บท 1067: It All Began With Blood

In a different part of this same world, far from the chaos of the cube room, lay the depths of a cold land. 

This land was the ninth circle of hell, just as told by Dante's Inferno in lenny's old world. 

A frozen wasteland where the damned souls of traitors were eternally punished. The landscape was bleak and desolate, a frozen expanse where the air was so frigid it seemed to slice through flesh and bone.

The ground was covered in a thick, impenetrable sheet of ice, with jagged, rocky outcroppings piercing the surface like the teeth of a monstrous beast. 

These rocks were not ordinary stones; they were cursed, their surfaces embedded with the twisted faces of tormented souls. These souls were forever fused with the rock, their agonized expressions frozen in perpetual torment. 

They moaned and wailed, their cries echoing through the icy abyss, a constant reminder of the eternal suffering that awaited those who dared to tread in this forsaken place.