"Your Grace, please reconsider!"
Sweat and tears had already mingled on Gukasho's face. The mixture of translucent liquid fell onto the carpeted floor like raindrops, leaving a clear trail for Frankenstein to clean. The manor’s cleanliness was the least of his concern—he was racing to catch up with the lengthy strides of his master, who had decided to embark on a suicidal mission: declaring a trial by combat with both his life and title at stake.
His master, Grand Duke Beelzebub the Glutton, was clad in his combat uniform forged from the purest minerals of the deepest Nether World mountains. The clash of iron ore and mithril echoed through the halls—a sound Gukasho thought he wouldn’t hear again for another millennium. Yet here he was, chasing after his master, who was hell-bent on sacri
