After speaking those words, Drae'mon stepped forward.
He had been Jeremy's first undead. He had every right to receive whatever their master was granting them first.
And everyone else agreed. Or at least, no one dared to openly object. Well, more or less.
A sharp gaze fell on the black skeleton. It was Leo'sol.
He didn't like being second. Still, he understood the situation. He might've seemed dumb—and he was, a little—but he knew better than to get angry over something so trivial.
After all, it would be his turn right after.
Meanwhile, Drae'mon stood in front of Jeremy. The skeleton's expression wasn't arrogant or anything else—it was simply stoic.
No emotion was visible on his face.
But not because he wasn't capable of them.
Simply because he understood his position. He was the first member of the Bone Legion. He couldn't act as he pleased in front of this crowd.
He had to be a symbol, an example.
But what did he truly desire?
