"The Dark King sends his regards."
The voice was quiet. Almost forced, as if not in the habit of talking. The woman took her last breath as the words finished settling, and the figure bent down and drew the blade free in a single clean line of red.
The player's feed disconnected. The screen went black for the span of a single breath, and then another feed rose to replace it.
Then another beside it. Then a third to the left. The chamber was filled in seconds.
Five streams materialized around the gathered guild leaders and Grace, each one drawn from a different location, each one showing a different city that had been taken and transformed into a stronghold by the demon forces.
Five places that had been lost, that the world had grieved and written off and accepted as gone.
In each of them, something was moving.
Five individuals, distinct in shape and method, but identical in nature, and more importantly, each one is a player.
