Jarath had frozen.
The empty sockets of his mask narrowed.
"You are…"
The entire void shuddered, and the shadows shifted.
Jarath took a single step backward.
And dropped to one knee.
He laid his Scythe on the ground, and lowered his head.
"My Liege."
Amon blinked.
"Your humble servant prostrates before you."
Amon's confusion grew.
'Isn't this guy supposed to be Demon King? Why would he kneel-' Amon was suddenly hit by pressure ten times stronger than that exuded by Jarath.
Completely forgetting about Jarath, Amon slowly turned around.
A shadow stood behind him, overwhelmingly large and dark. It seemed to reach to the heavens, to the dark sky above, to merge with that sky, to be one with it. In fact, it felt like this whole space was part of that shadow.
Jarath's voice trembled. It was as if Amon wasn't even there.
"Forgive my insolence…"
The giant shadow didn't say a thing, nor did it move.
Amon looked up at the being of shadows.
