The air had shifted.
It wasn't just heavy now—it felt dark.
As thick, corrupted energy spread out from the four demons, quickly rotting the surroundings. It felt as if the world itself was trying to reject their presence.
Azhriel stood still, his grip tightening around his icy scythe. Across from him, the remaining four demons—now twisted by the Regas Pills—growled like beasts that had been let off their chains.
Their muscles had swelled unnaturally like they would blast into peices any moment.
While black lines spread across their skin like armor. Their eyes were bloodshot, veins dark and pulsing from the raw demonic energy surging through them.
Behind them, the Sergeant finally unfolded his arms. The Sergeant's grin didn't fade. "They serve their purpose. Isn't that what matters?"
Azhriel eyes narrowed as he looked at the Sergeant.
It was annoying seeing that damn monster run his mouth.
