In every demonic stronghold, the rules were absolute, etched into the very essence of the creatures that served within.
No matter the circumstance…
The Commander. Never. Moves.
It was an unwavering law of the demon race. No matter how many invaders breached the outer defenses or how many soldiers fell, the Commander's duty was singular: to protect the Demon Core. So long as the Core remained intact, the stronghold could be rebuilt, revived, reborn.
But the moment an intruder dared to approach the core with intent to destroy…
That was when the Commander was permitted to act.
And it did.
Now, the epicenter had become a warzone.
Leon had lunged first, dashing toward the towering figure like a flash of blue lightning. His blade was low, his body coiled with precision and strength.
But before he could close the gap,
The demon's four crimson eyes snapped open in unison and glowed with searing light.
