Ancestor Borun hovered within the smoke-choked sky, a somber expression resting upon his aged face.
Sprawled beneath him was a ruined city of shattered buildings and severed bodies. The streets were drenched in deep mixtures of gold, red, and blue, while billions of corpses lay strewn across the land beneath a deathly silence.
Borun remained deep in contemplation. After all, his entire lineage had just been wiped clean within seconds. Well… almost.
The demon his youngest had foolishly offended had chosen to leave a single survivor alive. Him.
Borun wasn't stupid. He knew exactly why he had been spared, especially after the demon had calmly declared his name before leaving as though nothing in the world concerned him.
Every hunter who entered the Crown chased the same thing. Influence. Borun wasn't certain whether he should feel grateful for being left alive… or terrified that the demon had annihilated an entire stronghold, slaughtering billions merely to spread his name.
