Hearing the hard, commanding tone of the high council, a faint trace of mockery flickered through Vincent's firebird eyes.
They really think too highly of themselves.
The fact that he was even willing to follow orders and bring Bree back safely was already more than generous.
And yet these old men dared to demand he return immediately?
Vincent looked at their projections, his voice measured and stern, "I am currently tracking a missing Rank Eleven insectoid. The battlefield has not yet been cleared. I cannot return at this time."
His tone turned colder.
He and his men had just fought through a brutal battle—some of his soldiers hadn't even received treatment yet.
And now, for the sake of one female, they wanted him to abandon everything and withdraw?
It wasn't as if she were dying. Nor did she hold any critical intelligence.
These people didn't care in the slightest whether his men lived or died.
