"Motherfucker, he's practically superhuman!" the Undead grumbled slyly in hiding, cursing out loud as they watched the Beast Prime Minister slaughter his way through the foes.
Scar turned his head to look at them. He had always found their behavior strange today, but the chaos and quarrels outside had disrupted his thoughts.
"We've won!"
"The effect is good."
The Undead suddenly laughed, unsettling Scar.
During chaos, if someone could effortlessly grasp the trend of the battlefield, that chill would be more terrifying than a blade resting on one's neck.
"Who's left now?"
"The Beast Prime Minister, and, of course, the Lionheart King," said the Undead, unperturbed.
"What are you talking about?" Scar couldn't help but ask.
He had just been caught in the Beast Prime Minister's attack; a new claw mark slashed his face, and his cheek flesh bloomed like petals. The Beast Prime Minister's claws, with their backward barbs, were capable of tearing apart larger prey.
