Atop Suncrest Mountain, there it stood—the place where the "True Plaque" hung. The structure at the base of the mountain was merely an entrance. Magnus waited there for Aria and Caleb to arrive.
"Caleb, huh…"
Renowned as the Sword That Splits Skulls, his precision was unmatched. In a single strike, he could cleave through a person's crown and split their philtrum. Such skill required immense speed, strength, and accuracy—a feat achievable only by a true master.
Moreover, he was an elite warrior, one of those who had consumed rare elixirs and ascended to supreme heights under the tutelage of this prestigious sect. How many such elites had emerged from this righteous faction? At least two hundred, if not more. But to claim that such prowess was achieved single-handedly? That would be absurd.
