Slow. They were always so slow.

It was ten hours ago that the dragon in human form was unleashed upon the Kremlin. That thrice damned fox and his bullshit plans, forcing him to go against the weaklings.

Thinking honestly, he was the only one apart from the damn cat who wouldn't kill them outright, accidentally or on purpose, but the cat had beef with the pervert. Still doesn't excuse the fox waking him up for mediocre opponents.

The Kremlin itself was still standing, but inside it was a scene from a horror movie. Blood and guts coated the walls as the guards and workers had been ripped apart with animalistic ferociousness. In what was once the throne room of the Tsars sat Belphagor (gods he hated that name) on a throne made from the torn out bones of his victims. It was impossible to see his face behind the bloodstained hood, and his body was covered in heavy metal restraints. In his hand he held the skull of the fool who thought he could command darkness, the flesh removed with vigor. Around him, Nobodies known as Warlocks worked to give the room a proper demonic atmosphere.

Standing from the chair, he threw the skull on the ground and crushed it.

[i][Color=crimson]"Minions of the Eternal Abyss, I offer you the blood, the bone, and the Heart of those who were arrogant enough to think they could control you. I ask that you aid me in the coming battle so that the Guardians of the Light may come into their own."[/color][/i]

Darkness began to seep deeply into the citadel, morphing it into a bastion of darkness. Shadows poured forth from the Kremlin, intent on consuming the city itself. Belphagor returned to his throne and began to sleep, awaiting the arrival of a true challenge.