Three figures stood around a simple table, their faces illuminated by the pale blue light of enchanted crystals that hung from the ceiling.

Maps were spread across the surface, marking territories, guard positions, and strategic points throughout Pho's fortress.

Rynath stood to the east. She stood in silence as she was taking in all the tension in the room.

Loryn occupied the southern position. His skeletal fingers gripped the edge of the table.

Kaedor paced near the western wall. His rings clinked softly as he wrung his hands, the nervous energy radiating from him in waves.

"Kragoth is dead," Kaedor said for perhaps the third time, his voice carrying the edge of panic he was trying to suppress. "His head was delivered in a box with a message."

"We're aware," Rynath said, her tone cold as the ice beneath their feet. "Repeating it doesn't change the reality."

"But how?" Kaedor turned to face them, his face pale. "How does one demon kill Kragoth? The Pit Master has killed hundreds. He's survived for decades. He was on the verge of Disaster-class himself. And this yellow-eyed demon just... killed him?"

Loryn's distant voice drifted across the room. "The same way any warrior kills another. Superior skill. Better tactics. Or simply more power." His skeletal fingers traced patterns on the map. "The question isn't how. The question is who's next."

The words hung in the cold air like a death sentence.

"The vaults are reinforced," Kaedor said quickly. "Triple barriers. Five hundred guards. I've personally overseen every security measure. Nothing gets through those defenses."

"Kragoth thought the same about his pit," Rynath observed. Her eyes, which had been scanning the room periodically, swept across the space again.

"Yet his body fell from the sky, and his head arrived in a box."

Beyond the room's closed door, voices drifted through. Guards talking, their tones carrying the nervous energy of soldiers who'd just learned their invincible leader wasn't so invincible after all.

"Did you see the body?"

"I heard it was headless. It was so clean it looked like a master swordsman did it."

"One strike. That's what they're saying. The yellow-eyed demon killed Kragoth in one strike."

"That's impossible. Kragoth was Nightmare-rank."

"So was his corpse."

The conversation faded as the guards moved past, but the fear in their voices lingered.

Kaedor's hands twisted his rings nervously. "We should request additional forces from the eastern territories. Hire…"

"With what gold?" Rynath interrupted. "Your vaults may be secure, but our liquid assets are tied up in operations across twelve territories. Recalling everything would take weeks."

"Then we use what we have," Loryn said. His hollow eyes fixed on the map. "My experiment is ready. Master Pho has authorized its release. Once deployed, the yellow-eyed demon will face something he cannot simply kill with a blade."

"Your experiment," Kaedor said with barely concealed disgust, "killed three of your own. How is that supposed to help us?"

"Because," Loryn replied with the patience of someone explaining basic concepts to a child, "it will kill everything it encounters. Including the yellow-eyed demon. The handlers were... acceptable losses for the greater purpose."

Rynath's eyes swept the room again. That feeling hadn't gone away. The sensation of being watched, of eyes tracking her movements from some hidden vantage point.

It was subtle. Almost imperceptible. But Rynath hadn't survived this long by ignoring her instincts.

Someone was watching.

Her gaze moved across the room, checking corners, examining shadows, looking for anything out of place. Nothing. Just the three of them and the cold stone walls.

'Paranoia,' she thought, though she didn't quite believe it. 'Kragoth's death has everyone on edge. Including me.'

But the feeling persisted.

Through the door, more voices carried.

"The yellow-eyed demon is just a rumor."

"Kragoth's head in a box isn't a rumor."

"But one demon? Doing all this? It doesn't make sense."

"Sense or not, I'm not taking any chances. I heard they're doubling patrols in the barracks."

The voices faded again, replaced by the sound of boots on ice and the distant clang of weapons being prepared.

Rynath's attention shifted as movement caught her eye through the room's small window.

The barracks training yard was visible, and dozens of demons were preparing for whatever came next.

Most fought with the mechanical efficiency of soldiers going through required drills.

But one caught her attention.

A demon in dark armor, his movements precise and brutal.

As she watched, he sparred with another soldier, their exchange lasting perhaps three seconds before the armored demon swept his opponent's legs, drove him to the ground, and snapped his leg with a sickening crack.

The fallen demon screamed.

The armored demon didn't pause.

He grabbed the broken leg, used it as leverage to flip his opponent, and drove his hand through the demon's shoulder.

His fingers pierced flesh and muscle like they were paper.

The fallen demon's screams intensified.

The armored one withdrew his hand, stood, and moved to find another sparring partner with the same cold efficiency.

No hesitation, no mercy. Just brutal, effective violence.

Rynath felt something stir in her chest. Not quite attraction, but... interest.

The kind of interest a predator feels when encountering another predator.

Recognition of skill or danger.

"...Rynath? Are you listening?"

She blinked, realizing Kaedor had been speaking. "What?"

"I said," Kaedor repeated with an annoying voice, "we should coordinate our security measures. If the yellow-eyed demon attacks one location, the others can respond…"

"He won't attack predictably," Rynath interrupted, her eyes still tracking the armored demon through the window. "He killed Kragoth and left his body as a message. That's psychological warfare. He wants us to be afraid. He wants us to make mistakes."

"Then what do you suggest?" Kaedor's voice rose slightly. "We sit here and wait for him to pick us off one by one?"

"I suggest," Rynath said, finally pulling her gaze from the window, "that we stop acting like frightened prey and start acting like the predators we're supposed to be."

Loryn's skeletal fingers drummed on the table. "Rynath has a point. Fear is a weapon. If we allow it to control us, we've already lost."

"Easy for you to say," Kaedor muttered. "Your factory is filled with abominations that would kill the yellow-eyed demon as happily as they'd kill us. My vaults are just gold and guards."

"Then perhaps," Rynath said coldly, "you should invest in better guards."

The meeting continued, devolving into tactical discussions and contingency plans that all felt hollow in the face of what had happened to Kragoth.

They talked about patrols and barriers and response times, but beneath it all was the unspoken question.

Which one of them was next?

Rynath's eyes kept drifting back to the window, watching the armored demon continue his brutal sparring.

He'd moved through four opponents now, each one left broken or bleeding or both.

And through it all, that same cold efficiency. There was no wasted movement or hesitation.

Just violence, delivered with the precision of someone who'd done this a thousand times before.

'Who is that?' Rynath wondered. 'I don't recognize him. New recruit? Transfer from another section?'

The feeling of being watched intensified suddenly, so strong it made her scales ripple.

Rynath's head snapped around, her eyes scanning the room again. Kaedor was still pacing. Loryn was studying his maps. Nothing had changed.

But that feeling...

"I need air," Rynath said abruptly, moving toward the door.

"We're not finished," Kaedor protested.

"You two can finish without me. I have my own preparations to make." She pulled the door open and stepped into the corridor beyond.

The cold hit her immediately, but Rynath barely noticed.

She made her way toward the training yard.

The yard was organized chaos.

Dozens of demons sparring. Officers shouted orders. Weapons clashed against weapons. The air smelled of sweat and blood and ice.

And there, in the center of it all, stood the armored demon.

Up close, he was even more impressive. The armor was unusual. Black and crimson, marked with patterns she didn't recognize. The helmet's T-shaped visor revealed nothing, just darkness and the faint suggestion of eyes behind it.

He stood motionless, watching other demons spar around him, his posture relaxed but ready.

Rynath approached slowly, her scaled skin shifting colors as she moved from shadow to light.

Other demons noticed her presence and quickly found reasons to be elsewhere.

She was Pho's spymaster. Her attention was rarely a good thing.

The armored demon didn't move as she approached. Didn't acknowledge her presence. Just stood there, watching the training continue around them.

'Bold,' Rynath thought. 'Or stupid. Most demons scramble when I approach.'

She stopped a few feet away, studying him with the analytical gaze of someone who'd spent centuries reading people.

The armor fit him well.

The way he stood suggested significant training.

Weight balanced. Ready to move in any direction at a moment's notice.

And there was something else. Something about his presence that felt... different. Out of place in a way she couldn't quite articulate.

"You're new," Rynath said finally, her voice carrying clearly despite the ambient noise of the training yard.

The armored demon turned his head slowly, the T-shaped visor fixing on her with unsettling focus.

He didn't speak. Just looked at her, waiting.

Rynath felt her scales ripple again.

That feeling of being watched, of being assessed, intensified. As if this demon was studying her the same way she was studying him.

"I don't recognize you," she continued, circling him slowly. "What section are you from?"

Still no response. Just that unwavering gaze through the helmet's visor.

'Playing the strong silent type,' Rynath thought. 'Or genuinely unable to speak? Some demons are mute."

She completed her circle, stopping in front of him again. Up close, she could see details she'd missed before.

The armor's surface wasn't perfectly smooth. There were scratches, dents, marks that suggested it had seen significant combat.

And there was something about the way the light caught the black metal. As if it wasn't quite... normal metal.

"What's your name?" Rynath asked, her tone shifting from curious to commanding.

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