The adjutant introduced everyone: "This is Brigadier General Morag, this is Brigadier General Bart, and this is Brigadier General Norman... Gentlemen, it seems our goodwill has been misunderstood. Could you take care of the Gospel folks?"
The bats flying above the banquet hall immediately returned to the body of the Blood Saint of Legend. The pale-faced Morag gave a cold smile: "Apologies, perhaps it's a cultural gap, but this is our way of greeting among the Blood Moon Legends, with no offense meant."
"That's right," said Blood Saint Fishman Bart, exposing his sharp teeth, "Where are the legends here? We're eager to exchange with the legends of other nations."
Norman, wearing a mask, said nothing, but his cold gaze swept across the room. Those under his gaze felt a discomfort akin to being licked by a giant snake. The seed of fear quietly planted in their hearts, even the Gospel's protection couldn't awaken their courage.
