Deep beneath the earth's surface, where the weight of the world pressed down like a heavy shroud, lay Serath Rauv's hidden sanctuary—a sprawling network of winding tunnels and cavernous chambers that stretched like the veins of some vast, malevolent creature. Here, in the heart of this subterranean realm, Serath stood within the grandest chamber, an immense cavern bathed in a sickly crimson glow.

The chamber was vast and imposing, its walls adorned with ancient tapestries depicting scenes of death and despair, while flickering torches cast long shadows that danced across the rough-hewn stone. At the center of the chamber, a massive altar of blackened obsidian rose like a monolith, its surface carved with intricate runes that writhed and pulsed with dark energy.

Serath, cloaked in shadows, stood before the altar, his towering figure casting a menacing silhouette against the eerie light. His crimson eyes blazed with unholy fire as he prepared to perform the ritual that would send harvested souls to the underworld.

With a wave of his hand, Serath conjured forth a swirling vortex of darkness, its edges shimmering with an otherworldly light. From within the depths of the portal, the faint whispers of tormented souls could be heard, their anguished cries echoing through the chamber like a chorus of the damned.

As Serath began to chant the ancient incantations, his voice reverberated through the chamber like the tolling of a funeral bell. Each word was laced with malice and cruelty, sending shivers down the spines of all who heard it.

The portal began to widen, its dark energies reaching out to ensnare the souls of the departed and drag them into the abyss. With each soul that disappeared into the depths of the portal, Serath's power grew stronger, his connection to the underworld deepening with every passing moment. And as the last echoes of the ritual faded away, as did the portal of the damned, he stood alone in the chamber.