These women each possessed a unique and powerful system of abilities, with utterly different temperaments.
Yet at this moment, they formed an unbreakable, dazzling formation centered around Loren.
Their gazes were cold, sharp, proud, or blazing with fighting spirit.
But without exception, every one of them was focused on him.
The retaliatory magic Mephisto had gathered rapidly melted away before this immense, silent pressure, like a snowman beneath the sun.
The knuckles of the hand gripping his ruby staff had turned white. The anger that had flared within him over the insult to his territory was thoroughly doused by a bucket of icy water called "reality."
Facing Loren alone, he might still have considered making a desperate stand or negotiating for room to maneuver.
But before such a group of "followers," each with a different presence yet all clearly powerful and obedient to Loren's command, any thought of resistance seemed foolish and futile.
Loren took a step forward. It was only a tiny step, yet it felt as though the center of gravity of the entire formation had shifted forward.
It made Mephisto instinctively retreat half a step, his back striking the cold railing of the tower.
"Mephisto." Loren spoke calmly, yet his voice reached the Hell Lord's ears more clearly than the roar of artillery fire just moments ago, shaking his soul directly.
"Your little tricks wasted some of my time."
Mephisto opened his mouth, wanting to argue, to rage, to employ one of his schemes to beguile others.
But beneath Loren's utterly calm gaze and the almost tangible stares from behind him, every word lodged in his throat.
He could feel that the red-haired witch's Chaos Magic had silently enveloped the area, sealing off space.
"I'm giving you two choices." Loren's voice continued, carrying no threatening tone as