In the grand hall of an opulent manor, an oval, log-colored long table took center stage, flanked by chairs on either side. Around the table sat an assembly of individuals, an air of gravity filling the room.

Among them, Amy, the stoic Shadow High Priest, graced the second seat, while the hulking Grot, a former northern warrior now transformed into a level 16 Blood Clan, occupied the head seat. The once rugged warrior had undergone a striking transformation, his features refined, exuding a captivating aristocratic aura.

Joining Amy and Grot at the table were fifteen influential figures, each possessing remarkable abilities, their presence elevating the room's atmosphere. Despite their collective prowess, a palpable sense of unease hung in the air.

A cloud of uncertainty loomed over the Dark Covenant, a once formidable force masterminded by Viscount Bernard. At its peak, the Covenant boasted forty senior professionals above level alpha plus, supported by an army of over three thousand intermediate-level individuals, solidifying its dominance as the leading dark force in Green City.

However, following the mysterious disappearance of Viscount Bernard alongside the eight-armed snake demon, Roy, the Dark Covenant faced relentless attacks from the Green City army, teetering on the brink of collapse within a month. The once formidable dark giant now stood on the precipice, its future uncertain.

Amy's expression reflected the weight of their predicament, his visage somber under the warm glow of the magic lamps. The disheartening data painted a stark picture of their diminished strength.

A mere fifteen level alpha plus professionals and a hundred and four intermediate-level individuals remained, far below their initial expectations. Amy's voice carried a tinge of frustration as he addressed the gathering, his words echoing in the hall.

The Covenant's decline stood in stark contrast to its former glory, a testament to the devastating consequences of Viscount Bernard's disappearance. The dark operation, carefully cultivated over decades, was now on the verge of ruin.

Amy's mind raced, his thoughts consumed by the plight of the Covenant. The remaining forces were hunted relentlessly by Green City's troops, resembling a pack of rabid dogs unleashed upon them.

Amy's gaze, sharp as a honed blade, darted across the room, finally landing on the hulking figure of Gary, clad in gleaming silver armor. He sat stiffly, his face an unreadable mask. "Gary," Amy began, her voice low but firm, "whispers speak of half the Covenant bowing to Wales's banner. Is there truth to these rumors?"

Gary's eyes, usually calm pools of blue, flared with sudden anger. "Aye, Lord Amy," he growled, the words heavy with disgust. "Half of our own, swayed by the promises of that… that Heart-Eater!"

The name, Wales, hung in the air like a curse. A ripple of unease passed through the room, even amongst the hardened soldiers. Wales, the human-turned-demon worshipper, whispered legends of his cruelty. A man driven mad by a thirst for power, rumored to possess the blood of a demon and a taste for the most macabre rituals – devouring the hearts of his victims. His name was synonymous with fear, a chilling reminder of the darkness that lurked in the corners of Green City.

Amy felt a knot tighten in his stomach, a mix of fear and fury churning within him. He glanced at Grot, the stoic Northerner beside him, and saw a flicker of the same emotions mirrored in his eyes. This wasn't just about the Dark Covenant – it was about the future of Green City, the balance of power threatened by a monster who reveled in suffering.

"The wretched fiend!" Amy spat, his voice laced with venom. "He thinks he can buy loyalty with promises and fear? We will show him the true cost of his ambition!"

Wales' transformation was the result of a twisted desire for power. His heart, corrupted by evil, led him down a path of darkness, culminating in his unholy alliance with demonic forces. Amy understood the gravity of the situation: Wales was a formidable adversary, his malevolence unmatched.

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"Wales is not the only threat," Amy continued, his voice heavy with concern. "His demonic heart controls a significant portion of the West District. This is a formidable enemy we must confront."

The absence of Viscount Bernard, now a month-long enigma, compounded their predicament. The fear grew that the Heart-Eater, unable to resist his inner demons, had seized this opportunity to strike.

"The Viscount's disappearance has created a vacuum of power," Grot interjected, his tone grave. "Without his presence and the formidable combat prowess he commanded, the Dark Covenant is vulnerable to opportunists seeking to devour its remains."

The underground world, a realm of cutthroat competition, thrives on strength and wealth. In this ruthless environment, individuals readily sell their souls to gain power. The Dark Covenant, once protected by Viscount Bernard's formidable presence, now stood exposed, an enticing target for those seeking to expand their influence.

Amy, his thoughts in turmoil, sought further information. "Gary, what about the fallen warrior, Philip? Has he made any moves?"

Gary shook his head, a glimmer of relief in his eyes. "The fallen warriors seem uninterested in the power struggle and territorial disputes surrounding the Dark Covenant."

Green City's formidable dark forces found their home in the Western District, a densely populated area teeming with diverse and often conflicting factions. Of these factions, three stood above the rest, their influence casting a long shadow over the underworld.

The Dark Covenant, led by Viscount Bernard, had long held its ground as one of these giants. The other two forces were the Devil's Heart, under the sway of the Heart-Eater Wales, and the Sinking Fog, commanded by the fallen warrior, Philip. These three entities maintained a precarious balance of power, their fragile equilibrium constantly tested by the ambitions of smaller factions seeking to rise in their ranks.

Viscount Bernard's disappearance had weakened the Dark Covenant's influence significantly. The predatory move by the Devil's Heart was a direct result of this power vacuum. Amy and Grot found themselves facing immense pressure to defend their remaining forces.

Their initial projections estimated that one-third of their members would fall victim to the encroachment of rival forces. Amy feared that if they did not act swiftly, the majority of the remaining Dark Covenant members would be devoured by the Devil's Heart, reducing the Covenant to a mere shadow of its former self.

"We must find a way to reverse this dire situation," Grot stated resolutely. His voice carried a steely determination, a refusal to surrender to the forces that sought to dismantle their power.

"If that damned Heart-Eater refuses to retreat from our territory, we shall break his neck and send him to meet his demonic masters in the abyss!" Grot's words echoed with defiance, a testament to his unwavering spirit, unafraid to confront the formidable Heart-Eater.

"But we cannot act rashly," Amy cautioned. "The Heart-Eater is a formidable adversary, on par with Viscount Bernard. Years of secrecy have shielded his true power from us. Furthermore, the Devil's Heart boasts four top-tier professionals above level beta. With our current strength, a direct confrontation would be foolhardy."

The realities of the underground world dictated their strategy. Without absolute certainty of victory, impulsive actions would only hasten their downfall.

Amy's gaze lingered on Grot, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. A single name hung unspoken in the air.

"Unless, of course, Lady Betty were to intervene."

The Northern Royal Family, with its legacy of defeating the mighty level beta plus lava demon, represented their ultimate trump card. With the Valkyrie's support, they could tip the balance of power in their favor. Betty's reputation alone instilled confidence and inspired hope.

Grot shared Amy's apprehension. "If we were to seek Lady Betty's assistance, the Ancestor..."

The realization that this mission, entrusted to him by Morgen, might remain incomplete weighed heavily on Grot's mind.

Before Amy could respond, a knock echoed from outside the door, breaking the contemplative silence.

"Lord Amy, Lord Grot, a representative from Lord Wales of the Devil's Heart has arrived with a gift."

Amy and Grot exchanged uneasy glances. How had the Heart-Eater discovered their whereabouts?

"Let him in," Amy commanded, his voice firm despite the unease gnawing at his core.

The door creaked open, revealing a heavily armored guard carrying a black oak box.

"Open it," Amy ordered.

The guard complied, revealing a gruesome sight. A blood-soaked heart lay nestled within the box, pulsating feebly.

"The Dark Covenant is invited to meet me at the Drucker Tavern tomorrow night at nine o'clock. I eagerly await your presence. Viscount Bernard's absence has made my life rather dull. Punctuality is a virtue I hold dear. Failure to honor this invitation will result in the annihilation of the Dark Covenant. Your pitiful rebellion will be crushed, and your remains scattered to the winds."

The heart's voice echoed through the room, its chilling tone sending shivers down their spines. As the final syllable faded, the heart ceased its feeble beating, and the blood upon its surface darkened to an ominous black, imbued with the malevolence of the abyss.

A deathly silence descended upon the room, a palpable tension hanging in the air. Amy and Grot's eyes burned with righteous fury.

"That damned Heart-Eater!"