While William was recuperating from his injuries, the battle at Ravenlord Citadel had come to a complete halt. While the students and the young knights were busy trying to understand what had just transpired, the red-robed man, who was watching this scene, frowned.
The Pseudo-Eleventh-Circle Spell that they executed should have put everyone above the age of twenty into deep sleep. Their plan was to kill all the important and strong people in the Southern Continent, while they were in this helpless state.
However, the spell that they cast using millions of souls didn't work the way they had envisioned it to.
"That golden light," the red-robed man muttered. "Just where did that golden light come from?"
