The Heavenly Demon of Terror

(Samuel's POV)

The whiskey burned as it went down, but it was a welcome burn. Sitting in this bar, away from the chaos of the Forgotten Abyss, felt almost unnatural. We were warriors, conquerors, not men who sat around drinking while the world moved without us.

But even warriors needed a moment to breathe.

I leaned back in my seat, twirling the empty glass in my hand before looking at Henry.

"So, in Eastern Europe, which place do you suggest?"

Henry exhaled, running a hand through his hair. His golden eyes flickered with thought, but the small smirk on his face told me he already had a plan.

"There's a place," he started, his voice low enough that only I could hear over the quiet hum of the bar. "It's not on any map. No official records. But the underground knows it as the Black Hollow."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Sounds dramatic."

Henry chuckled, setting his own glass down.

"It is. And for a good reason."