Hellsea Bastille, the notorious home of criminals and outcasts, lay submerged beneath the ocean’s depths, a place where hope was as nonexistent as sunlight. Rhea never felt at peace in spaces like these—steel cages housing the lost and the damned, men and women whose dreams had faded into despair. Some of the inmates had committed unspeakable crimes, while others were victims of a harsh system that offered little chance for redemption. A flicker of sympathy tugged at Rhea as she passed by, noting the hollow looks on their faces, the weight of lost opportunities heavy in the air.

As she strode through the shadowy corridors, the sound of her heeled boots echoed through the grim atmosphere surrounding her. Today marked her first shift as an overseer, stationed on the last level of Hellsea. With her combat skills and rank as a Rune Knight, it made sense for her to be here, but that didn’t ease the tension she felt in her chest. The prisoners’ hostile glares bore into her, some calling out with desperate voices, others leering with unfiltered hunger. It was clear many of them hadn’t felt a woman’s touch in years. Rhea tried to ignore the unwelcomed attention, summoning a stern expression that radiated authority. She wanted them to know right away that she was not someone to be fucked with.

Yet amidst the chaos, one name echoed in the Dragon slayers mind: Erebus Gresham. The infamous man sent shivers through the ranks of Rune Knights, known for his ruthless skills in battle and his notorious past. Rumors suggested he was kept in a more isolated part of this level, almost like a ghost haunting the prison. Rhea’s curiosity had been piqued; she was eager to see the man behind the legend. Was he truly as monstrous as the stories claimed? With her dominator holstered at her side and her dagger sheathed, she steeled herself for the encounter. There was no way he would escape—not on her watch.

As she approached his cell, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The lights flickered, dimming to a near-total darkness, and a chill settled in the air, bringing a silence that swept through the corridor. The usual noise of the prison seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of her own breathing. Erebus' cell loomed before her like a the shadows of Mictlan, and the elven knight felt an inexplicable pull toward it. She kept a comfortable distance, aware that proximity could shift the dynamics in unexpected ways.

"The Don of Death, they call you," she said, her voice steady and confident, despite the tension swirling around her. There was no hint of fear; rather, her tone was laced with intrigue. She was curious to see if the man behind the reputation matched the terror told in the stories that surrounded him. In the darkness of the cell, she could make out the figure of Erebus. An energy that hinted at both danger and allure. Rhea felt her pulse quicken; this was the moment she had been waiting for. Would he be as vile as the stories suggested, or was there something deeper lurking beneath the surface?