In the devastated capital of the Clan, Duke November was surrounded by several monstrous abominations. Regardless of how much he utilized his temporal domains, the True Blood could barely keep up against the horrors before him.
"Damn it!" He cursed while avoiding the bite of Ragnarok, who trampled onto the Gothic castle of the capital. His crimson gaze widened, realizing the situation he confronted.
Duke November was fighting a losing battle with no reinforcements. It would only be a matter of time until he was defeated by these monstrous abominations.
With this in mind, he turned his attention towards the coordinates where the progenitor disappeared and took a deep breath.
Even though his loyalty ran deep, his mind remained rational.
The conclusion to his resistance was death. A demise without any meaning. An end he'd rather avoid, especially as a long-lived being.
