The Demon King was very small.
Though Delta was small, her presence was overwhelming.
Long black horns grew from her head, and a long black tail trailed behind her. At a glance, she looked like a black Drak. She dragged two greatswords in her hands, leaving two clear tracks behind her as she marched onward, stretching all the way to the edge of sight.
"Be careful. I'm only taking one life."
The moment those words left her mouth, Delta became the Demon King herself.
"State your name!"
Someone shouted back.
Did they learn that response from some storybook novel? Rita silently mocked from behind them, doing her best to keep her expression unchanged.
Delta still wore a sullen face and gave no reply.
How could a Demon King tell others her name the moment they asked? Accepting every question like that would be terribly uncool.
Silently, she raised both greatswords. Her body vanished amid a burst of speed, and soul-stirring footsteps immediately echoed through the air like war drums, her small feet seeming to stomp upon everyone's hearts.
The distance of several hundred meters vanished in an instant.
Next came the performance of Landon Monastery's apprentice monks.
They assembled in silence, swiftly forming a formation best suited for fighting many against one: main attackers, flank cover, and a close-guard unit specifically tasked with protecting the commander.
"Fight while retreating. Protect the target."
The members of this squad were clearly equals, yet they seemed capable of spontaneously producing a commander. They wasted no time on the matter and displayed a reliability completely unlike before.
Sure enough, no matter how unreliable they were, they were still students of Landon Monastery.
At this level, they seemed to have already been organized into a rudimentary special operations unit, roughly on par with Rhodes Island's