Slave B of Devonshire Camp had barely survived.
The other survivor who had been with him atop the bell tower on the outskirts of Benton had perished while being chased by the monsters.
"It's all because of that damn potion…!"
He had never imagined the potion would have such side effects.
Not Prince Lloyd, not Marquis Devonshire, not Devil, nor the survivor who had dragged him out—none of them could have predicted this.
The capital was already in shambles, but the potion they had spread had turned the disaster into something even worse.
Huff. Huff.
