Meanwhile.
The Ark of Calamity, a Demon Mother Ship.
The Abyssal Great Demon, Tearer Mercator. It stood over ten meters tall, like a Demon God descended upon the world. Beneath its dark red skin, the Demon's Blood blessed by Avernus surged and flowed.
Its hair, composed entirely of dense bone spikes, swept backward, a horrifying sight.
Its heavy breaths were like peals of thunder, and its black, fleshy wings blotted out the sun.
It stood on the bridge of the Demon Mother Ship, gripping a heavy Slaughter Knife caked in shredded flesh. It stared at the distant Iberian Glory on the other side of the star-filled void, sensing the aura of a powerful expert there—one who could bring it the joy of battle.
Frontline command?
Strategy and tactics?
To an Abyssal Great Demon, such things were meaningless—matters for the weak and cowardly to consider.
