Dark Temple

When the ancient, lengthy incantation began, even the shadows seemed to tremble.

However, Shadow had no time to consider why Batica was chanting. As soon as the chant ended, the small magic formation before Batica's palm had grown larger and larger along with her incantation.

The battle formation resembled a bright crimson teardrop in the night sky the moment Batica's chant stopped.

That crimson was more like a red sickle, suddenly sweeping across the empty area before Mirai where the imagined Shadow stood.

It was not merely crimson.

Mirai could clearly sense the fluctuations of elemental power within it—fluctuations belonging to the fire element, at a concentration beyond anything he had imagined.

It was a crimson color formed from an extremely high concentration of fire-elemental power.

Whoosh—

When the crimson wiped away the phantom Shadow, Mirai finally understood how the phantom Shadow had sent Owen and the other three flying.

A black cloak appeared, almost blending into the night beyond the imagined figure.

The cloak was the phantom Shadow's defensive measure. When the strange crimson streak swept past the phantom Shadow, the cloak stood in front of him.

Hiss—

It was like cloth being torn apart in that area, yet it allowed the shadowy figure to avoid the crimson attack head-on.

The crimson not only tore through the cloak, but ignited it as well—far more terrifyingly.

The shadowy figure had no choice but to abandon the cloak immediately. In the next moment, it vanished into the night with the faint night breeze.

The phantom Shadow was not a phantom Shadow. Though the darkness made the man difficult to see clearly, "Silver Eye" had seen him before.

He was a white-haired man of at least fifty. Unlike some traditionally elderly men on the continent, his face was clean-shaven.

Mirai knew that