The Silver-Haired Witch's furious shriek pierced the clouds and echoed over Newborn Town for a long time.
Her face flushed crimson, Caroline stamped her foot hard, turned, and stormed off. In her haste, the lace trim of her gorgeous gown caught on a roadside shrub. She tugged it free awkwardly and rushed into town without looking back.
Veylin stood where he was, a little bewildered. He had merely proposed a more rigorous contingency plan.
What was wrong with that?
The logic was flawless.
Yet he no longer had the energy to delve into the workings of a woman's mind.
The next moment, a tidal wave of cheers engulfed him completely.
These cheers were no longer merely a tribute welcoming a victor. They were the release of emotions long held in check.
The residents of Newborn Town, whether blacksmiths, farmers, or artisans, looked past Veylin and fixed their eyes on the enormous, almost unreal Giant Crocodile carcass being dragged along by dung beetles.
Its body was broader than an ox cart, its bizarre form was covered in vines, and its gaping maw radiated ferocity even in death.
Many of them had only ever heard of monsters of this caliber in their elders' drunken tales.
Now it was dead.
It lay right before them.
And the man who had killed it was their lord.
The way the crowd looked at Veylin changed completely. Their respect and affection rapidly deepened, transforming into something close to fanatical worship.
They could not understand how this enormous beast had been killed, nor could they imagine the power it must have taken.
In their simple view of the world, this was already beyond human capability.
Their lord could do anything.
In the meeting room of the Lord's Manor, no one dared break the silence.
Caroline had