“Iron Lion Clan.”

“Are you allies or enemies?”

Creutz could see a group of defeated players as he and the Illusion Knightage soared through the sky of the twentieth stage. They were injured and their armor crushed. Many of the players could barely move and had to lean on each other.   

He had already seen many players like this, and he was about to pass them when he saw a banner hanging limply over them. The greatest mercenary group, the Iron Lion Clan, looked like a mess. 

Even the Illusion Knightage found them a challenge, and if Iron Lion, their leader, weren’t a mercenary, they would have long been considered one of the emerging clans. And yet now, they were in a pathetic state.

Considering that they’d taken so many players along, it seemed like eighty percent of them had disappeared. They had been almost completely destroyed.

The Iron Lion Ivan looked at Creutz with sharp eyes. He seemed about to raise his sword. Creutz swallowed. An injured beast was still a beast. Ivan’s murderous aura wasn’t normal. 

‘Is he just more sensitive because he’s hurt?’ Then there was no need to aggravate him. Ivan was a sunbae he admired, so Creutz replied...