"Kneel," Satou repeated, his voice carrying absolute command. "You tried to kill me while I was standing. Now you'll accept your marking while you're beneath me. Kneel, Chronus the Timeless. Or I'll inform Lord Malakor that you're refusing the Rite, which would be yet another violation of law."
The humiliation of the demand was worse than any physical strike could be. Every demon lord present, every retainer, every spectator—all of them would see Chronus, tenth-seat, master of time itself, kneeling before a three-month-old provisional demon lord.
Chronus's hands clenched into fists. His jaw worked as if he was physically chewing on words too bitter to swallow. His entire body trembled with suppressed rage.
But slowly, with the mechanical movement of someone forcing themselves through absolute torture, Chronus lowered himself to one knee.
