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The God of Underworld - Chapter 169 - 14
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... inal gate.
His body was broken, his feet raw and bleeding, his hands blistered from gripping his lyre through storms and shadows, his soul frayed like a harp string stretched too tight.
The mist of the Underworld curled around him, whispering, urging him to quit. Yet he raised his head, eyes blazing with that same fragile, indestructible hope.
"The last trial..." he murmured to himself.
His voice cracked, but it carried his determination.
And as he stared ...
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