"Is it time?"
Along with the wind came a rotten stench of stink and decay. Demons, the symbol of destruction, were fully spread out before us. Their tremendous army arriving from the myriad dimensions emanated a tremendous sense of pressure. Here, even a single demon soldier had far surpassed the average human hero.
These demons faced an endless, silent darkness. I didn't need to describe the courage and loyalty of the undead warriors of the night. No matter the time or place I wanted them to fight, they would forever attack who I commanded them to.
Who was the enemy? How powerful were they? What were our chances of victory? My undead army would never ask such questions. Whenever the war horn sounded, their choice would be clear from the sound of the skeletal warhorses' hoof steps.
And to respond to their loyalty and expectations, I was going to lead them to victory—no matter the cost.
"It's time!"
