They arrived in the middle of a massive runic circle atop a tall tower, and the capital of the demons spread out below them in every direction.
Obsidian crimson structures climbed and twisted across the landscape as far as anyone could see, towers and halls and bridges built in a style that had no interest in comfort or beauty, only in size and the impression that size produced.
Crimson light pulsed from the deeper structures the way it had pulsed from the Dominion of Crimson Stone, except this was the source rather than a copy of it, the original from which the Murderous Saint's stolen empire had borrowed its character.
This was the Empire of Hatred. This was where the Demon Emperor sat at the top of the 72 Thrones and looked out over everything he had built from consumed souls.
Damian didn't care about any of it.
