Tave stepped out into the open area. His eyes swept left and right, scanning the fortress, watching the movements, the routines, the power balance in every corner of this nest of demons.
Hopefully, no one here really knew him.
The face he wore came from a demon already dead, one of those who had fallen earlier in the Rift. If anyone had known that particular demon too well… yeah, that would be a problem.
Now the question was: Where's their leader?
The main structure was divided into several sections, central, left, and right. The central one was clearly more refined than the rest, its architecture more fortified, even symbolic. That had to be where the leader was.
Tave hadn't seen that towering demon again, the one who had captured them in the forest.
He passed several camps where demons lounged around in small groups, laughing, brawling, gambling, or sharing meat ripped from monsters. The place was crude, but alive.
Then. A hand slapped his shoulder from behind.
He froze.
