"The Demon Hunter Guild's 'Demon Hunter Knights'—all ten have completed their modifications. Their energy readings... are more than three times our previous estimate."
Bartholomew's hand tightened.
"Three times."
"Yes, and... according to our intelligence, their bodies have been reshaped by angelic energy and infernal metal. They are... no longer human."
Bartholomew remained silent for a long time.
He looked at the shield, then at the endless desert beyond it.
"They want to come in?"
The adjutant said nothing.
Bartholomew turned around. His face was obscured by shadow, but his eyes glowed with a faint golden light, like two lamps on the verge of going out.
"Tell them to hold the barrier. Without my orders, no one is to go out."
"Yes."
"And accelerate the energy recovery. Use every method available."
The adjutant hesitated.
"My lord, if... if we use those methods, it may cause internal..."
"Cause what?" Bartholomew's voice turned cold. "Dissatisfaction? Rebellion? Let them look outside. Those ten things are waiting out there. Anyone dissatisfied can go out and reason with them."
The adjutant lowered his head.
"Yes."
Hell, Seventh Layer, Crowley's palace.
Crowley sat upon the restored throne, holding a glass of red wine.
It was an '82 Lafite freshly looted from the human world. It tasted good, but he could not taste it.
He stared at the enormous energy-monitoring screen before him.
Ten points of light flickered across the screen. They were the energy signals of the ten Demon Hunter Knights. Each was more than ten times stronger than those angels, so bright that the signals were almost blinding.
The adjutant stood nearby and carefully said, "My lord, according to our intelligence, those ten people's strength..."
"I know," Crowley cut him off.
He set down his glass, rose to his feet, and walked over to the screen.