In the stess,— the crushing pressure set upon everyone,— everything, in this war between sparse humanity and restless, irking demons, to the (Doom) Slayer, you were a gem. A precious thing, priceless beyond belief. To have someone understand him, it was like a fresh breath of air, after being stuck in a polluted environment. And for that to be stripped from him, again? — he was livid.

Everything happened in a blur,— a hazy fog, soon dissipating to a sluggish slumber. Something jerking you back to your half subconscious state from before, yet, this time,— you were splayed upon raw, cold floor. A voice chiming, it’s oddly gnarly, guttural voice grating in your ears as a sharp headache ached within you.

”Ah. — You’re awake.” The voice pealed, as your hazey mind recognised the taunting input as Davoth. You were,— seized in his citadel. How lovely!

”I started thinking you were dead,— although, your fate wouldn’t be a big deal.”

Davoth undermined once more, a low, steady chuckle ringing from his throat. — dragging your defeated gaze upon his cocksure form, rested arrogantly upon a throne. The vicious, jagged metal restraints biting into your tethered skin.