Chapter 137 – Connections – III
The living border between the domains of humans and demons was an open wound upon the world.
The sky bled in shades of deep crimson, pulsing as if the firmament itself breathed in agony. Below, a jagged mountain range, carved by ages of war and forgotten magic, rose in a chaos of black stone and razor-sharp peaks. But what truly deformed the landscape was not the terrain—it was the purple glow, like frozen lightning, ripping through the ground from below.
Dungeon rifts.
Dozens. Hundreds. Some already subdued by heroes who never returned. Others still waiting for fresh blood.
But all of them... calamitous.
Even after the destruction of the corrupting artifacts and the fall of their bosses, they remained open. Each one a hungry mouth, always gaping. Some whispered curses. Others roared with monsters trying to escape.
In front of the dungeons, crimson stakes were embedded in the scorched earth. From them emanated a red light that projected a film over the rifts.
That film was a protective barrier, functioning as a seal. As long as the stakes held, no one could enter, and no monster could exit.
All these macabre portals created an atmosphere of constant terror—a cradle of degenerate magic and circumstances that could turn fatally lethal in mere seconds.
It was known as the Extinction Zone.
Footsteps echoed amid the murmur of soldiers standing before a dungeon.