“Brock?” The Demon King said, “What brings you all the way here? I remember you should be on the Dawn Continent.”

Brock fell onto one knee. “Your Majesty, I apologize. I have failed.”

The Demon King’s expression remained calm and gentle. “Oh? Now, this is a surprising outcome. The Masefield clan lord reported that the Dark Gospel Howard is on the verge of death from his injuries. With you and George working together, in addition to Master Mitas’ oversight, you should’ve gained a marginal victory if not a big win.”

Habsburg frowned unnoticeably—these demonkin experts were famous experts in the Evernight camp. George was a bit younger than the rest, but Grand Duke Brock was almost comparable to a prince. They had dispatched two famed experts and a warlock to hunt down some escaped vampires from the Twilight Continent.

That warlock was especially impressive. The man hadn’t been seen on the battlefield for quite some time, but Habsburg remembered through Metatron’s memories just how difficult it was to fight an army under his command. His secret arts and superior weapons would improve his troops’ fighting power exponentially. Howard would have a hard time fighting him even if he were at his peak.

Brock bowed deeply. “I rushed too far ahead before they were in position. In the end, I only managed to save a small portion of the vanguard, and my airship was also destroyed.”

The Demon King placed the book to one side, his gentle expression fading away. “This isn’t good news. Did you come all the way here to ...