Korklau's appearance was nothing like his spells—evil and bizarre. Instead, he possessed a sickly, breathtaking beauty.
It was a bloodless pallor, the kind born of never seeing daylight for years, as though he had been meticulously polished from the finest white bone china.
His pupils and hair were both dark green, emitting a faint, ghostly glow like seaweed growing at the bottom of an endlessly silent deep sea, yearning to devour flesh and blood.
Korklau stood beneath the gray, dark sky. His dark green robe spread behind him like the night itself, fluttering and snapping despite the absence of wind.
His entire body seemed like a massive source of radiation, exuding an evil, cold, and domineering aura in all directions—the pressure of a superior predator.
At this moment, above the ruins of Isidore's Fairy Ancient City, at least dozens of wizards surrounded the four grayish-white stone pillars.
They were all outstanding talents from various places, their eyes gleaming with intelligence and ambition. Yet before Korklau's suffocating force field, the presence of every single one of them was suppressed by him alone.
It felt as though they were standing at the foot of a towering, perilous mountain, looking up at an icy summit that could never be climbed, making them feel insignificant from the depths of their souls.
Everyone stared at Korklau with ugly expressions, their faces filled with a complicated mix of jealousy, fear, and anger.
At this point, more than twenty of the grayish-white stone pillars representing the thirty-two Genius Seats within the Fairy Ancient City had already been lit. Every pillar of light represented a ticket to higher truths.
Some of the occupants of those pillars had already been replaced once or even several times. The air still carried the scorched smell of elements and a faint scent