Outside the Black Abyss, in The City of Vanishing, inside a certain general store.
"This is what you called foolproof?"
Old Demon Volpol's eyelids drooped as he toyed with a piece of crystal-clear Vine in his hand.
"My lord, the situation at the time…"
A Demon Clan member in black armor, black Smoke curling off his body, was kneeling on one knee, head bowed.
"I know the Feather Race people were present back then."
Volpol waved his hand.
"Many thanks for Lord Wopol's understanding."
The Black Smoke Demon secretly let out a breath.
"Who said I'd understand you?" Volpol tossed aside the Vine in his hand, glanced at the Black Smoke Demon, then continued, "I gave you this job to gild you, and who could've guessed, you went and plated yourself in bronze. Get out. You've disappointed me."
"My lord…"
The Black Smoke Demon's eyes turned red. That feeling of letting down someone's high expectations was awful.
"Down you go."
