Carti stepped onto the makeshift altar, the light from a red spotlight illuminating his figure. His presence filled every corner of the space; murmurs turned into shouts and applause. The music began with deep bass and ethereal echoes that resonated between the stone walls, making the floor vibrate beneath the audience's feet. The extras raised their hands in sync, following each beat, as if possessed by the melody.

You stood close to the stage, watching Carti blend his flow with almost ritualistic gestures: slow, calculated movements, head tilts that made the extras' eyes shine even more in the dim light. You could feel the tension between the profane and the sacred, and how each of Carti's verses felt like a spell cast over everyone present.

"Are you seeing this?" you asked someone next to you, though your attention was fixed on Carti. The producer smiled, almost hypnotized. "I've never felt anything like this before... it's like I control the energy of the place."

Each song was more intense than the last. The echo of the gothic chants mixed with the bass of Carti's music created a multisensory experience: goosebumps rose on the skin, hearts pounded to the beat of the hi-hats, and the extras' breathing synchronized with each dramatic pause. Even the candlelight seemed to move in time with the music, casting shadows that seemed to dance on the ancient walls.

At the end, Carti bowed, thanking his "cult," and silence returned for a second before everyone erupted in applause and cheers. The mix of spectacle, theatricality, and reverence left everyone with a sense of having witnessed something almost ritualistic, something that transcended a normal concert.