He had become a regular at the judgment seat, his weary, weathered face now marked with the unusual roughness of stubble, which added a touch of worldly hardship to his normally gentle and handsome features.
As an eighth-order Great Priest, he was like walking on thin ice.
"This seventh-order Shadow World is basically hopeless, not to mention one percent, even point one percent is out of reach."
"Judging from the live images opened by Loren's student last time, it was a complete farce."
Almost no natural light entered through the courtroom windows, and the murmuring voices from the jury seats echoed around as if whispers of ghosts lingered by your ear.
"Today might be the last hearing, Loren, are you prepared?"
The Judgment Chief's gavel struck, and the probing voices came to an abrupt halt, enveloping every corner in deathly silence.
