The Iron Thorn Conspiracy Group had suffered another crushing defeat.
This time, they had not only lost face, but even their three most important strongholds had been captured by the rebels.
Gregory Hernandez, ruler of the Iron Thorn Conspiracy Group and the current supreme overlord of Commorragh, wore an exceptionally ugly expression. His gaze was so gloomy it seemed as though water might drip from it.
The reason was simple. After this defeat, he had convened a council of nobles, yet only a pitiful few had come.
At least half of the nobles who had once flocked around him had failed to attend.
Some had been fiercely loyal, yet had died in the battles on the eastern and western fronts. Others had grown timid and used other pressing matters as excuses after the defeat. Some who had never been particularly obedient simply stopped answering his summons altogether.
The throne hall of the Shadow Spire had become empty and desolate.
It made this so-called supreme overlord look utterly ridiculous, like a clown!
Yet at the same time, it stirred a trace of... crisis within Hernandez's heart.
To obtain this position, he had poured his heart and soul into it, lying low for a full century. He had painstakingly woven and plotted a vast conspiracy, secretly allied with more than half the factions, and only then had he finally dragged Viktor—the man who had ruled Commorragh for nearly ten thousand years, whose name alone was enough to strike fear into every Dark Eldar—from his unshakable throne and cast him into the abyss, reducing him to his prisoner.
The old king was dead, and a new king had risen.
It should have been something worth celebrating.
But at this critical juncture, he had encountered that damned human!
Alvin Valshius—a despicable, shameless, utterly untrustworthy,