The fortress had long since been reduced to rubble. Due to the origin-power incendiary materials within them, the fires kindled with military fuel burned at extremely high temperatures. Many of the steel structures had melted into liquid metal.

Corpses from both factions had been burned together until there was nothing left but charcoal. It was impossible to differentiate between them.

Nighteye strolled around the fortress in silence before coming to a stop at the center. “Who will explain to me about this casualty rate?”

The dark race experts exchanged glances, unable to understand why Nighteye was suddenly angry.

Only the demonkin in charge of frontline command were alarmed. The highest-ranked among them was that old duke. He was clearly of a higher rank, yet he couldn’t help but tremble in fear as he stood before her.

Nighteye’s gaze landed on his body. “There are very few demonkin corpses and a lot of vampires. Especially that Count whatever…”

A vampire marquis moved close to her and said, “Count Hiller.”

“Right, that Count Hiller. You clearly...