In the heart of Demonic Realm, the silence was absolute and suffocating. The Demon Lords stared at the latest report.
"Edgar has… lost?" Beelzebub rumbled, his voice laced with genuine shock. He crushed a diamond like stone (the source of this message) in his hand, the dust trickling through his fingers like sand. "He was a Legion-Born. A weapon of destruction."
"My toys do not break that easily, Beelzebub," Deimos said, a proud and chilling smile spreading across his face.
He stood by the window, gazing out at the swirling chaos of the Demonic Realm, his mind already thinking about the reason behind this defeat, and he mostly knew how it happened.
"But how?" Phobos questioned, the hundred terrified faces in his shadowy form whispering in confused unison. "He was winning. He was draining that Cosmos dry. Did the sixteen Gods ambush him? No… even then, Edgar would have simply absorbed their attacks and grown stronger. It doesn't make sense."
