It came as a snowglobe tipped... as a desert shaken. Perhaps it was ash or stardust that whirled across the Hall towards him. Or perhaps he simply imagined it.
Whatever the case... Asmodeus turned with a shiver to regard Jonathan Sasaki.
"It is him..." the demon whispered, enough so Chronos and ThE_DeAd could note.
"The Hall speaks his name... as the most powerful in the Vault War..."
What apprehension could be sensed, in the echoes of the demon's helm, were wholly incongruent with the sight before them. At the other end of the Hall stood an Asian boy in school uniform, holding a data tablet and looking unsure of his surroundings. Sasaki did not fit the image of a planar conqueror, any more than the bumbling Effort, who was known as the second most powerful among the worlds.
From this it was understood, at least to Asmodeus's conception, that Iwaku favoured not the warlords and creatures of fantasy, but rather the awkward hero. This was its zenith, this its epitome. For what did the epic tales of blood and magic matter when there were archetypes of such pathos as these?
He spat upon the floor, his disgust like a dark shiver through his feathers. He would stand with Chronos before either of those fools.
"I hope your blood will scrape as easily from my boots, Effort."
The threat was neither shouted nor murmured... but the words found the man, clear enough. There was no mistaking them. And... stranger still... Asmodeus kept his eyes on Sasaki as he spoke them.