In a dark, gloomy chamber where four of the high-ranking demons, Astaroth, Baal, Azazel, and Grim, are gathered around a large table. The flickering candles cast a dim light on their faces, revealing their menacing expressions.
Astaroth, the King of the West, is a tall, muscular demon with red eyes and spiky black hair. He wears a dark cloak that reaches his ankles, and his skin is a dark shade of blue. He speaks with a deep, raspy voice that sends shivers down the spine of anyone who hears it.
Baal, the Duke of Hell, is shorter than Astaroth but no less intimidating. He has black horns protruding from his forehead and wears a red, leather outfit that shows off his muscular physique. His eyes are a deep shade of yellow, and his hair is a fiery red.
Azazel, the Prince of Hell, is the youngest of the group. He has jet-black hair that falls over his forehead, and his eyes are a piercing green. He wears a long, flowing robe that drags on the ground behind him, and his pale skin seems to glow in the candlelight.
Grim, the Lord of Darkness, is a hulking figure with broad shoulders and a muscular build. He has long, black hair that falls over his broad shoulders, and his eyes are a deep, dark brown. He wears a dark, hooded cloak that conceals his face and body, making him appear even more ominous.
As they sit around the table, Astaroth speaks up. "Have you heard the rumors about the four shadow emperors?" he asks, his deep voice resonating through the chamber.
Baal snorts. "Rumors? I don't believe in rumors. I only believe in what I can see and touch."
Azazel nods in agreement. "I agree. We shouldn't believe everything we hear."
Grim, who had been silent until now, speaks up. "I've heard enough to know that we should be wary of these four shadow emperors. If the humans were able to defeat us with their help, then they must be powerful indeed."
Astaroth nods in agreement. "Yes, we cannot underestimate them. We need to know more about their abilities and strengths if we are to stand a chance against them."
As they continue to discuss the four shadow emperors, their expressions grow more and more serious. They know that they are in for a tough fight, and they must prepare themselves for whatever comes their way.
...
Mammon, one of the remaining Satans, called for a meeting with the other high-ranking demons in a secluded cave in the depths of Hell. He knew that he had to tell the others about the power of the four shadow emperors, who had defeated three of their own in the war against the South.
As the other Satans arrived, Mammon began to speak. "Brothers, we have suffered a great loss in the war against the South. Three of our own have fallen to the four shadow emperors," he said, his voice laced with concern.
"What are you talking about?" one of the other Satans asked, confusion etched across his face.
Mammon explained, "There are four of them, each with unique abilities and strengths that we have never seen before. The first is the Fallen Arc Angel, who has the power to manipulate light and restrain our demoniv attribute. The second is the One-Eyed Ghoul, who has incredible speed and strength. The third is the Death God, who can kill with a single touch and drain the life force of his enemies. And finally, there is Fenrir, who has the ability to control and manipulate the elements."
"So the rumors are true?" Astraroth looked at Mammon solemnly.
The other Satans listened intently, their expressions shifting from confusion to dread. They had never encountered such powerful beings before.
"What can we do?" another asked, his voice shaking with fear.
Mammon sighed heavily. "I do not know. All I know is that we cannot underestimate them. We must be careful in our dealings with the South and these shadow emperors," he warned.
The other Satans nodded in agreement, their expressions filled with concern and apprehension.
"But what about our fallen brothers?" one of them asked. "What do we do about their deaths?"
Mammon's expression darkened as he replied, "We mourn their loss and honor their sacrifice. And we use their deaths as a reminder that we must be careful and strategic in our actions from now on. We cannot afford any more losses."
The other Satans nodded again, their expressions grave as they contemplated the gravity of the situation.
...
The high-ranking demons were gathered in their stronghold, surrounded by the remnants of their armies. The atmosphere was heavy with defeat and despair, and the demons looked at each other with a mix of anger, fear, and sorrow.
The First Satan, Astaroth, spoke up. "I cannot believe this has happened. We were supposed to be invincible. How could we lose to mere humans and their pets?"
The Second Satan, Baal, slammed his fist against the wall. "It's those shadow emperors. They're too powerful. Their appearance was unexpected. What's more, they are actually serving a human!"
The Third Satan, Azazel, sneered. "You're both cowards. We should have fought harder and smarter. We underestimated our enemies and paid the price."
The demons fell into a tense silence, each lost in their own thoughts and emotions. Some were filled with dread about the four shadow emperors, who had decimated their forces with ease. Others were consumed by anger and a thirst for revenge.
Grim, the Fourth Satan, spoke up, his voice calm and measured. "We must not lose hope. We may have lost this battle, but the war is not over yet. We still have our strengths and resources. We still have our power and influence. We can rebuild our armies, forge new alliances, and come back stronger than ever before."
The demons nodded, some more reluctantly than others. They knew that Grim was right, but it was hard to see a way forward in the face of such a devastating defeat.
Suddenly, the room was filled with the sound of a fierce wind, and a figure appeared in front of them. It was Mammon, the Fifth Satan, looking disheveled and battered.
"How's the taste of being a loser and deserter?" Astaroth demanded.
"I'm not a deserter! I escaped because it's foolish to thow away my life! The information I gave about the enemies strength and the three satans death is valuable enough," Mammon said, his voice strained.
"Well, I can 't blame you for that. However, as a satan, don't you have dignity?" Azazel sneered.
Mammon gritted his teeth. "It's none of your concern. What matters now is that we regroup and plan our next move. We need to kill that damned Fein!"
The demons exchanged wary glances, unsure whether to trust Mammon after his selfish escape. But they knew they had no choice but to work together if they wanted to conquer the South.
They began to discuss their options, their voices low and urgent. They knew that the road ahead would be long and difficult, but they were determined to reclaim their power and their pride.
This content is taken from (f)reewe(b)novel.𝗰𝗼𝐦