It really was getting windy.
But the wind was not blowing in from outside the wizard tower.
It was blowing from behind Dorkas, from atop the throne.
At first, it was only a breeze, but it quickly grew into an exceptionally clamorous gale.
The wind spun, accelerated, and raged.
Even its temperature kept rising—from a cool breeze to a hot wind, until it became so scorching that even Dorkas felt the heat.
He was a fifth-rank demon lord.
If even he felt hot, then for other demons—even third-rank Greater Demons—it might be a lethal attack.
Dorkas turned around in disbelief toward the source of the gale.
There, a powerful Balor lord sat upon the throne.
The eye of the storm came from there.
This scorching gale was not released intentionally. It was the wind stirred up by his aura constantly colliding with the surrounding powers of law.
As Dorkas watched Charles, an unbelievable thought gradually rose in his heart.
"Authority!"
"So much authority!"
"His power is going to rise because of these authorities!"
"You foolish Abyss, what exactly are you doing? Why are you making him stronger?"
"Wouldn't it be better to give this power to me?!"
But no matter what Dorkas thought at that moment,
the outcome would not change.
Charles's aura surged like crashing tides, endlessly washing over, rebounding, and striking outward.
He had originally been only a fifth-rank demon lord, and his true strength had not improved much recently.
Yet the power brought by authority kept increasing.
This was power he could obtain without any effort, and it would not affect his cultivation of wizard power in the slightest.
It had come too easily—so easily that it could make him addicted.
His power kept battering against the threshold of the sixth rank.
When he had just defeated