Northern Wasteland, Fire-Burning Valley.
Thousands of Devils had gathered, led by the King of Lies and accompanied by two Archdukes.
Because this new long-range mass teleportation technology had a limited throughput, the Devils couldn't send an army that was too large.
A few thousand Devils was already the upper limit for a single teleportation.
Belial had been forced to pick only the best of the best, choosing Devils with the greatest combat strength.
The teleportation array was about to activate.
The unease in Belial's heart grew stronger and stronger.
It had probably started about a month ago, and as the day of the operation drew closer, his unease had nearly become panic.
But he couldn't show it.
He was the Devil in charge of the operation. A high-ranking Devil couldn't show unease; that was practically the same as sending every subordinate a signal: "This Devil is finished. It's time to challenge him."
Belial had concluded that his unease probably came from how smoothly the preparations had gone.
He found it somewhat amusing that this was the reason he'd come up with.
So things couldn't go too smoothly?
But if he thought about it carefully, not one of the undercover Devils he'd sent out had been exposed, none of the preparations had leaked, and even the fabricated prophecies aimed at the continent's seers hadn't been found out.
Each of those things, taken individually, was naturally good news.
But they had all happened.
They shouldn't all have happened.
If the various nations of the continent were truly that incompetent, they wouldn't have been able to keep the Demonfolk trapped in the Northern Wasteland.
Things going this smoothly gave Belial the distinct feeling that he might be walking into a trap.
But he had only suspicions, not evidence, and the other Devils hadn't