The wind in Vandral's Spine was insanely hot, it was much higher than the Delmoor Ruins. The air had no warmth at all, it was like literally living within a furnace, laced with sulfur.
However, none of the Demons even slightly reacted to this intense atmosphere, since it was normal to them, they had lived all their lives in this atmosphere after all.
Albedo weaved through the crowd silently, but made sure to look around, constantly spotting new things every time, like the weapons on their belts, or the runes and magical brands etched into their flesh.
The Draconic aura he carried sat heavy on his shoulders, not something he consciously displayed, but it leaked nonetheless.
Lesser demons sidestepped without realizing why, vampires gave him a second glance before returning to their idle elegance, and more than one Lich tilted its skull as though tasting his soul in the air.
