Amon remained seated on the main throne of the lower hall, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair and his fingers slowly pressing against his temples. His expression was not exactly angry. Nor was it ordinary surprise. It looked like the face of someone who had just discovered that every political calculation built over centuries had been destroyed by a single person in less than one night.
Before him, Sepphirothy stood with her arms crossed, appearing far less concerned than the situation required. She had already explained what had happened in the Abyss, but Amon still seemed unable to accept the full scale of the problem. Five of the Seven Deadly Sins had been killed. Wrath had disappeared long ago without leaving a recognized successor, and Pride had officially remained dead since Lucifer's fall. To any reasonable person, that meant a fundamental part of the infernal order had just collapsed.
