Screams, pleas for mercy, and wails.
The various sounds gradually died down, until only eerie breathing echoed through the air.
Several figures wrapped in heavy black robes arranged corpse after corpse within the magic circle according to some bizarre pattern. Blood gushed forth, dyeing the circle a vivid crimson, while the flowing blood ran along trenches dug beforehand, forming a circle within the circle.
That eerie breathing was coming from the strange star-shaped magic circle formed of blood.
A man in a red robe stood outside the magic circle, coldly watching it all. Only after every corpse had been arranged and the black-robed figures had emerged did he take out a heavy tome with a golden cover and begin chanting a lengthy spell.
His chanting was quiet, yet it carried a rhythm that made listeners deeply uncomfortable. As he chanted, the eerie breathing within the magic circle grew stronger and stronger, until it sounded like bellows pumping, wheezing without pause.
Not only that, the ground beneath the blood-formed star-shaped magic circle began to tremble, thudding again and again as though a heart were hidden inside it. The breathing grew louder, and the ground shook more violently. It was as if some terrifying thing lurked underground, ready to emerge at any moment.
But just as the eerie breathing and the trembling ground were nearing their peak, the red-robed man stopped.
"This is enough," he said in a low, shrill voice. "Leave it like this."
With that, he departed with the black-robed figures without looking back, leaving behind only the magic circle that still breathed and the ground that continued to tremble.
About half an hour later, accompanied by urgent hoofbeats, a group of paladins came galloping in. Looking at the dozen-odd corpses strewn across the ground, listening to that eerie breathing,