"Fuck," Noel muttered through clenched teeth.
"…Deal."
"Heh, that's more like it," Azhriel said, his smirk returning.
And then, he vanished.
Slick.
The sound made Phantom and Noel's heads snap toward the right. Azhriel now stood over a collapsing figure, the knife buried deep into the skull.
As the man hit the ground, his camouflaged form unraveled—revealing serpent-like markings across his skin.
"We have guests," Azhriel said turning his head towards the back as the shadows flickered, his lips curling into a smile.
A cold, terrifying smile.
From the shadows, they emerged—five figures moving with predatory grace, their presence suffocating the air around them.
Each one was cloaked in black, their faces partially obscured, but the serpent marks on their foreheads were clear as day.
Deep, ink-black patterns twisted like living things against their skin.
The sight alone was enough to mark them for what they were—Demons from the Legion of Deceit.
