Mist Forest, Elf King City.
Fairy Kings from six major clans gathered in the majestic hall, nervously reporting to the Queen on the forging of the "Holy Sword."
"There's still one-third of the progress incomplete? Too slow!"
Morgan frowned to express dissatisfaction, and immediately commanded,
"I'll give you three more days. If it's not completed, I'll nail you to the square!"
Hearing the murderous intent in those words, the six Fairy Kings instantly recalled that blood-red moonlit night, and couldn't help but shiver, nodding repeatedly like pecking chickens in agreement.
Immediately, the six Fairy Kings fled back to the forge in a rush, preparing to hasten the production, determined to deliver before the deadline.
Otherwise, they'll have to join those unfortunate fellows from the Clan of Teeth down below.
Watching the six Fairy Kings leave, Morgan's once straight back suddenly slumped, and she began to cough violently.
"Mother!"
"Ash!"
