The Spire of Sins sat at the heart of the Demonic Capital, a towering obsidian needle that pierced the clouds of the Abyssal sky.
Inside the Great Hall of the Seven, the air was thick with the scent of malice and demonic Miasma.
"What do you mean, you can't find him?!" Belial roared, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings like a thunderclap. His handsome face was contorted with a frantic fury.
"He is a single Demon God! Where else can he hide? The Abyss is our domain!"
The high-ranking Demon Gods standing before the throne trembled, their knees hitting the floor. Just as the General was about to offer a stuttering excuse, the massive, iron-bound doors of the hall groaned open.
Six pairs of footsteps resonated through the chamber. The temperature in the room plummeted.
