"Fine, a dog raised by someone else has the nerve to betray its master," said the Crown Prince's subordinate with a face full of mirth. "What a well-trained dog indeed."
The Second Prince's subordinate had a dark expression, but he still pointed out the issue. "What's going on, there's nothing in the direction the Half-Elf's gun is pointing at! And how is that urn floating in midair by itself!"
"The retracing has been interfered with, there are strange wavelengths," answered the mage in red robes.
Fischer's hairs stood on end—just to say such a short sentence, the red-robed mage had used seven different intonations, three speeds of speech, and four accents from two women and two men.
Something terrifying and magnificent had arrived.
"As you can see, I am but an insignificant creature," the red-robed mage said with a canticle-like tone on the side, then knelt down.
His mind was already lost.
