In the early dawn of Kexlote, the stars had not yet fully faded away.
The entire city felt pure and clean, lying on the border with no magic barrier raised, yet there wasn't even a hint of wind.
The sky was high and the clouds sparse, yet sadly there were no geese flying south overhead.
The suppression of divine power was too strong here. Although the air was rich with elements, Hill still felt extremely uncomfortable.
It was like being in a place with the highest humidity, where there was always an urge to open one's mouth to breathe. Even Cohen did not wish to fly in this divinely suffused area.
Hill's shop could be considered a small Magic Tower. Yet one could still feel that omnipresent pressure.
Probably only a medium-sized Magic Tower could withstand it. William probably built Magic Towers everywhere for this reason.
The mages who followed him to Kexlote could only live comfortably within the Magic Towers.
