"Thank you for waiting, everyone. I am Orgod, the King of Blood!" Orson smiled warmly at the group.
"A clone?" Demon Emperor narrowed his eyes, noticing something off. This Orgod's pupils glowed faint red, as if he was submerged in a river of blood.
"Hold up, I don't care what kind of king you call yourself. You want us to recall our beasts and then take on this whole army by ourselves?" The Beastmaster scowled at Orson with clear dissatisfaction.
Her Moonlight Guild had suffered heavy losses in this campaign. Out of her original five Domain Lord-class dragons, only two remained—one critically wounded and the other barely fit to fight. Vilitian beasts held tremendous value for any guild; their quantity and quality directly reflected a guild's power.
Nineteen dragons, chimeras, and Domain Lord-class beasts had already fallen. The player coalition had paid a brutal price, yet not a single complaint had been voiced as they kept fighting.
Orson had taken all of it in.
