Gates of Hell

Dyon smiled lightly as a slight relieving laughter swept through the group. 

They knew well how fiery the temper of their leader was, but they also appreciated that he could joke around with them like this. 

Some among the geniuses chosen had been by Dyon's side long before he reached such an overwhelming height, so they knew his words weren't empty. 

"That said… Anyone who slights our Mortal Alliance deserves a punishment fitting of their crimes. You are all my Sacharro Clan's chosen seedlings. I have high hopes for you all. I don't expect you to lower your heads to anybody, nor would I ever ask you such a thing. 

"Perform well and earn the right to your pride. Maybe in a hundred years, the tower quadrants will be our own to command." 

The involuntary Presence laced within Dyon's words made the geniuses tremble. It was clear a fire had been lit in each and every one of them.