"How are they all dead?" A shocked expression was on his face, his voice cracked from disbelief.
"No! No! No! Is there an army now?" He paced, trying to think about what really happened.
Just as Ossa had presumed, the warriors all had a small mana signature connected to their life force. Whenever a warrior dies, the rune sheet connected to that dot of mana burns as the mana returns back into the ruin, its transfer short-circuiting the rune sheet and causing it to burn.
Out of the one hundred and thirty-one runesheets, he hangs on the golden-colored wall of the war room, only nine were left, all nine belonging to the mages he had sent to join the raid.
Still musing, he unconsciously bumped into another white-robed mage.
The male mage, unlike the principal, looked to be in his late twenties despite being as old as the principal. He, unlike the principal, wanted to keep his youth; the principal keeping his old looks as it suited his status.
