"So if he installs a puppet Ravran king—"
"The Ravran race becomes the central pillar of demonkind," she finished. "And every other race is officially beneath them."
"That already seems to be happening."
"Yes," she agreed. "But this would make it irreversible."
That seems bad.... very bad.
Gargoyles.
Even thinking about them made my temples throb.
"They would make perfect weapons," I muttered. "If the Demon King gets control of them, they won't just be soldiers. They'll be siege engines."
Velra didn't argue.
She didn't need to.
Gargoyles were unmatched in durability. Stone bodies, magic-resistant cores, tireless stamina. In the game, it had taken coordinated heavy artillery and concentrated mana bombardment just to break a single frontline unit.
And that was with optimized players.
To face them in reality?
The headache was already blooming.
'I remember the final battle…'
A wall of gargoyles standing like an iron fortress at the front.
