"How long have we been here?"
"Since we died-more than two thousand years."
"Still hoping your Lord will come and save you, Medici? Heh, you're like a stray dog that lost its master, wallowing in the past all this time."
In the dense darkness, the nauseatingly thick smell of rust was the only scent, as though this were a prison forged from iron and blood. A voice rang out in this black-and-red world, followed by a string of taunts.
"What a shame. It's been so long since any of Tudor's descendants came here-did we really kill them too quickly last time and scare them out of their wits? I thought Tudor's descendants would have a little backbone, but now that I think about it, they're just as stupid as ordinary people!"
A rustling sound arose. The speaker seemed to lick his lips, his tone steeped in barely restrained madness. Just as snickers and mockery were about to rise from within his body, his gaze fixed on the door that had never stopped bleeding over the past two thousand years.
Slow, heavy footsteps sounded in the distance.
Upon realizing this, the evil spirit's mouth stretched into an increasingly wide, savage grin. "Someone's coming."
Nimrod pushed open the rotten, dilapidated wooden door and followed the dark stone slabs into the ruins beneath the house.
The path leading to the ruins was paved with thick stone slabs. At its end, a set of double stone doors stood silently. Those stone-
doors looked exceptionally heavy, matching the style of the black stone slabs on the ground.
Expressionless, Nimrod pressed a hand against them and pushed them open with just a little force. Through Excellent Observation, he saw elongated glimmers of spirituality dropping from above, seemingly about to fall onto him.
But just then, Nimrod