The Demon Lord's throne room was shrouded in darkness, lit only by the faint, flickering glow of torches mounted along the stone walls. Shadows stretched across the cavernous hall, amplifying the menacing aura that filled the air. The Demon Lord, a towering figure of raw power, sat upon a throne carved from the bones of his enemies. His crimson eyes burned with a cold, relentless fire, surveying the desolate expanse of his chamber.
A demon lieutenant, trembling with fear, approached the throne and dropped to his knees, his head bowed so low it nearly touched the floor.
"Speak," the Demon Lord commanded, his voice rumbling through the room like distant thunder.
"Your Majesty," the lieutenant stammered, barely able to steady his voice. "There has been an… incident on the eastern front. Three of our main encampments were… destroyed."
