The dungeon reeked of blood, sweat, and impending death. The air was thick with the metallic scent of fresh wounds, mixing with the dampness of the stone walls. Chains rattled ominously as Rudra whimpered, his battered body hanging from rusted shackles, wrists raw and torn open from endless struggling. A single flickering bulb cast erratic shadows, making the sinister instruments of torture gleam dreadfully in the dim light.
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