Somewhere deep within the abyss, far beyond the reach of sunlight and beyond the purity of mana, a vast hall stood.
It seemed to be carved from black demonic crystal stone that seemed to drink in every trace of visibility in the surroundings. The ceiling arched high like the inside of a monstrous ribcage, jagged stalactites hung down like fangs.
The air was filled with demonic energy, so dense that it shimmered faintly around moving objects and distorted vision. If a normal aris native breathed in such air they would decompose in a single second.
At the center of that hall, a grotesque figure sat, jagged horns that seemed to be the part of the rugged and ugly exoskeleton.
Demon Lord Amon rested upon a throne fashioned with dark crystalline matter, the throne like it had grown out from the ground.
It pulsed with crimson veins that throbbed slowly like a living heart, feeding raw demonic essence into the air. Amon's body was a disturbing fusion of exposed bone and fleshy muscle.
