The demons' VIP room was a stark contrast to the chaos of the arena below.
The space was vast, supported by columns of living obsidian that pulsed slowly, as if breathing alongside the Abyss. Curtains of crimson energy separated the space from the rest of the coliseum, allowing one to see everything without being seen. Thrones, sofas, and seats molded according to the essence of each occupant were scattered almost organically.
When the doors opened, a momentary silence fell.
Sephirothy entered first.
Her presence was impossible to ignore—not out of ostentation, but out of density. The air seemed to curve slightly around her. Neberius followed closely behind, relaxed posture, hands in pockets, an attentive gaze like someone who had seen this type of meeting turn into war more times than he could count.
As soon as the door closed behind them, several heads turned at once.
