A feast of frenzy

The White Saint, Katarina Pelle, truly lived up to her reputation as someone who had survived the Pale Disaster. After just one encounter with Luther, she immediately sensed the danger. Without a moment's hesitation, she fled through a mirror.

Her reaction was so fast that even Luther froze for a moment.

Seriously? You're the White Saint, a great Demoness with a long life and vast experience. Faced with a junior like me, a Sequence 4

at that, you retreated instantly without even testing me?

"Ah..."

Viscount Stratford was even more shocked than Luther. His hopes of survival had been shattered one after another, leaving him utterly shaken, his expression twisted with despair.

As though making one final struggle, Viscount Stratford desperately reached into his pocket.

But before he could pull out whatever was inside, his body abruptly stopped moving. He raised his head and stared blankly at Luther, golden light flickering in the depths of his eyes.

"Come here."

Luther spoke calmly, his eyes seeming to flow with molten gold. His words echoed deep into the viscount's consciousness.

Viscount Stratford obediently complied, moving toward him one step at a time.

Whoosh!

At the same time, Luther opened his palm toward him, and an icy wind howled.

He intended to kill Viscount Stratford and take his soul above the Tide to interrogate him about the truth. That sea could block outside interference, preventing anyone from silencing the viscount's soul!

Yet as the viscount drew closer, a strange expression appeared on Luther's face.

Something's wrong.

There seems to be something there.

Luther could not describe what he felt. It was as though some obscure sense had detected an invisible connection. Was it a voice calling to him? An almost imperceptible image? Or a response from his spirituality?

He did not know. He