In the shadows of the city, invisible to the naked eye.
As they watched the soldiers gathering up the corpses, neither of Dimogegen's two heads spoke.
Neither showed any particular emotion.
Whether it was the mountain of corpses gradually rising higher and higher, or the blood flowing freely everywhere, it was nothing to them.
Over their long lives, they had long since grown accustomed to such sights.
Even blood-and-flesh slaughterhouses far crueler than this.
In their eyes, they were merely trivial matters that stirred not the slightest ripple, at most a kind of scenery.
Naturally, Marquis Kant's situation had not escaped their notice either.
Whether it was his thoughts or his state of mind.
In their view, his reaction was a laughable, boring affair, barely enough to count as amusement.
It could only be said that some of those who pledged allegiance to them would, afterward, inexplicably be consumed by regret and confusion.
But what was done was done.
What use was regret?
It only added pointless anguish.
Like a clown, really...
Situations like that had happened many times in the past, were happening many times in the present, and would surely happen many times in the future. Like lessons that could never be learned, there would always be someone stepping into the trap.
Take Marquis Kant, for example.
In his youth, he had been a ruler who restored his house to prosperity.
Through wind and rain, he had wielded sword and ridden horse into hundreds upon thousands of fierce battles.
The scars large and small across his body were beyond counting.
In the end, through years of fighting and killing, he had forcibly pulled his declining family back to strength.
He had also forcibly built this impoverished place, once nothing more than a shabby little town, into a renowned