Devilish outposts along the river's edge were the first to fall. The demons attacked with unmatched ferocity, tearing through fortifications as if they were paper. The air was filled with the screams of devils as they were butchered mercilessly. Blades clashed, spells were cast, and the very environment seemed to bleed from the sheer carnage.
The demons showed no mercy. They impaled their enemies on spikes, unleashed torrents of abyssal fire, and summoned beasts from the darkest depths to aid in their slaughter. Rivers of blood flowed, staining the black waters even darker. The devils, though formidable, were overwhelmed by the relentless assault.
Above it all, the Incarnation of Death and Destruction watched with impassive red eyes. His gaze surveyed the battlefield, every moment of brutality unfolding under his command. He did not lift a finger, yet his presence alone seemed to fuel his army's ferocity.
