rough, uneven rock, but as he ventured deeper, they changed, transforming into smooth, chiseled stone.
The transition was unnatural, almost too perfect, like something deliberately carved by hand rather than formed by time.
Torches lined the passageway, their flames flickering to life as he passed.
They cast long, eerie shadows against the walls, stretching and twisting as if alive.
The deeper he went, the more the air pulsed, not with heat, but with something else.
Something dark.
It was as if the tunnel itself was breathing.
In his mind, Alphox, the primordial dragon who had been watching in silence, finally spoke.
“Not afraid of traps?”
Alex smirked, “No. Why would I be?”
It wasn’t arrogance, it was simply the truth.
Even if there were traps, they wouldn’t matter.
The difference in power was too vast.
Besides, the [Crown of Calamity] was still active, its tendrils shifting restlessly around him, refusing to vanish like they usually would.
That could only mean one thing: it was eager to help.
Alex continued downward, taking his time, not out of caution, but because the atmosphere itself seemed to demand it.
The deeper he went, the more the walls seemed to hum with an unseen energy, as if they were alive.
Then, after nearly twenty minutes, he arrived at the end.
[The Hatred Sect Hideout]
The chamber he stepped into was vast.
Enormous stone pillars towered around him, each engraved with intricate, twisted symbols that radiated malice.
The floor was a polished black stone, smooth as glass, reflecting the dim torchlight.
And at the center of the room, a maze.
Alex exhaled through his nose.
‘Of course.’
It couldn’t be simple, multiple passageways branched off in different directions, leading deeper into the hideout.
Some likely led to dead ends.
Others probably looped back onto themselves.
It was designed to confuse, to mislead, to frustrate anyone who dared enter.
But it didn’t matter.
Because no matter how complex the maze was, Alex knew exactly where he was going.
The Main Room was somewhere ahead.
And once he found it, he would leave nothing behind.
His footsteps echoed softly as he moved forward, swallowed by the eerie silence that hung in the air.
The deeper he went, the stronger the lingering presence of hatred became.
It wasn’t just the people who had lived here—no, this place itself was steeped in it, soaked in emotions that had been left to fester for far too long.
Then, after navigating the twisting corridors, he heard voices.
“We should be careful.”
“Lord Dominic was apparently killed by the curse of silence.”
“Someone tried to get information out of him?”
Alex stopped.
These weren’t the [Guardians of Hatred].
No, these were lower members of the sect, insignificant insects who had deluded themselves into thinking they were part of something greater.
‘Fools.’
Alex had no intention of letting any of those who attack him walk away alive.
The [Bleeding Dragon Claws] formed over his right hand in an instant.
His fingers elongated into jagged, crimson talons, pulsing with a dark glow.
Then he advanced.
The first cultist barely had time to react.
“Wha—?!”
Alex’s claws tore through his throat before he could finish the word.
Blood sprayed against the stone wall, and before the body even hit the ground, Alex had already moved to his next target.
The second cultist lifted his hands, desperately trying to cast a spell, but he was too slow as well.
Alex’s claws pierced his chest, cutting straight through.
The man gasped, choking on blood as he collapsed.
The third and final cultist turned to run.
Alex didn’t let him.
The tendrils from the [Crown of Calamity] lashed forward, wrapping around the man’s throat.
He was yanked into the air, his legs kicking uselessly.
“Please—!”
Alex watched as the tendrils tightened and the bones of the man cracked, but even then he did nothing.
The cultist twitched once, then went limp.
The body hit the ground, and silence returned.
Alex exhaled slowly, retracting his claws.
He hadn’t even broken his stride, it was effortless.
But this was only the beginning.
The [Main Room] was still ahead.
After eliminating the first group, Alex encountered more cultists within the maze-like corridors.
Word of his presence spread fast, of course it did.
But it didn’t change anything.
The sect’s lower members rushed to stop him, desperate, terrified, willing to throw themselves at him in a futile attempt to slow him down.
But Alex didn’t even need to fight anymore.
The [Crown of Calamity] did it for him.
He didn’t know why, but he could feel it, the seething, burning hatred emanating from the crown on his head.
It pulsed with an almost vengeful energy, and every time another cultist got close, it acted.
Tendrils lashed out, choking them or slicing them in half.
Alex never had to lift a finger.
Eventually, the remaining members realized the truth: they couldn’t win.
One by one, they began to flee.
No longer concerned with protecting their hideout, they abandoned everything, scrambling toward the exit in a desperate attempt to escape this living nightmare.
Alex let them go.
They weren’t the ones he was after as long as they didn’t attack.
Because now the only thing between him and the [Hatred Demon] were the [Guardians of Hatred].
And unlike the weaklings who had fled…
They wouldn’t be given the chance to run.
No mercy.
Not for them.