In the Imperial Palace Hall, thousands of candles simultaneously dimmed, and then, as if to burn themselves out and bring dawn to this eerie and dark night, their light suddenly flared brightly.
One by one, the mutants were torn apart, their bodies sliced open by the bright sword light.
The flames sealed their wounds just right, preventing the infectious blood from flowing freely, and the nauseating smell of scorched flesh made the Greek nobles squint their eyes in discomfort.
They watched these demons being slaughtered like mowing grass, feeling both the relief of having escaped with their lives and a sense of sorrow for the eminent nobles who had been wiped out.
The flash of light cut through the darkness, illuminating the gloomy night.
In Ragaya's mind, a saying from the story of the Demon Hunter, inscribed on Geralt Van Helsing's sword hilt, popped up; it was so apt for the occasion.
"Will you surrender?"
