"This is like trying to empty the ocean with a teaspoon," I announced to the empty Throne Room. Pixia, who had been alphabetizing a pile of newly acquired evil-looking scrolls, zipped over to my shoulder.
"My statistical models project a 94.2% probability of victory if we maintain the current strategy, my Lord," she squeaked, her voice a beacon of obnoxious optimism. "The attrition is working."
"The attrition is boring me to death, Pixia," I retorted, slumping deeper into my ridiculously uncomfortable throne. "And a bored Demon King is a Demon King who starts thinking about the gacha machine again. We can't have that. It's time to end this. It's time for the final move."
I stood up, my long, dark coat swishing around my ankles. I felt very dramatic.
"She's been reacting to our moves. Defending where we attack, pulling her forces back when we press too hard. She's waiting for us to make a mistake."