Watching Kash's hurried figure vanish into the night sky, Ang merely shook his head slightly, a trace of disdain appearing in his eyes.
That timid, pressure-crushed appearance was especially dull in his eyes.
Though Kash was the president of the Mage Association, he was essentially nothing more than a pawn manipulated by others.
In that brief exchange just now, his reactions and bearing had fallen far short of expectations. He was like a flower raised in a greenhouse—beautiful on the outside, yet unable to withstand the wind and rain.
"Looks like he hasn't spent much time on the God-Demon Battlefield," Ang murmured, his tone calm and cold.
In truth, he had not guessed wrong.
Most of the Empire's mages did not set foot on the front lines themselves. They preferred to remain in the rear, supplying Enchanted Weapons, scrolls, and armor, using that to prove they were contributing to the war as well.
It was just that warriors had to pay for those magical items out of their own pockets, which made it all seem rather mercenary.
As for mages who truly fought amid blood and fire, there were very few. After all, the battlefield was not friendly to mages.
Though mages could ride Magic Brooms and fly with the wind, sharpshooters were their natural enemies.
The moment a bowstring rang out and arrows tore through the air, there was almost no room left for them to dodge.
Ever since Kash had advanced to Archmage, he had been handling logistics and support on the God-Demon Battlefield.
He had never truly stepped onto the very front line. Naturally, his temperament and resolve could not be compared to those of battle-hardened experts.
Ang sighed softly and was about to turn away when he suddenly sensed a faint tremor in the air.
At