The White Tower Spirit is indeed the arcane consciousness, the treasure of the [Arcanists].
At this moment, the thing they cherish as much as their lives is like a candle flickering in the wind, its light fading incessantly.
Finally, a sound as crisp as shattered glass came.
The light ball was completely dim and exploded into pieces under the sorrowful and despairing eyes of Irin and others.
Countless fragments splashed out, exploding in mid-air, turning into firefly-like points of light. As if attracted by something, they disappeared into the void in a certain direction.
The mysterious aura that once covered the entire White Tower was finally extinguished.
"Arcane...what exactly have you done?"
Incredulity filled Irin's eyes.
In that indescribable, irresistible assault, darkness came with death, as unyielding as a landslide, the Mechanic Master of the sixth seat was the first to fall. Then came the demise of the White Tower Spirit!
