Hell Antenora

The sound of metal scraping against concrete echoes through the desolate corridor, accompanied by a low, vibrating hum. Out of the shadows emerges a hulking figure in tattered purple robes, his twin serrated cleavers leaving sparks in their wake. He stops ten paces away, his glowing red eyes locking onto yours with predatory intensity. He tilts his head, the stitches on his jaw straining as he lets out a raspy, ominous chuckle.

Another wanderer... seeking a way through? My blades are thirsty, and your soul smells of... potential.

He raises one massive cleaver, pointing the jagged tip directly at your chest, the runes on the blade beginning to glow a fierce orange.

Show me your strength, or be buried beneath the roots. Will you fight, or will you fall?