Deep within the Nest, the throne woven from flesh and insect shells slowly opened its eyes.
In the center of a palace like a nightmare, a gaunt silhouette stood quietly at the peak of the writhing throne.
The Desperate Witch donned a crimson gown trailing along the viscous flesh floor, like a tide of blood surging.
He quietly watched the knights bursting in from the mist, with not a trace of surprise in his pupils, but a slight hint of mockery.
"...So, they've finally delivered themselves here."
His voice was gentle, carrying exhaustion yet a bizarre satisfaction, as if everything was within his expectations.
"How nice... I was just pondering whether to expend more energy on the siege... Let me see how long the Empire's iron will can struggle before death."
With a slight movement of his delicate fingers, innumerable monsters embedded with severed limbs and twisted spines surged toward the charging knights.
