"Thunderstorm" apparently was not the kind of professional who carried valuables around at all times. Or rather, at least when relaxing in his own residence, he did not like Punk, who treated seven or eight storage rings as parts of his body and never took them off. Thus, when Diteben hurriedly escaped the enemy's sudden attack with his life, he truly had nothing left on him besides a few tattered pieces of clothing.
The poor Legendary Warlock had not only lost what little savings he possessed, but also the magic crystal card given to him by the "Chairman." In fact, even the clean clothes Diteben was wearing now had been stripped by Keishanoa from a minister in the imperial palace. His robe, which had at least been sewn from Legendary material, could no longer be worn due to the erosion of Morningstar laws.
Thus, if the ill-fittingly dressed Mr. "Thunderstorm" wanted to urgently contact the "Chairman," he had no choice but to seek the opinion of the "Plague Box."
"Well, have you received a response? Come to think of it, nearly thirty thousand years have passed since His Excellency the Chairman convened the last meeting. Yet our retaliatory operation has made no substantive progress so far, while the Pantheon has already struck first. I hope all of this is within His Excellency the Blazing Sun Throne's control."
Clenching his limp hand tightly, Diteben could not feel the slightest bit of power in his soul. He was both anxious and helpless.
He was an ambitious Warlock professional; otherwise, he would not have joined The Executors without hesitation in the first place. But now, the gains brought to him by this turbulent new era were not the vast wealth he had initially imagined, but severe injuries that had left him on the