~ZEPHYRUS' POV
The sun, or what passed for sun in the Infernal Realm was barely a sullen glow over the horizon as I materialized on the training grounds.
The air was filled with a metallic scent of blood and the acrid tang of brimstone, a familiar scent that stirred something primal in me as I surveyed the assembled ranks of soldiers.
Hundreds of demons, each one a weapon in flesh, waiting to be sharpened, molded, broken, and reforged.
"Attention!" I barked, my voice cutting through the morning mist.
Immediately, their heads snapped up, eyes widened and muscles tense. The ring of warriors before me didn't just obey, they feared me.
"Your bodies are weapons," I continued, pacing the stone floor like a predator circling prey.
"Your minds are armor. You think you are strong? You are weak. You think you can endure? You have not endured anything yet."
My words weren't for comfort; they were shaping the warriors, and bending their wills.
