Molantro gradually regained her composure.
The hysterical fury born of her lingering fear subsided. The priestess stood still, holding her five-headed Serpent Whip at the edge of a rooftop above a sea of yellow-green clouds, replaying the lightning-fast battle in her mind.
A well-equipped, well-trained noble swordsman had hidden somewhere and attempted to assassinate her using Misty Step.
The drow warrior had moved with astonishing speed, and his towering stature far exceeded what a male ought to possess.
Her two guards, meanwhile, had been crushed as easily as a pair of feeble goblin slaves.
Molantro's lips twitched despite herself. That half-drow with orc blood had even boasted that she was a veteran mercenary from the Gray Zone who had killed more than a dozen people...
These commoners really were all useless!
Perhaps she should cut out their tongues. Yes, while they were still alive, slice by slice. Only then would those mongrels of impure blood understand the price of making wild boasts to a priestess...
Molantro's newly steadied emotions began to surge again, her chest heaving.
Hiring these Gray Zone commoners had been a complete mistake. She was wasting silver!
Perhaps she should spend a little more and find some true drow to serve as her guards.
Women's ambitions were always difficult to control, so it would be best to choose loyal males, like that noble swordsman wreathed in black smoke...
Blood seeping from her nose stained her collar and dripped onto the front of her black robe. A faint ringing filled her ears, as though someone had placed an insect deep inside them and left it chirping incessantly.
A headache struck.
Molantro hurriedly gripped the Holy Symbol at her chest and murmured an incantation. A gentle Healing Light shone, enveloping her entire body.
The demon's sonic attack made no