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Although Ambrose hadn't witnessed the battle firsthand, he wasn't worried about the members of the Elegiac Society at all.
They were undead who stood at the very pinnacle of the world, each one a master of their craft.
Facing a group of drow posed no risk of failure whatsoever. The only question was how long they felt like playing with them.
Ambrose had his own task to complete. Right now, he only hoped that the drow priestess, Trisna, wouldn't be distracted by the situation outside.
Clearly, Trisna was even colder and more ruthless than he had imagined.
She merely glanced down from the tower, confirmed that the drow were certain to lose, and then activated every magical defense of the tower before throwing herself fully into the sacrifice.
The ritual might not be completed perfectly, but surely the goddesses would forgive her.
Slave after slave was flayed and dismembered. The blood pool was already more than half full. With time running short, this was the best she could manage.
Trisna leapt into...
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