Eight thousand four hundred primeval orc Vanguards stood assembled across the cavern floor.
The heavy crimson aura leaking from Jack's core kept them completely motionless, their yellow, slit-pupil eyes locked forward in terrifying, unbroken discipline.
Jack stood atop the raised stone dais overlooking the staging grounds.
The heat of the Red Soul Realm still clung to his skin, a faint ember-haze drifting from his coat like steam over hot iron.
To Jack's right, Pho stood at rigid attention, cold, dark mist coiling off his limbs.
Pho tilted his head. "Your command, Lord?"
"Floors 26, 27, 28, and 29," Jhad ack said coldly. "The intermediate floors are cluttered with rogue elemental nests and unorganized tribes that have forgotten what authority looks like. I want the routes cleared, the forward outposts secured, and every regional boss brought to heel. You take command of the vanguard, Pho. March them down. Erase anything that refuses the knee."
