The weight pressing down on Jack's shoulders intensified as the demon god leaned forward, his massive frame shifting on the throne.
The joints creaked, a sound like grinding teeth that echoed through the vast chamber. Those green flames burning in his eyes tracked every micro-expression on Jack's face.
Jack forced himself to stand straight despite the pressure. He'd faced death enough times to recognize when showing weakness would get him killed.
This wasn't like standing before Draven, that had felt solemn, almost ceremonial. This felt dangerous in a way that made his instincts scream.
The demonic essence flowing through his veins pulsed in response to the god's presence. Not painfully, but with a resonance that felt almost like recognition.
As if some part of him that wasn't quite human anymore understood what sat on that throne.
'Focus,' Jack thought, pushing aside the unsettling realization. 'Get what you came for and figure out the rest later.'