An Army of Dark Lords

Meanwhile, back in the ritual chamber, Rin stood, her chest heaving, her blood-red armor now streaked with sweat and… something that looked suspiciously like fear. The fight, though short, had taken a toll on her. She'd been facing a replica of the God of Darkness, a perfect copy imbued with a fraction of his power, and even that had been enough to push her to her limits.

But Andohr, lounging on his bone-carved throne, didn't look impressed. In fact, he looked… bored. Disappointed.

He took a sip of his wine, his lips curling into a sneer.

"That's it?" he chuckled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "That's the best you can do? You couldn't even finish off a clone of the God of Darkness easily?"

He shook his head, his gaze cold, calculating.