"No matter what, we still have to try."
After a moment's thought, Dunn said to Annie, "Contact that Minotaur chief. I want to meet him alone."
Less than a hundred years had passed since the Minotaur race came into existence.
A Minotaur's normal lifespan was around a hundred and fifty years.
In other words, the first generation of Minotaurs should not yet have reached the end of their natural lives.
In reality, however, after less than a hundred short years, the mainstay of the Minotaur population was already its third and fourth generations.
As a Lesser Race, the Minotaurs lived in the most desolate stretch of wilderness on Campbell Island.
Their living conditions were extremely harsh, even though Minotaurs reproduced faster than humans and possessed tremendous endurance.
Even so, fewer than half of their young survived.
And even that was largely thanks to their ability to stomach just about anything-they could survive on grass...
Cairne Bloodhoof was the Minotaur tribe's eighth chief. All seven chiefs before him had given their lives to keep the tribe alive.
As the successor designated by the previous chief, Kane was naturally prepared to do the same.
But he had never found an opportunity.
Kane had been rather excited to hear of Dunn's rise as the new Pirate King. After all, a newly enthroned Pirate King was bound to disrupt the balance of power across the island.
Then the Minotaurs' living conditions would improve somewhat, too.
As for seeking a share of the benefits, well—the Minotaurs weren't qualified for that yet.
Even though they possessed the strongest fighting force on the island below Legendary rank.
During the previous two meetings, Kane had remained huddled in a corner, quietly observing the new Pirate King.
Adult Minotaurs generally stood over three meters tall. A powerful Minotaur