Brutus was stationed near the northern gate of the town, seated atop a throne sculpted entirely from sand, his eyes closed.
His awareness stretched across the battlefield, tracking the movements of the people around him and even the man observing him from far above.
William's presence was a hindrance, more mental than physical. Still, Brutus knew that Brutus' intentions were aligned with a better future, with humanity's survival. For that reason alone, even the gods would stand in his favor.
But before any of that, he needed to deal with the incoming pest.
He opened his eyes as William's voice echoed in his mind.
[Incoming.]
That was all. No details, no warning beyond that. Brutus did not need them.
He trusted his own strength above all else. He was confident that even if a General-ranked Devil were to appear before him, he had the means to injure it before making his retreat.
He took a deep breath as it finally came into view.
