On a plain.
Countless Skin-Stripping Monsters roamed here, occasionally seeing a few Demons walking around out of boredom.
In the center of the plain, there was a large camp.
This was the large camp of the Demon Legion.
In the center of the camp, a pitch-black floating platform hovered quietly in mid-air.
On the floating platform, the Commander of the Demons, Bartos, lazily leaned on the central throne, his head slightly tilted to one side.
Upon closer proximity, one could even hear his faint snores.
Suddenly, he opened his eyes in the midst of his slumber and immediately adjusted his posture.
One elbow rested on the chair's armrest, his palm propping up his head, tilting, as his eerie square pupils stared into the distance.
The Hellhound beside the throne seemed to sense something too, straightening its curled body, its three heads staring forward.
A Winged Demon was seen in the distant sky, flapping its wings rapidly, flying toward the throne.
