Lucifer could not afford to wait a single second longer. If he permitted this stalemate to endure, sooner or later this anomaly of a kingdom would deliver a tactical surprise he might be entirely unequipped to anticipate.
With a slow, deliberate wave of his hand—his fingers elongating into wicked, pitch-black claws—Lucifer issued a new decree. It was a universal sign across the legions signifying that the supreme ruler's patience had officially run dry.
Instantaneously, from behind the swirling banks of the blood-red storm clouds, a cataclysmic surge of mana erupted—so violently pressurized that the very fabric of the sky seemed to split open as if struck by a primordial axe. Colossal, magnificent silhouettes began to materialize through the shifting mists, bringing with them an aura of absolute death so heavy it flattened the wind: The Pureblood Demons had descended.
