Searching for a Way Out

"Whoosh—"

With a soft sound, as if a tailor had snipped off an extra thread, Dago's figure vanished from the empty dueling arena, cleanly and without hesitation.

Only starlight remained scattered across the ground, still falling in cold silence, as though the one who had stood there moments ago had been nothing more than a phantom erased by the night.

Elsewhere, within a spatial fissure—an independent pocket space forcibly carved out by a Miracle Arcane Artifact—the air was as stifling as an old sealed well.

Two groups faced each other like fighting cocks.

On the left stood a group dressed in splendor. Their standardized silver-white robes gleamed in the darkness, embroidered with intricate blue lightning patterns that seemed to proclaim their noble origins—the elites of Thunder Tower.

Yet that nobility now looked somewhat bedraggled. Like plucked phoenixes, they might have held the numerical advantage, but their momentum was clearly lacking.

On the right stood only two people.

They hid themselves entirely within broad black robes, like two masses of indissoluble ink, or ghosts crawling up from hell. Their faces could not be seen; only the suffocatingly cold aura emanating from beneath their robes could be felt.

Those were the powerful fluctuations of Third-Ring Wizards, like two great mountains pressing heavily upon the hearts of everyone from the Thunder Council.

If not for the long-haired middle-aged wizard at the front—also a Third-Ring Wizard—holding on with all his might, these pampered wizards would likely have long since fallen to their knees and begged for mercy.

"Don't worry. You won't be in any danger for the time being..."

One of the black-robed figures spoke. His voice was low and hoarse, like two rusted iron sheets scraping together, making everyone's teeth ache. "If Thunder Tower's Miracle Wizard is willing to hand over the World