The balors stopped midair, hovering above them like executioners observing prey.
Their shadows stretched long across the ground, flickering with flame.
Then one of them spoke.
The voice was a hiss, layered and distorted, yet it carried with the weight of thunder.
"You dare pass through our dominion…"
A pause.
Flames curled tighter around its form.
"Pay tribute in souls… or die."
The words settled over the field like a sentence already passed.
Behind Damon, a few goblins shifted uneasily.
Souls.
Not zeni.
Not mana cores.
Lives.
They were being asked to hand over their own.
Damon tilted his head slightly, as if considering the offer seriously.
"Interesting," he said, his tone calm, almost curious. "So you only want souls."
The oppressive heat pressed against him.
The infernal aura weighed down on everything around him.
He ignored it completely.
Then he lifted his hand and waved it lightly, dismissively.
"No," he said.
"That won't do."
