Baron Zathrek stood at the main gate of Grimveil City.
The massive black doors behind him were fully open.
Rows of demons lined both sides of the road, standing stiff and silent.
Even the usual street noise was gone.
Zathrek kept his back straight, his hands folded calmly in front of him.
Ash drifted faintly from his body, but his breathing was steady.
"…Everything must be perfect," he muttered under his breath.
Velkyr stood a step behind him, eyes lowered. His blurred form was unusually still.
The air suddenly grew heavy.
Several elite demons near the gate stiffened.
One of them nearly collapsed to a knee before catching himself.
Zathrek felt it immediately.
"…He's here," he said quietly.
From the road beyond the gate, a small procession approached.
At the front were several demon slaves, their heads lowered, backs bent under pressure that did not come from weight alone.
Between them floated a black metal box, carried by chains of glowing runes.
