As the group stepped through the gates and entered the fortress, the true scale of what lay within hit Tave like a blow to the chest.
There weren't just dozens. There were hundreds.
To the left, rows of demons were drilling in formation, weapons flashing under the darkened sky.
To the right, monstrous mounts. Some flying, some crawling, some unlike anything Tave had ever seen, were being prepared. Fed. Armored. Fitted with grotesque saddles.
Others were gathered around massive stone tablets, studying whatever it was. Commanders, clearly higher-ranked demons, barked orders and repositioned squads.
A few demons stood around shrines likely performing some ritual only demons could understand.
And everywhere… the sound of metal, growls, footsteps. Orders. Heat. Fire. Pressure.
This wasn't a garrison.
It was a launchpad.
A fortress preparing for war.
