Flames descended from the sky, swallowing up the brilliant stars, and churning beneath the surface of the water, like lava gushing out. Stormbell could feel the heat wave coming to his face in a trance, but the air was still cool, and the ripples on the water surface gradually dispersed unhurriedly following the original rhythm, just like Felicity's light and lively voice, without a trace of change:

"We've envisioned a lot of possibilities, we've tried a lot, and this is just one of them. If you already have a better idea...... Or if our concerns have in fact been resolved, that's fine, but if you don't ......"

Sage...... It's a bit verbose.

Stobel thought silently, but his rapid heartbeat gradually calmed down in the chatter.

Now he was willing to believe the unbelievable "story" that Ed had told him. He'd heard of Ankelan and the ancient dragon, and he knew what terrifying ways Scott could manipulate fire. If the god he worships, or has to serve, is a fiery dragon who has been deceived and betrayed, and is full of anger, many questions will be answered...... But at the moment, he was thinking more about Tumus.

Toomus is not a fool, otherwise he would not have become the lord of the East Tower. Even if he can get great benefits, he won't do it if he doesn't have a certain certainty. So...... What was he asking for? What was he leaning on? Was it really just the circle that Harold had left behind?

Héctor Caro, the mage sent by Tumus to deal with Black Sails, is likely a follower of Nesses - is that faith true or not, does Tumus know?

In the Archmage's Tower, Carlo is not the only one who believes in Nesses. Mages and priests are always sarcastic to each other, but no one ever says that mages can't believe in gods, after all, their power also comes from gods...... Well, what about Tumus?—— no, he is unlikely to have any devout faith, he believes only in power and power.

"I don't know what problem you're facing right now, so I can't give you a definite answer......"

Felicity's voice rang in his ears, like the sound of water, and did not interfere with his thoughts. And this was the second time, even if he didn't listen very attentively......

“...... Nothing is absolute......"

Stobel suddenly raised his head, and a layer of cold sweat instantly broke out on his back.

He subconsciously had all sorts of suspicions about Toombs - no one would trust a guy who was always calculating himself, especially when he had repeatedly backed down...... But is it really Tumus who is manipulating all this?

And, the most important thing at the moment is to find the answer, or to solve the crisis?

Whatever the manipulator's intentions, Stobel didn't think it would be a good thing for the Archmage Tower. Harold's ideas were so arrogant that even he knew that the circle he had left behind was a desperate fight in desperation...... And they're not at the end of their rope at all.

He looked up, and in the flames, he remembered the pattern that Ed had drawn quickly, the scribbled almost illegible and shocking word "altar."

The center of the Archmage's Tower is not an altar...... But is it possible that it could be used as an altar?

"Adult ......"

A low voice came from behind him. The mage who had been silent until now was calm, but a lightning-like light began to pass under the flames...... It looked more like a crack in the sky.

Stobel took a deep breath - he had to stop this.

.

When the flames were low enough to touch the barrier outside the library, it looked more like fog, with the color of blood and fire, permeating the barrier, and the snake wriggled like a snake, licking the faint blue light above the barrier, leaving a trail of hideous blood.

The barrier hadn't broken, and could even repair itself, but it was apparently not as fast as the blood stains were spreading.

Fernand silently counted the time. Even if this defense is destroyed, the circle they just planted will be able to hold up the other, although it is unknown how long it will last...... The strange thing is that once they are brave enough to start casting spells, they are even more comfortable than usual.

"Your Excellency!"

Someone squeezed out of the crowd, hurried up behind him, and whispered to him, "Chalcet is back." ”

Fernan immediately turned around: "...... Alive?!"

The moment he saw the other party's bloodless face, he knew the answer, but he could only listen in silence.

"The skin was dry and wrinkled, as if it had been drained of blood...... As soon as I came back, I lost my breath......" The lower and lower voice disappeared into a choked gasp.

Fernan gritted his teeth and swallowed a growl.

When they found out that teleportation was still usable, someone teleported them away without regard - but in fact, teleportation could not find a target outside of the Archmage's Tower. He hesitated for a moment before sending someone to teleport to the East Tower and the Supreme Tower to see if there was a glimmer of life...... See if the blood mist that permeates the barrier isn't deadly.

The person who teleported to the Tower of the Supreme did not return, and the person who teleported to the East Tower died...... The answer is obvious.

They have nowhere to go.

He had divided the not-so-useless mages into several groups, each looking for a way out of the predicament, as calm as if the calamity that had fallen from the sky was just some kind of test. Most people seem to believe...... Or pretended to believe, at least, that the people crowded inside and outside the library were not confused in fear, and that he was quite satisfied.

It's just that...... Will he really be able to let them escape?

“...... Your Excellency!" the mage tugged at his sleeve and pointed out of the barrier.

A figure cut through the blood mist and pounced on the barrier, flapping desperately.

It was a young man, still dressed in the brown robe of a trainee mage, with a long face that was pale with fright, but seemed unscathed—at least, the hands that were beating against the barrier were strong.

Fernan subconsciously wanted to let him in. It wasn't hard to cut a little above the barrier for the time being, but after taking a few steps, he stopped

"The skin is dry and wrinkled, as if it has been drained of blood......"

If the mages he carefully selected all ended up like that in a short period of time, how could a trainee mage who was not much different from an ordinary person be safe and sound?...... Isn't it the blood mist out there that is the problem? or ...... Is there a problem with this person?

Sensing his hesitation, the trainee mages outside the barrier gradually gave up slapping—but not out of desperation.

He straightened up, a strange smile on his long pale face. His lips slowly opened and closed, over and over again.

Fernand couldn't lip it, but after repeating it again and again, he understood.

"Rejoice......

.