"My lady! Our undead have gone out of control! They're shouting things we can't understand, like 'Lord of the Underworld' and 'the Underworld,' as they charge in and slaughter us! We were caught off guard and can't hold them back. The Flesh Rippers are helpless against them!
The blades of those Chaos vanguard troops are useless against the dead!
We've already suffered heavy losses. Please, think of something!"
The anguished voice of a member of the Deathfang clan came through the blood crystal. The panic in her voice, together with the distant sounds of explosions and screams of slaughter, made the severity of the situation unmistakable.
She had chosen the right way to call for help. Unfortunately, she had chosen the wrong person to call.
In a secret chamber somewhere in the underground complex beneath the Elven Court, the woman who received the plea seemed unconcerned by everything happening outside. She even thought these useless fools were such a nuisance. What in the world was wrong with this place?
Why couldn't they just leave a poor girl who was destined to die soon—but would definitely achieve her goal—with a little time alone?
So, with a touch of irritation, she picked up the blood crystal between her slender fingers and replied in a casual tone:
"Hold on!"
"W-what?"
The Deathfang clan member was dumbfounded by that reply. She had never expected her plea for help to get such an answer. Stammering, she said:
"But—but we can't hold on!
The Flesh Rippers are being slaughtered in formation by those damn armies charging out of Hell. The mad, half-crazed children of the gods are still resisting, but their discipline has always been a serious problem. I don't think they'll risk their lives to save us.
The undead—
The undead have gone mad!
They've