The Great Demon Lord's personal arena was not so much a structure as a crater—a vast, circular pit carved into the living rock of the mountainside, its walls lined with obsidian benches that gleamed like polished teeth in the torchlight. By the time Alfraed arrived, flanked by Mikaela and Movis, the place was already packed to the brim. Soldiers jostled for the best vantage points, their armor clinking as they leaned over the railings. Maids scurried about with trays of refreshments, somehow maintaining perfect posture while navigating the chaos.
At the center of it all, Gadas stood with his arms crossed, his massive frame casting a shadow that stretched halfway across the arena. He was already shirtless, his scarred torso gleaming under the flickering braziers.
"Took you long enough," he boomed, cracLord his neck. "Thought you humans were supposed to be punctual."
