Konrad Curze had once thought the duty of "protection" would never have anything to do with him again.
He had been wrong.
He had been wrong about many things. Though he was unwilling to admit it, deep down, he knew that the mistakes he had made were probably beyond counting, too many to ever record.
This was one of them, and the newest one at that. Then would the deaths of those mortals in the base replace it?
Never.
That was his answer.
The Lord of Night howled through the rolling storm clouds with absolute resolve, darkness obediently opening a path before him. The flying demons that tried to block him never even managed to get close before blades of darkness pierced their brains. Driven by fury, Konrad Curze soon returned to his "domain."
He saw—
The base's original domed metal roof had been blasted open, leaving a gaping hole. Crimson energy crawled along the metal edges, and profane symbols had already been carved across its surface. The soldiers fought to the death on the walls, the roar of Pulse Rifles never ceasing for even a moment, and the traps they had dug in advance had also come into play.
The frail zombies were still at the very front, but this time, things were different.
There were not only zombies on the battlefield, but also dense swarms of creatures known as Imps. They were shaped like crimson beasts, with extremely limited intelligence, and in the eyes of those higher demons, their status was likely little different from that of zombies. Yet there was a fundamental difference between them and zombies.
Zombies were nothing more than corpses, humans transformed by Hell energy.
Imps were true demons. They moved quickly, their claws and fangs were sharp, and they were greedy by nature,