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The demons who had been chasing the young demon finally revealed themselves. Their eyes were crimson like fresh blood, and their brows furrowed with malice as they glared at Caron and his companions, who had captured the child.
A heavy silence settled over the wasteland.
The silence was broken by one of the demons—likely the leader of the pursuit team—who stepped forward and spoke with a voice dripping in contempt. "The stench of the continent reeks even here. What business do you pests have on this glorious land?"
A surge of dark mana pulsed from his body—an immense quantity, even at a glance.
If it weren't for Libre's translation magic, understanding him would have been impossible, yet Caron and his group caught every word without difficulty.
Caron smirked, pressing the crimson-tinted Guillotine against the young demon's throat. "Why do you think we're here?" he asked with a sneer. "We came to carve you up while you're still breathing."
His tone was crude, no better than that of a common thug.
The demons ground their teeth, gripping their weapons at the audacity of his words. Their murderous intent thickened, yet their hesitation betrayed something important.
Caron noted it instantly and thought, So this brat's worth more than I thought.
Normally, demons would have rushed in headlong, without question....
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