The Bard had been stripped of power by the Succubus Queen, but his reputation remained. At the very least, he could still choose whom to promote to the Elite.
But Annan could not expect the other Elites to cooperate with him, much less share their resources. Only Prince Aidan and the Grayfur Rat Priest might do that.
The former wanted friendship. The latter wanted Annan's body.
"That's fine. If they won't give me anything, I'll take it myself." Annan was unfazed.
As for robbing his own people... When the Chaos Cult did it, could it really be called robbery?
The Bard said nothing about that. "I hope the cult will have changed a little by the time I return."
"Where are you going, big brother?"
"To experience chaos."
The Bard was like the wind. He never stayed anywhere for long.
With the Bard gone, Annan had lost the backer he had only just found.
Still, after only two days, Annan had risen to stand as an equal beside Elites like Gray Mist and Black Monkey.
The first thing he did after his promotion was encourage everyone to send their wounded to him. But no one was a fool. When everyone sent to him died, who would send anyone else?
Even when Annan offered an Annan figurine with every treatment, no prey came walking into his trap.
As the "opportunity" the Bard had mentioned drew closer, Annan gave up waiting for prey like a spider.
"Hey, where's that figurine you promised? Let me see it."
One day, Annan had barely stepped outside when a deep, gravelly voice spoke beside his ear.
"Who said that?" Annan looked around.
"Filthy demon! You dare insult the mighty dwarves!"
Catching the word "dwarf," Annan looked down. Sure enough, a tuft of "weeds" lay sprawled across