BAM.
The heavy, obsidian doors of the meeting hall were hurled back against the walls by a force of terror.
A high-ranking Demon Messenger, a creature usually known for his cold composure and razor-sharp intellect, stumbled into the room.
His scales, once a deep, lustrous crimson, had faded to a sickly, pale grey. He collapsed to his knees, his claws scraping the stone as if trying to find purchase in a world that had suddenly gone soft.
"Lords! Bad news! The impossible... it has happened!"
The Demon Lords didn't move. Instead, they channeled a collective pulse of suffocating aura into the room, a pressurized wave of energy that forced the messenger's heart to stabilize through sheer brute force.
"Speak," Deimos commanded, his voice a low thrum that vibrated in the marrow of the messenger's bones.
"Lord... the Multiverse of Gods... and the Realm of Advancement... they're gone!" the messenger shrieked, the words tumbling out in a jagged rush.
