Saramas Sector, Dark Lord.
The Tattooed Count Jando Skolevok, who had lost all his subordinates, followed the pale-faced Klosh to attend the Night Bat Council.
A one-and-a-half-meter blade hung at his waist as his black eyes swept over the Legion's upper ranks.
Aside from the traitorous Zso Sahaal, who had followed Nimrod, Nakrid Saul was absent as well.
Yet at a time when everyone was striving for ambition, the only one besides their father who could convene the Night Bat Council was First Company Captain Jago Sevatarion.
Of course, the more important reason was the threat posed by the Shadow of Order. Nearly every attempt to establish carrion enclaves had ended in failure under attacks from Nimrod's descendants.
I'm not the only one who has suffered setbacks, but I still have a chance to turn things around.
He stroked the blade at his waist, and a shriek pierced his mind.
"Accept my proposal. As long as you go there and complete a journey of six hundred and sixty-six years, you will gain immense power."
"You can kill Ramsey. You can kill Adams."
Skolevok had long grown accustomed to the Daemon's way of communicating. He murmured inwardly.
"The place you describe can only be called an inferno. Even Nostramo's darkest prison is ten thousand times better than that place."
"No. If measured in numbers, it is six hundred and sixty thousand times better."
"But it is worth it."
Just as Skolevok was about to retort, Sevatar rose and stepped into the middle of the gathering.
"Saul has become the Faceless Prince on Saramas. He has sworn to conquer Saramas and strip the skin from every person in the world."
Klosh let out a scornful laugh, while Skolevok stared coldly at his back.
As a lord of the Night Bat Council, the