The monster army halted over a kilometer away from the final bastion of the Clan's northern borders. Damien stood with a subtle smile, crossing his arms, and spoke calmly.
"Should I be honored?"
"To have a True Blood deployed is an occurrence only a Paragon could undertake."
Hovering between the final bastion and the monster army was a tall, golden-haired middle-aged man. His skin was pale as snow, fangs protruding from his lips.
It was the guardian of the north, Marquis March.
The True Blood narrowed his crimson gaze, glaring at the conqueror who had penetrated deep into their lands. It was a humiliation that ran deep.
Especially towards his name.
Three strongholds had already fallen into humanity's hands as the storms above yielded to bring the warmth of the sun.
"You shall pay for what you have done, beast."
