“TSK TSK, the newcomers these days are really scary...”
At the East Gate of the city, Bernard rubbed his fat chin and widened his eyes. Apparently, the scene just now had shocked him.
“This speed is not something a level-9 elf should have, right? A Royal? That’s not right. Aren’t royal descendants not allowed to come in this time? Moreover... this pupil shape is quite rare. It feels a little familiar...”
The stout and plump Bernard frowned. Just as he was about to search the memory in the depths of his brain to see if there was any information regarding this pupil shape, a chill suddenly struck him from behind.
“An ancient bloodline, has it already caused people to forget to such an extent? To actually not be able to recognize a sorcerer of your level in the first instance?”
