Hearing those words, Rowan's body shuddered. His heart was gripped by a terrifying foreboding feeling.
No, no, no, this can't be!
He thought to himself as his eyes slowly started to tear up.
How could this happen?!
Beside him, his wife and children were incessantly sobbing. Before Rowan could even direct his attention toward them, the Magi had already begun their battle.
Kaspar York dashed toward the crooked cultist, his speed and strength belying his old age.
The elderly Magus's legs were wrapped in green, magical energy as he arrived before the cultist within a few seconds.
BAM!
The proud Magus of the Ignisra Kingdom conjured a spear and slammed it down vertically on the crooked Magus's head.
However, the cultist was not one to be trifled with.
Brandishing his poison-coated daggers, he brought his arms forward and, with slight effort, defended against the vicious attack.
"You're not too bad, old Magus." The cultist snickered, his murky eyes flashing with malevolence.
