Lynch slowly rose from beside Red Rabbit and, flanked by his Skeleton Guards, walked toward the warrior leader.
The man wasn't dead yet. His body was still twitching, his gaze blurry and unfocused.
His heart was filled with endless regret and an inexplicable sense of the absurd.
Just a moment ago, he had sized up the young, black-robed Necromancer's aura and judged him to be merely a Tier One Mage.
Based on common sense and experience...
...an assassination squad led by a Tier Two Warrior like himself should have been more than enough to kill the target instantly, before he could react and summon a horde of Undead.
But why...?
Why did he have a Vampire servant who was at least Tier Three—or possibly even higher?!
How could such a rare, High-Tier Undead Creature obey a mere Tier One Mage?
'And that Black Corpse of his seemed absurdly strong, too. It had to be nearly Tier Three, right?'
'This isn't logical. It's completely illogical.'
He couldn't understand it at all.
