The oppressive heat within the Vanguard's subterranean staging camp was thick enough to choke on.
Searing updrafts from the magma-trenches below carried the stench of ozone and roasting marrow throughout the expansive execution amphitheater.
Sunny stood upon the raised, heavily warded balcony overlooking the primary slaughter-pits.
His pale, aristocratic features were locked into a flawless mask of demonic apathy, though internally, he was entirely consumed by exhaustion and a throbbing migraine. He explicitly desired nothing more than to return to his isolated pavilion and sleep.
However, attendance at the Vanguard's mandatory 'Aura Synchronization Drills' was non-negotiable for Elite Commanders.
The drills were essentially public gladiatorial executions designed to weed out weak fiends and intimidate the lower ranks.
Hovering directly above Sunny's crown, projecting a localized, bruised-purple shadow over his face, was the Abyssal Void-Sac.
