The Queen Mother, Lachapelle, possessed tremendous power. In the air above the boundless desert of the seventh floor of the Necropolis of the Gods, the wind blew the sand as Desri, Linley, Fain, and the other human experts, along with Bebe and the other magical beast experts, stood there in mid-air. All of them were seriously pondering their next steps.
“If we don’t have any hope at all, I recommend…giving up.” Desri forced the words out.
The other experts all looked towards Desri.
“Give up, just like that?” Fain’s eyes had a hint of unwillingness.
They had waited a thousand years for this opportunity, and they had even passed the sixth floor. He was indeed rather unwilling to give up this opportunity now.
“We have no hope at all.” Desri shook his head. “A single tendril of Queen Mother Lachapelle’s is already so durable, and she has thousands on thousands of them. More importantly, even if you break those tendrils, they’ll naturally regrow.”
