On the top floor of a magic tower in Allyn.
Rogerio released a long sigh, "Holm Crown prize… What a young man… The youngest winner ever…"
As he was saying, Rogerio’s hand gently touched his neck, as if there was an imaginary amulet hanging there. He had been striving for Immortal Throne award for many years, but it turned out that his talent was more in magic than in arcana.
"On the shoulder of giants… shoulder of giants…" Adol, the undead, was right now sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in his hand, "Maybe this was even out of Professor’s great expectation, and maybe he was still working on synthesizing life ingredients, hoping that he could win both Holm Crown prize and Immortal Throne award. Ha, will you guys recognize his findings?"
Looking from behind, no one could tell that Adol was actually not alive.
