The air around the broken temple shuddered as Aaron—the younger brother of the Devil King—stepped forward from his throne of obsidian flame. Every trace of mirth he had worn before had vanished. The remaining devils lining the cliffs and ruins lowered their heads, even the lesser ones trembling as if their instincts warned them that their lord's presence alone could crush them.
Across the battlefield, Mia Frostine's squad stood ready. They had seen her shatter the Royal Guard champion earlier; that very fight had sparked a glimmer of hope in all of them. But this was different. The tension pressing down from Aaron's mana felt suffocating, like an ocean trying to drown their lungs.
Mia clenched her fists, her cold aura intertwining with the fiery heat spilling from Aaron's form. Frost gathered over the broken ground around her boots, freezing even the blood that had spilled earlier. She could tell—he wasn't bluffing anymore. This wasn't another test. This was the real thing.
