Strangely, the Hawklings only fell silent.
Not a single one of them even called out worriedly to their half-brother. In fact, one could even sense a faint sense of glee in them.
Eleventh's death meant one less competitor for the throne, after all.
They didn't have the luxury of staying still for long, however, as the fell demon responsible for their brother's death was already on the move again.
This time, Shye's target was a short young woman wearing a golden mask marked with the number thirteen on her forehead.
The cries of death, agony, and anguish behind him were growing fainter by the moment.
Time was running out for Shye.
While he was confident in his ability to escape alone, he was currently in a moderate bloodthirsty trance and unwilling to leave before killing three Hawklings in honor of Tigren, Stonecold, and most importantly, Feather—the commander-level figure he liked the most among the three.
