The instant the dark-red spear appeared, it was like a bucket of cold water poured into a pot of hot oil. The atmosphere turned tense at once.
Cosmi Odora backed away in alarm and cried out sharply:
"What are you trying to do? This is where my grandfather sleeps!"
Cyril said nothing. He simply pointed the spear at him.
A razor-sharp, bone-chilling presence washed over him, as though it could pierce even the void. The words caught in Cosmi's throat. He swallowed again and again, forcing down the saliva his nerves had made him produce, while his calves trembled uncontrollably.
"Enough! That's enough!"
"I'll personally investigate what happened."
Mistral stood between them, frowning deeply. He shielded Cosmi behind him and eyed the dark-red spear that had formed in Cyril's hand with apprehension.
The Shaman King's instincts warned him that even though he was a Demigod whose very level of existence had undergone a transformation, that spear could still grievously wound him.
Of course, that was only if he took the spear head-on.
As a Shaman King, he had dozens of ways to easily evade such a simple attack.
But Cosmi behind him couldn't. He couldn't let Lord Nibis's grandson die before his eyes. Yet Cyril was a key figure in the Progenitor's oracle, and he couldn't simply attack him with brute force, either.
With no other choice, he stood between them and tried to mediate.
Cyril didn't respond. He only pushed the spear forward, using his Spirituality to lock onto Cosmi behind Mistral.
The next second, a somewhat illusory deep-red full moon appeared in midair. Crimson moonlight fell like a thin, invisible veil,
filtering out the sunlight and plunging the surroundings into a full moon that nurtured Spirituality and heightened intuition.
At the same time, the dark-red spear slipped from