"Have we… been sold out?" Presia's eyes widened, a bit dumbfounded.
Yes, sold out, Aiden thought to himself.
He had considered the possibility of being backstabbed or betrayed by the witches' conclave, just not that they would discard their dignity so quickly.
At most, he had envisioned a scenario where, after defeating Father Bales, the witches' conclave would forcibly claim the remains and steal all the spoils of war.
Yet the conclave began selling them out as soon as the fight erupted. Aiden had thought these people had some sort of limit no matter how low they stooped, especially since their early defeat wouldn't bode well for the conclave either.
He could imagine the kind of trouble Lamia was encountering, having just faced a battle nun carrying Father Bales' offspring.
If the thirty-two novice nuns hoarded in the mines had all received Father Bales' blood and bore the offspring of chimeric beasts, then what Lamia faced was essentially a horde of demonic beasts.
