Continuing northward, the magic tower began to loom into view.
From a distance, it seemed devoid of any mystical aura, yet Owen could sense the ancient mana contained within, even from afar.
The guards lining the path underwent a change beyond this point.
Previously, soldiers in military attire had manned the route, but from here to the magic tower, the guards were dressed as rangers and assassins, with a priest responsible for every short stretch.
Between the two sections of guards, there was a small gap.
Owen halted at the sight of this mere three-meter-long gap devoid of guards.
At this moment, Goden clapped Laine on the shoulder, and the two stopped, seemingly discussing something about Mithril.
Owen chuckled to himself, understanding Goden's intentions.
One after another, the others approached this three-meter stretch.
