"They're actually trying harder than I expected?"

It was an unexpected level of enthusiasm.

He had leveraged their past connections, but Ihan hadn’t truly expected things to go this smoothly.

"I only made the offer because they still smelled somewhat human…"

Had it been Numbers 5 and 6 instead of these two, he never would have proposed an alliance.

Those guys reeked too much of blood—both literally and figuratively—and Ihan knew too little about them to trust them.

Just like in any organization, people naturally formed cliques.

For Ihan, the ones he was closest to were Numbers 7, 11, 9, and 10.

…Though, 9 and 10 had tried to betray him and ended up dead by his hand.

Regardless, things had worked out in his favor.

Otherwise—

WHOOOSH!

CRACK!

"Watch yourself, Number 8! Even you won’t survive if you take that curse head-on!"

"What happens if I get hit?"

"Your loved ones could develop an incurable disease, or worse, your fingers could turn into tree branches."

"…Yeah, definitely not getting hit by that."

Because there was no way to counter it.@@novelbin@@

"That thing is terrifying."

It was even trickier than magic.

With magic, most attacks could be dealt with by blocking or enduring them head-on. But curses and sorcery?

Not only were they hard to avoid, but countering them was a nightmare.

It was a damn good thing he hadn’t killed Number 11—Yan.

He had intentionally left Yan alone, not just because he was a shaman, but because he knew exactly what that meant.

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