The atmosphere thickened, the tension palpable as the Demon Monarchs prepared to unleash their might. Zephiros' icy gaze locked on the boy, his lips curling into a mocking smile, while Azarath looked on with disdain, his power gathering like a storm.
But just as the Monarchs were about to act, a sudden crack of lightning split the sky. It roared across the battlefield, interrupting the dark energy swirling around the demons.
The air trembled as arcs of electricity danced between the clouds, and three figures emerged from the storm. Their presence was like a beacon of power, pulling the attention of both generals and Demon Lords alike.
The first figure descended in a swirl of shimmering light, standing tall and commanding. His golden hair was tied in braids, framing a chiseled face marked with ancient runes.
