"And this Crown Prince Damien—how did he manage to kill a Channel Forging Realm expert?"
The voice was calm, almost thoughtful, yet each syllable carried the weight of a blade unsheathed in a dark room.
"First some incompetent Gold Rankers, and now a Channel Forging Realm expert."
The speaker chuckled softly, though there was no amusement in her eyes.
"I'm very curious to know how a mere Iron Ranker could achieve such a feat. If we can extract his secret… ah, the Blood Fang would soar to new heights."
A gleam flickered in her gaze, sharp and hungry.
"It won't be long before the entire Wasteland bows before us."
Meanwhile, the man before her—the so-called Lord of Riverfall—was trembling like a sapling caught in the clutches of a hurricane. His shoulders quaked beneath his robes, his knees threatening to buckle with each word she uttered. His face had turned a sickly shade of white, drained of all color.
He wasn't listening anymore.
Not really.
