"We're done for! Sir Staal and Mr. Kagris are still inside!" Haruze remembered, ignoring the scrapes on his face and arms as he scrambled up and charged toward the count's residence. But Mikaya stuck out her foot, tripping him and sending him sprawling face-first onto the ground.
"What are you doing!?" Haruze glared angrily at Mikaya's prank.
"Their target is you. Do you really want to go back?"
"They are?"
"There." Mikaya jerked her chin toward the count's residence, where flames soared into the sky. Haruze turned around and saw several nobles dressed as guests rushing out through the thick smoke. Yet there was not the slightest hint of panic on their faces. Instead, they looked eerily calm, almost cold.
More importantly, each of them had a mysterious tattoo on one cheek, and their eyes shone with a strange silver color in the darkness.
When Haruze saw those cold, inhuman eyes, he was so frightened that he almost cried out. He instinctively reached for his sword, only to grasp empty air. Then he remembered that he had left his weapon in the room.
Haruze cursed inwardly, but the few people were already charging toward them. He hurriedly turned around and desperately signaled for Mikaya to leave first.
Mikaya, however, remained unmoved. The few people drew close, but then stopped and scanned Haruze from head to toe.
"How strange. Where did he go? I clearly saw him come this way."
Another man remained silent. He raised his hand, and a sheet of silver ripples swept toward them. Frowning, he said, "The aura of Dark Magic is so strong. Could the witches have rescued him?"
"Can we track them by following the direction of the reverse mana flow?"
"Do you want to go fight the witches in Brunson? Come on, let's go