Carl Delon, Guild elder, seventy-three years old.
His left eye had been blinded forty years ago while hunting a vampire prince. He had refused an artificial eye ever since. Retired for five years, he raised horses in the New Mexico desert. The last time he had taken part in a large-scale operation was during the demon invasion six years ago.
His communication frequency had been abnormally active over the past seventy-two hours. It was not that he had contacted the Guild himself; rather, someone had intercepted intermittent communications between him and several old subordinates in the Africa branch over an old-fashioned radio.
"The Africa branch reports that Carl Delon arrived in Cairo on his own three days ago." Renault pulled up an unverified intelligence report. "He brought twelve old demon hunters who volunteered to follow him and is helping survivors along the Suez Canal evacuate inland. His exact words were, 'They're short-handed over there, so I'm going to lend a hand.'"
Wu Heng looked at the movement trail of that seventy-three-year-old, one-eyed man on the screen—the old man who should have been raising horses in New Mexico—and fell silent for two seconds.
"Confirm the appointment. Tell him he can lend a hand, but now he's in charge of the entire African war zone."
Renault's lips twitched, as though he were smiling, but on his exhausted face, it looked more like a spasm.
"South American war zone: south of thirty-five degrees south latitude and east of eighty degrees west longitude. Commander Sanchez."
Sanchez, former commander of the Colombia branch.
Four years ago, he had been suspended for three months after leading a team across the border without authorization to pursue a high-ranking vampire. A note in his combat record read: Skilled in jungle infiltration, proficient in cold-weapon combat. During his suspension,