A messenger arrived in a panic at Castle Blood in the capital of Blood Land to tell the prince to escape.  

“Your Highness, at this rate…!”

“Block them. Do it!”

“B-but…! It’s too dangerous. You should hide…!”

“Block them! Do you not hear my command?”

“Y-yes, Your Highness!”

The hall was always a solemn place where the four dukes and the thirty-six marquises met, but it was now in chaos. Urgent messages and communication magic poured down while the counts sent out orders.

Prince Domo leaned on the throne with his teeth clenched, watching the viscounts and barons preparing to protect the capital. He pressed his temples. ‘Where did things go wrong?’ After the great events of the fiftieth floor, which was called the Festival of Blood by rumormongers, Prince Domo barely managed to escape to Castle Blood, helped by the sacrifices of the marquises.

However, he was only delaying the inevitable. The casualties were great: his father the Gluttony Emperor, the four dukes who were the pillars of Blood Land, and half of the marquis-level...