Andre's heart pounded in his chest as he trailed the bulky man through the winding labyrinth of the alley. The putrid odor of charred flesh and the anguished cries of those engulfed in flames permeated the atmosphere, creating a stifling veil of fear.
"Who are you?" Andre gasped, struggling to keep pace with the man's incredibly wide strides.
The man looked behind him, a hint of astonishment appearing on his aged face
"Ezra," he grunted, his voice gruff but oddly comforting. "And you shouldn't be here. This city's gone belly-up."
His bright red hair, like the hues of a desert sky at sunset, stood out against his shining golden eyes.
They exited the alley and entered a busy street which was fortunately not filled with immediate fires. Yet, the scene that met their eyes was equally horrifying. Three civilians, with terrified expressions on their faces, were under attack by skeletons engulfed in flames. Their futile efforts to repel them were desperate.
Andre experienced a rush of adrenaline flowing through him. He tightened his grip on Voidbane, feeling the primal urge to intervene scream in his mind.
"Leave them," Ezra hissed, his voice tight with urgency. "Those are Infernals. You can't help them, not with that blade."
Andre gritted his teeth. "But we can't just leave them to burn!"
"And get ourselves killed?" Ezra retorted, his voice laced with a bitter truth. "Look, I got a very powerful weapon," he said, gesturing towards a shimmering gauntlet encasing his wrist, "but even that won't be enough against those things."
Then in an instant, Ezra whirled around at breakneck speed, his hand quickly moving to his side. A shiny rapier appeared in his hand, reflecting the strong sunlight with its polished surface. The tip was just a few inches away from Andre's throat.
"Who the hell are you?" Ezra growled, his golden eyes narrowed with suspicion. "And what is a demon doing waltzing into the Sunfire Dominion?"
Andre's breath caught in his throat. The tip of the rapier felt cold against his heated skin. But he calmed himself. He was a demon but he didn't want to tell Ezra as that would lead to some unforseen consequences.
"I… I'm Andre," he said his voice icy cold, his crimson eyes boring deep into Ezra's golden eyes. "I was drafted here. 10th Legion."
Ezra's forehead wrinkled further as the distrust in his gaze intensified.
He suddenly realised something, and with that a feeling of embarrassment washed over him. Andre could see it and he breatheda sigh of relief. The less people who knew who he was, the better. Ezra's stance eased as he brought down the rapier slowly, his golden eyes still on Andre.
"Look," he said, his voice rough with apology. "I… I thought you were something else. This city's gone crazy, filled with these damned demons and people just… combusting. Makes a man jumpy, you know."
"I understand," he replied, forcing a smile. "But I assure you, I'm no demon" The lie tasted metallic in his mouth. "Corvus sent me here. Leader of some big push operation."
Ezra's eyes widened. "Corvus? Leading a push? Here? To the Sunfire Dominion?"
"That's right," Andre confirmed. "Do you know anything about it?"
Ezra stared at him for a long while, his face unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he shouldered his rapier.
"Let's get out of here," he muttered, turning and resuming his hurried walk. "And then we talk."
They began to maneuver through the frantic masses, avoiding flaming infernals and scared civilians. The atmosphere in this place was uncomfortable, filled with a stifling warmth and a nauseatingly sweet smell that caused Andre to retch.
At last, Ezra came to a sudden halt in front of a huge building that towered over the city center. Andre vaguely recognized the style of the palace from stories from earth; it had white marble columns, intricate friezes showing battle scenes and mythical beasts, and a golden dome that appeared to mock the burning city below. However, unlike the heroic stories of hercules he faintly remembered watching on the Tv, this palace exuded a feeling of deterioration and a sense of being incorrect. Guards with pale, drawn faces stood at the entrance, holding their weapons more out of desperate hope rather than defiance, hoping not to attract attention.
One guard, a young man with sweat beading on his brow, hesitantly approached Ezra. "M-Master Ezra," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "You shouldn't be here. It's… not safe."
Ezra flashed him a reassuring smile, or at least what could be considered a reassuring smile on a face etched with worry. "Relax, Jory. We're just passing through. This… friend of mine needs an audience."
The guard glanced at Andre, paying close attention to the worn leather armor and the ancient sword he carried. A moment of recognition flitted through his eyes, quickly replaced by a flicker of a different emotion – perhaps fear, or even pity.
"Very well, Master Ezra," he mumbled, stepping aside with a resigned sigh.
They entered through the impressive doorway, the weighty redwood doors made a sound of discomfort. Indoors, the temperature was unexpectedly low, completely different from the intense heat continuing outside. Marble floors shone brightly in the faint light coming through colorful stained glass windows. Paintings decorated the walls, showing images of battles and victory, with the figures twistedin expressions of perpetual torment. The oppressive aura only intensified, a cold dread slithering down Andre's spine.
They made their way through never-ending corridors, with the only noise being the echoing sound of their footsteps disturbing the unsettling quietness. No servants or people were in the palace. A bad sign.
At last, they came to a stop in front of a set of huge black doors that appeared to radiate a dim red light.
Ezra paused, inhaling deeply as he hesitated above the intricately designed handle.
"This is it," he said, his voice low. "The throne room."
Andre felt a surge of fear as he swallowed and a sense of tension forming in his stomach. He had only felt this type of fear when he encountered the Vor'talon of Discord and the Vor'talon of Vengeance. He tightened his grasp on Voidbane, finding a bit of solace in the comforting feel of the worn leather handle in this disconcerting location. Ezra swung the doors open, uncovering a sight that took Andre's breath away.
Before him lay an expansive room, its walls adorned with dark tapestries illustrating scenes of fire and brimstone. In the middle, there was a figure on a throne made of obsidian that appeared to radiate an unusual warmth, looking like nothing Andre had seen before. A knight in shining black armor with a flaming skull as its face and two sinister horns on its forehead. Its fiery gaze was filled with a wisdom as old as time.
Bowing deeply, Ezra's words carried a blend of respect and fear.
"Lord Igrix, I present to you Andre of the 10th Legion."
Andre gazed intently, his thoughts spinning. This fearsome monster, this warrior with a head engulfed in flames... this was the Vor'talon of the Inferno. A solitary soldier from a land ravaged by war stood in front of him.
"A Legion Dog ," the creature rasped, its voice a crackling inferno. "What brings you to my domain.