The fifth and final stage of the citadel was unlike anything Max had expected. It wasn't vast or ornate like the other stages. Instead, it was a simple circular hall, dimly lit, and strangely quiet—almost like a sealed archive lost in time.
Shelves lined the curved walls, filled with old books, crumbling scrolls, ink-stained pens, and dusty artifacts. The scent of age and forgotten knowledge hung thick in the air. Yet none of that truly captured Max's attention.
Two things stood out immediately, demanding his full focus.
At the very center of the hall, enclosed in a perfectly clear spherical vessel, hovered a single drop of crimson blood. It pulsed faintly with a rhythm that echoed like a heartbeat, casting an eerie red glow on the white marble floor beneath it.
Even without touching it, Max could feel its power. It wasn't just blood—this was divine, filled with energy so dense it felt like it could collapse space around it.
