· The Beginning of the Slaughter

At the grand banquet, Lax chatted merrily with the plenipotentiaries of the former major races—now the various ministers of the Elven Gard Alliance. In a corner of the banquet hall, Clammy puffed out her cheeks and glared fiercely at Lax, who was surrounded by a dense crowd, occasionally snatching up the wineglass beside her and downing a mouthful.

Even the ministers of the various races who had wanted to come over and curry favor with her tactfully kept their distance. Still, they did not give up; they merely watched Clammy in silence, planning to approach once her anger had mostly subsided. After all, no matter how one put it, Clammy was one of the kings of the Elven Gard Alliance, and she still held half the authority over the Elves.

Under the moonlight, the Elven Gard Alliance's first banquet grew livelier and livelier. Meanwhile, elsewhere, time rewound to one day earlier.

White. White, and still more white.

The sky, the ground, and everything around them was a pure white space. In this dead-silent realm, there was no air, no gravity, no up or down or left or right, not even the spirits that existed everywhere in the Game of Life World. The only color in the pure white world was at its center.

Tens of thousands of Dragonia surveyed the pure white space around them, a hint of caution and astonishment in their dragon eyes. Just moments ago, they had been pulled into this place without sensing a thing. One had to know that even the weakest Dragonia present was comparable to a lower-ranking Old Deus, while the strongest among them, [Wise Dragon] Reginref, was only a hair weaker than the God of War, Artosh.

And yet, even so, they had been dragged into this unfamiliar space without the slightest