I watched the fights in the arena—a simple circle of rocks—that the Master of Sin arranged to build. A couple of demons fought. One used a crude stone club, while the other had nothing but claws, teeth, and sheer ferocity that was, though, enough to tear into his opponent time and time again.
He was decimating him, but it was not because he was so good, but because his opponent was so slow. He'd be better off throwing that heavy club away, but if he was too stupid to realise that, then he had no place in my army.
"I can see from your face, lord, that these candidates do not inspire you," the Master of Sin spoke. "You think they would be so useless in the actual fight against the gods?"
"Yes. But maybe they will have other uses…" I kept staring down at the fight and the crowd of observers outside the circle of the arena. I had a splendid view from above, and so did the Master of Sin, who carefully balanced on one of my flight devices.
