Lear snapped back to focus, his gaze fixed on the Great Demon.
"How many Dark Night Elves are there?"
"At least a thousand!"
The Great Demon spoke with a touch of greed, his amber eyes full of yearning.
Fresh souls make for fine food.
And the souls of Dark Night Elves are particularly delicious.
Lear turned his head to look.
In front of him was an area full of tall wild grass.
Large patches of deep green intertwined with hints of yellowish vines.
It was completely untouched territory.
The leader of the Dark Night Elves—Isa, was now riding her Swamp Giant Horned Deer to Lear's side, speaking in a deep voice.
"Sir, I smell the scent of the Holy Song Clan... They must have discovered our escape route."
She remembered the scent of those foes clearer than anyone.
Lear nodded.
"That's right, the underground passage you took to reach the earth surface has been discovered by the Holy Song Clan... They've dispatched thousands of their tribe to the surface."
