Tri

392nd lay gasping in a pool of his own blood. By his sides, his companions lay limply, having already bled out.

The despair in their eyes was palpable, even in death.

Never did they think that they, who had futures so bright and aspirations so tall, would fall like this.

They were Ruin Masters. Even compared to others, they would have a bright future. Women, men… money, endless pools of wealth… prestige, respect…

These were a number of things that they had already had before they were Lords, let alone now that they were Lords set on becoming the best of the best—even Dao Gods in the future.

Even if they didn't make their names ring in this Title Stele event, how many could? There were only 11 such geniuses they knew of that stood at that pinnacle before the appearance of Ryu. How could these 11 divide up the world all to themselves?

There would obviously be those who remained to pick up what scraps were left.

And now…