"Chh!"
Pale green blood splattered, but Patrick did not dodge, letting the blood sprinkle on the hem of his clothes.
"Truly a peculiar race. The fragrance of grass is mixed in their blood, and the scent is so unique that I feel killing them is a waste."
Patrick murmured to himself.
All around were piles of dragon elf corpses, this peace-loving and art-obsessed race had been brutally suppressed.
Patrick's feet were already soaked with blood, yet he still swung his weapon with an indifferent expression.
"Lord Patrick, we should leave here as soon as possible." A leader of the Dragon Iron Guard stepped forward to remind him.
"This place is Bisal, and it is said that every plant and every blade of grass is a subject of the Elf King, so everything happening here will be known to them sooner or later."
"Unless we can find a place not covered by grass."
The Dragon Iron Guard speaking wore a worried look, "After all, the Elf King is a Fifth Tier Transcendent."
"No need."
