Boom!
"When will I be able to get stronger?"
A demon wearing a theater mask covered in cracks rose from among the rocky debris.
His clothes were in tatters, with tears in the fabric here and there, and through those tears, deep, bleeding wounds could be seen that were slowly healing.
"It's sad, it's so sad. I've tried so hard, and I've only made a little progress."
The Herald's feigned sad voice was tinged with frustration.
The cavern was gloomy, but for a demon, the darkness posed no problem.
Two tall, monstrous, dark silhouettes walked toward a crevice inside the cavern.
"You've steadily advanced to the Seventh Rank; many demons would love to be in your place."
A voice—somewhat hoarse and solemn, with a touch of malice—emerged from the crevice that the tall silhouettes had approached.
"How sad! And what good is that to me? I'm still weaker than that marquis. Isn't he wishing for my death?"
