The battle had long ended. Conrad, along with the Dark Priest of the Black Fire Sect, was patrolling the battlefield littered with corpses. White smoke from the remaining embers wafted into the air, and the entire area was filled with the dead. Corpses of black-robed sect members, demons, and mercenaries lay strewn around; not long ago, these beings had been lively, existing in this world. But now, as their blood cooled within their bodies, their skin turned into something like rubber, making them resemble lifeless molds. He took a few steps and flipped over the body of a mercenary dressed in leather armor. The latter groaned—a sound that made the Demon Commander frown. He swiftly ended the man's life with another thrust of his sword.
Conrad looked up, his impatience evident as he spoke, "No, Duke Lune's only heir is not here. That guy Macaro—"
