Mysterious Ancient Spirit

The Mysterious Ancient Spirits

This man didn't seem to harbor any ill intent?

At the very least, he looked far more approachable than the other heinous criminals.

"You're using some kind of magical means of perception to replace your eyes?" Ian could sense an exceptionally subtle, intricate fluctuation of mental power radiating from the blind man. Like invisible sonar, it mapped out the contours of the surroundings and simulated a unique kind of "vision."

"Yes."

The man admitted it plainly. Being able to use magic inside the prison meant he had some skill, after all. This prison also suppressed magical power.

It was like how Devil Fruit users in One Piece were restrained with the Marines' Seastone shackles. Wizards had their own version of Seastone too. At least, such materials were abundant on this land in Africa. They had been mined and laid into the floors of the cells holding these criminals.

To Ian—

This suppression naturally had no effect on him. But for most ordinary wizards, it left them utterly powerless. Anyone who could still use a bit of magic under such conditions was clearly no ordinary person.

Ian became interested in the blind man.

"What's going on?"

Rather than immediately responding to the man's words, Ian asked a question of his own. His instincts told him that a prisoner confined this deep in the prison was anything but simple. The man lacked the vicious aura of a hardened criminal. Instead, he possessed the calmness of someone tempered by years and wisdom, as well as something deeply hidden away...

A sense of power, like a dormant volcano. The blind man "looked" at Ian, and the corners of his mouth seemed to lift in an almost imperceptible curve. It was as though he were smiling, or perhaps mocking himself.

"The