Morax paced the length of Hell's throne room, his footsteps echoing against the cold walls. Blood clung to his skin, glistening like rubies, a testament to the ferocity of his encounter with another god.

His face was bleeding, blood dripping profusely from his head and nose. His well-tailored clothing was torn all over, revealing bleeding cuts and gashes.

“Calm." He murmured to himself, his voice a low rumble that resonated through the chamber. He awaited the arival of Herzha, Queen of hell.