The maggots slithered forward with grotesque determination, their pale, writhing bodies glistening under the dim, ethereal light of Azazel's manifested world.
Their mouths gaped wide, revealing rows of tiny, jagged teeth as they lunged toward Greg, driven by an unnatural hunger.
Within this twisted realm conjured by Azazel's will, Greg remained unflinching.
No trace of fear crossed his sharp features; his eyes burned with steady resolve. He knew the limits of this domain all too well.
As long as Azazel hadn't ascended to the absolute rank, nothing here could truly harm him.
The air hummed with dark energy, thick and oppressive, but Greg pushed it aside like a fleeting shadow.
He paid no mind to the maggots swarming around Azazel, their squelching movements echoing faintly in the void.
Instead, Greg pressed his assault, his claws slashing through the air with precise, unrelenting fury.
