Dragonblood Castle was guarded very strictly. Multiple patrol squads roved about, the weakest of the guards at the ninth rank. Saints could be seen everywhere.
But these guards weren’t able to detect the arrival of Gislason and the other three at all.
Within the rear courtyard of Dragonblood Castle. A quiet field.
“Rustle…” The leaves of the trees swayed in the wind. Beneath a thick, gnarled tree, a gray-robed Olivier was currently seated quietly in the meditative position, his eyes focused ahead of himself. Next to his body hovered an energy sword which constantly flashed about, displaying one type of attack after another.
Two swirls of black and white energy could be vaguely seen.
Suddenly…
Olivier raised his head, discovering that four people were standing shoulder to shoulder nearby.
“Lord Patriarch.” Olivier was shocked. He hurriedly rose to his feet.
