The Royal Armada stretched across the frozen tundra for miles.
Millions of heavily armored men, siege mages, and heavy cavalry lay completely motionless in the snow.
They were not dead. They were trapped in a profound, biological coma induced entirely by the Warlord's new Tier 9 artifact.
The Heart of Ruin pulsed steadily on Lucifer's hip, projecting the suffocating Fear of the Predator aura.
Lucifer sat on his Nightmare Steed at the edge of the five-mile Cryo-Pylon ring.
"The perimeter is secure, Grand Marshal," High Ranger Celeste reported. She rode her armored dire wolf up to Lucifer, her scarred face tight with adrenaline.
"The Vanguard is inside the walls. The Star-Kissed Elves are manning the upper battlements. We are ready for the ascension protocol."
"Good," Lucifer said smoothly.
He didn't turn his Nightmare Steed around immediately. His void-swirling eyes scanned the massive, unconscious Royal army.
