Hard drum grid already under this, and the guitars sit as one dark warm block.

No voice yet. Just low-mid heat and a count that doesn't leave much slack.

Still building on that same forward march, deliberate and loaded.

Those four heavy drum blows mark the body of the track.

Same kind of hit comes back.

Now it opens into a clearer rock groove with real weight under it. Easier to ride, but the accents still lean hard.

Little metal rise and drop right there.

Voice finally lands on "Borders touch the sky," set on top of a structure that's already built.

"Haven for the snakes" names the coiled feel the rhythm's been carrying.

"Appointed by the gods" keeps moving with the band instead of pausing on the myth.

"To seal the sanctuary," and the groove just keeps going underneath.

Band builds and releases around that same pocket.

"The streets are paved with gold," but the guitars still sound corroded at the edges.

Then "On the outside we decay" pulls it straight back to rot.

"A window to the underworld" drops the space straight down.

"Kings and creatures block the way." Drums keep the path usable; guitars keep it dangerous.

"Deep within the walls."

"The time has come to conquer" turns the lyric from map into action.

Just "I see." Blunt. Like the voice stops reporting and looks through.

"Serpents they wait in the grass."

"Orchestrating the end of time," and the band still won't leave the count.

"Pathway leads to a vigorous land."

"Find our way through the sanctuary gates," but nothing hurries the arrival.

Weight lifts and drops back under the beat. Same center, color turning enough that it never goes static.

Harder voice now. "No asylum."

"Human sacrifice."

"The pillars fall."

"An end in sight," and the band still stays upright under the collapse talk. That's the hard part: images break, the count doesn't.

Long stretch with no singing. Just the grip tightening again.

Singing voice back. "Leaving our home."

"Destined to fall" makes the march feel less like triumph and more like exile.

"A distant memory of hope," still stuck inside the same repeating machinery. No soft landing.

"Die by the sword."

"Or be reborn." No clean pause on the choice. It just keeps pushing through.

Thicker guitars, harsher vocal force. Less explanation now, more body forced through the passage.

Heavier again right here.

And now it starts to relax. After all that drive, the grip loosens in small fractures, not one big overthrow.