Tops looked across at his opponent, his eyebrows furrowing.
The other was very young and according to the intelligence, he should be a newly promoted Fifth Level of the Federation.
Such a prodigy, considered in light of a blood sacrifice or the interests of the Empire, should be removed as early as possible.
What bothered him even more was, what kind of gaze was that from his opponent?
'Pitying me? Showing mercy on me? Or trying to goad me into anger?'
Tops' expression darkened, and behind him, a black silhouette emerged.
It was a figure, and as soon as it appeared, everyone on site felt a chill spreading from their hearts.
It was its appearance that had just directly deterred the Federation delegates, losing the last chance to rescue Schumacher.
"Fifth Level… No, perhaps a Sixth Level Spiritual Body! This feeling..."
Lawrence murmured, trembling slightly.
Sixth Level of Myth!
