The infernal realm looked worse than Azryth had expected.
It wasn't destroyed or burning, it was just... neglected. Five hundred years of Veyrith's rule had left visible marks on infrastructure that should have been maintained, wards that should have been reinforced, anchor points that should have been stabilized.
He stood in what used to be the administrative wing of the palace, looking at reports demons had compiled over the past day. Population counts, territorial disputes, resource allocation failures, structural damage to dimensional barriers.
Veyrith had let it all fall apart while focusing on his obsession with forcing the realms to merge.
"Lord Azryth," one of the senior demons said, approaching with the kind of cautious deference that suggested he was still waiting to see if Azryth would execute him for serving Veyrith. "The northern territories are reporting instability in the barrier anchors, they've been degrading for decades."
"How many decades?"
