"Master!" Hilda muttered once she was tagged, shaken to her core by the sensation that nearly took her to her knees. She wanted to kneel, to be made to be whipped until her back blistered and bled for her failure. "F-F-Forgive me."
Altair's piercing red eyes did not so much as cross Hilda's, remaining poised on the countless Cambions surrounding them. Their gnarled bodies were petrified by the indescribable sensation of authority that pulsed from his crown and blood.
Dread.
Dread bore through the bodies of the half-bloods, leaving many to be made to bow, writhing like lowly worms. They dared not look at the Prince, determined to suffocate beneath the profane might that echoed from the infernal depths of the Nine Hells. And to be made to die beneath the honor of the Prince of Hell.
To do so was their honor. They're right as worms whose mother tossed them away at birth.
