Both Sides Engage the Enemy

"Not welcome?"

"That's not for you to decide."

Wrapped in an ornate silk wizard's robe and holding a fir wand, Istvan, Hungary's Royal Mage, let out a cold laugh. "The Imperial Emperor and King Saint Stephen invited me here. Since when was it your place to decide whether I'm welcome?"

Istvan looked at the female spellcaster standing atop the harbor tower, a trace of mockery passing over his face.

Sure enough, the Empire's extraordinary system relied entirely on that woman Anna to hold it up. Without her, they could only send some minor figure to make up the numbers.

Judging by the abundance of her spiritual power, she should have reached the ranks of an advanced spellcaster. But compared to a master like Anna, whose accumulation ran unimaginably deep and who already had one foot in the legendary realm, the gap was no smaller than that between an apprentice and an advanced spellcaster.

"Heh, a young advanced spellcaster who thinks fate favors her. In truth, you don't understand that a mere rank means nothing."

Istvan studied his opponent carefully, his expression holding both contempt and jealousy.

The face beneath his black robes was already quite aged, covered in deep wrinkles. By appearance alone, he already had one foot in the grave. A spellcaster like this was either nearing the end of his lifespan and unable to maintain his youth, or had only become a high-level extraordinary being in old age.

Either way, it was difficult for him to remain calm when facing a young high-level wizard like Eve, whose future was so promising.

Eve gathered her courage and shouted, "Don't get cocky! President Anna has already invited Master Lothar from the association. He'll arrive in Constantinople soon, and you should know how terrifying his record is."

"Lothar? Which Lothar?"

Istvan's