Rough fingers brushed over the cold armor's surface, the souls buried within its mottled palm lines seemed to awaken the murderous armor with the thoughts of a distant era's owner.
"What is that sound!"
The adjutant suddenly felt a faint ringing in his ears, as if a momentary loss of consciousness was reconnected, perhaps just his illusion, like the wailing of a bottomless, deep pit that drew wind into a void, along with an invisible stream of air, pulling even the soul into its depths, into the dark place, from the precise joints of the armor,
"It's the sound of the Netherworld. Have you ever heard of the Netherworld Stele? It was created by ancient emperors, killing so many that the Netherworld overflowed with souls, using it as a King's Device to seal the souls of all gods and beings. And I once... seemed to have opened a trace of the Nether Gate within Aran's realm, right within this... Ten Directions Great Destruction."
