Riddle was on the verge of collapse.
Was Ian any better?
In the end, he actually felt the tiniest bit of resonance with the Dark Lord—what kind of wizarding joke was this?! The era he had fallen into was actually King Arthur's era, the one he had just seen in the time tunnel!? Hadn't they already "crossed" through it?! Weren't they supposed to be heading to a later era?!
Why had they still fallen into this era?!
Most importantly... Miss Morgan... Since when had Destiny become so humorous... Even after the light on the little girl Morgan's forehead had faded, Ian's hand still trembled faintly.
It was an instinctive reflex.
For the first time, he understood what it felt like for his fingers to go weak.
"Your forehead was dirty. I was helping you wipe it." Ian's index finger lightly brushed over Miss Morgan's skin. He truly was no expert at improvising excuses in a crisis.
While trying his best to look helpful, the Young Wizard also gave himself a mental pep talk—Morgan was a Legend, but wasn't he a Legend too?
Did a Legend need to fear another Legend?
Uh... perhaps he could still be afraid, but he did not necessarily have to be quite so afraid. They were beings of the same rank, and he had the Paradox Authority. No matter how formidable a Legend was, he could certainly contend with her.
With that thought—
Ian's spirits rose again. He tried his best not to think about how the Morgan he had to face was a dead Morgan, the Morgan within the Misty Illusion who did not compete in magic, but only in cognition.
"Teacher, your heart is in turmoil right now. Why?" Little Morgan looked up at Ian with black gem-like eyes, her voice carrying a trace