The vast, rundown castle-like chamber seemed to echo with a silence that carried a weight of impending doom.
The dimly lit room was cold, the air thick with tension, as seven figures stood in a line before the imposing figure seated on the throne.
Draped in a black cloak, the person on the throne—known only as "Devil"—radiated an aura so oppressive that none of the seven dared to raise their heads.
Even the flickering torches on the walls seemed to bow in deference to his presence.
HQ stood at the back of the line, his eyes nervously darting to his phone, which had remained frustratingly silent for weeks.
His jaw clenched, and a frown marred his features as he dialed once more, the call echoing into nothingness.
For what felt like the hundredth time, there was no answer.
His heart raced.
Were his subordinates rebelling?
Ignoring his direct orders?