In the grandeur of the darkened throne room, shadows clung to the edges, and an air of somber anticipation hung thick. The Lord of Purgatory, a figure of imposing stature, sat upon his obsidian throne, his gaze penetrating the darkness. The devil cultivators, bowing before their master, hesitated before delivering the unsettling news.
"Is it him?" the Lord of Purgatory demanded, his voice resonating with a chilling authority that echoed through the vast chamber.
"Forgive me, my lord," began one of the devil cultivators, his voice careful and measured. "We cannot ascertain if it's Lyon Torga or not, however, Nuphy, the high elder, is dead."
The pronouncement reverberated through the room, and the Lord of Purgatory's eyes narrowed with a mixture of concern and suspicion. The mere mention of Lyon Torga seemed to stir a dormant apprehension within him.
