## Chapter 9: Uninvited Guests & Gaming Interruptions
The Obsidian Throne Room was silent except for the soft bloops and zaps emanating from the shimmering blue interface floating before Leo. His fingers danced over the translucent controls, utterly absorbed in Play Space Alpha. A squadron of pixelated goblins was giving his newly designed lava troll boss a surprisingly hard time. "C'mon, Trollhammer, use the AOE! Not the single-target! Ugh, pathfinding needs work..."
A shadow fell across the projected light. Leo didn't look up. "Ignis. You're blocking the screen."
The towering figure of his First Follower, clad in living shadow-scale armor, knelt silently a respectful distance before the throne. He waited, head bowed, the molten gold of his eyes fixed on the grimy floor. The silence stretched, punctuated only by digital combat sounds. Leo expertly guided Trollhammer through a pixelated firestorm.
Ignis shifted minutely. The scrape of his armored knee on stone was deliberate. Loud.
Leo sighed, a long, drawn-out sound of profound annoyance. He paused the game with a flick of his wrist. The interface vanished, plunging the throne room back into its usual oppressive gloom. He finally looked down at the kneeling warrior. His expression wasn't angry, just deeply inconvenienced.
"Ignis," Leo stated, his voice flat. "I was mid-boss fight. Important stuff. Why are you distracting me?" He leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his fist. "This better be good. Like, 'the castle is actively collapsing right now . Or 'there's a chocolate fountain spontaneously manifesting in the pantry' . Otherwise..." He let the threat hang, a chilling undercurrent beneath the casual tone.
Ignis flinched. A phantom sensation of crushing, impossible weight ghosted across his back, making his muscles tense involuntarily. His deep, resonant voice, usually steady, held a distinct tremor. "Forgive the intrusion, Master Azrael. I... I deemed it necessary. I witnessed something near the western border of your domain."
Leo raised an eyebrow. "Witnessed? Like... a bird? A particularly interesting rock formation? Because unless it's actively invading right now, it could have waited ten minutes."
"No, Master," Obsidian said quickly, swallowing hard. "Demons. A group of them. Skulking near the edge of the Shattered Steppes, just beyond the perimeter of the... cleansing." He avoided looking directly at Leo. "They weren't crossing the border. They weren't attacking. They seemed... watchful. Assessing."
Leo leaned back, the obsidian throne groaning softly. "Demons? Here? After the grand 'Welcome Heroes' party I threw?" He rubbed his temples. "What flavor of demon? Imps? Balrogs? Annoying little gremlins that steal left socks?"
"Scouts, Master," Obsidian clarified. "Lower-tier Hellspawn. Horned, scaled, carrying crude blades. Likely sent by one of the other Lords." He paused, choosing his words with extreme care. "They committed no overt act of aggression. Merely observed. I... I sought your wisdom. Should I... eradicate them? Scatter them back to whatever pit sent them? Or... ignore them?" He kept his gaze firmly fixed on the floor before Leo's boots, awaiting judgment not just for the scouts, but for his own interruption.
Silence descended. Heavy. Thick. Obsidian could hear the frantic beat of his own heart – a sound amplified by his draconic senses and sheer terror. The seconds stretched like centuries. He imagined punishments – being shrunk back to his original size, being forced to beta-test endless slimes, being named something truly humiliating...
Then, Leo's voice cut through the tension, calm and decisive.
"Bring them here."
Obsidian's head snapped up, golden eyes wide with surprise. "Master?"
"Alive," Leo clarified, waving a hand dismissively. "Mostly intact. Tied up is fine. Gagged if they're chatty." He reactivated his game interface with a thought. The blue screen flared back to life, the paused boss fight awaiting his command. "Don't wreck the place dragging them in. And be quick. Trollhammer needs me."
A flicker of relief washed over Obsidian, followed by fierce determination. He slammed a fist over his heart in a sharp salute, the sound echoing in the chamber.
"At once, Master!"
He rose with fluid grace, a shadow detaching itself from the gloom of the throne room floor. Without another word, he turned and strode towards the massive entrance doors. As he pushed them open, a faint shimmer passed over him, not the full draconic transformation, but a subtle shift – an aura of predatory menace, the ancient wyrm momentarily eclipsing the human form. He vanished into the dim corridor beyond, his footsteps silent on the stone.
He snorted. "Great." He unpaused the game, refocusing on the pixelated troll. "Okay, big guy, let's try this again. Use the lava stomp*, you walking pile of polygons..." The bloops and zaps resumed, filling the throne room once more, the impending arrival of potential spies momentarily forgotten in favor of virtual conquest. Obsidian was on the hunt, and the Obsidian Reach's borders were no longer merely lines on a map.