The air outside Nathaniel's modest home buzzed with a palpable tension. A sharp, cutting breeze whipped through the quiet, carrying with it the promise of violence.
A formation of demon guards stood before the entrance like an unyielding barricade, their black armour glinting faintly under the overcast sky.
The insignia of Nathaniel, etched prominently across their chests, seemed to pulse with authority, but their faces betrayed no hint of emotion.
Despite their stony expressions, their fingers gripped their weapons with a white-knuckled intensity, a silent testament to their readiness for the fight they anticipated.
"Step aside," I commanded, my voice low and thrumming with barely restrained rage. The words hung heavy in the air, each syllable a warning.
