The Devil Kingdom had never known silence like this.
For generations, coronations were occasions of thunderous roars, armies gathering in parade formation, skies filled with crimson banners. But now, after the fall of Aamon, after the collapse of the palace, after the signing of a treaty with humans—nothing was the same.
The throne hall was rebuilt in haste, not out of vanity, but necessity. Massive slabs of blackstone were cut and lifted by dozens of devils working tirelessly. Runes—simple ones, predating the era of advanced magic—were etched by claw and blade, creating a solemn atmosphere that seemed older than the concept of war itself.
Devils from all factions gathered:
The winged sentinels.
The horned warriors.
The shadowborn mages.
The beastlike tribes.
And, for the first time in history… humans observed from the balcony above, invited guests rather than prisoners.
