Coyle and Rojas exchanged a glance.
Under Coyle's shocked gaze, Rojas very obviously took a step back.
Coyle looked around... there really were people itching to step forward, but he'd have to be crazy to let them take the lead.
He simply didn't want to bear full responsibility, not to throw his life away.
The world changed quickly. How long had it been? Coyle had gone from an Archmage brimming with ambition to someone who only cared about saving his own life—whoever the fuck stood in front was fine by him.
But what could he do?
Coyle had never missed Aislin as much as he did now.
He could even understand why Oliva would rather be treated like trash just to stand behind Aislin!
Having someone charge ahead who could fly into a rage at anyone, curse them out without a second thought, and never consider the consequences made life much easier for everyone else.
Yet no matter how much they envied that, they could not pull off that kind of natural bastardry.
A falsehood people could see through could only be used when it was useful... like right now. No matter how much Coyle grumbled inside, he could only stand there with a smile, listening to the arrogant Undead before him, who rode a gigantic beast.
While pondering the beast's name—though it looked much like the cattle he had seen at Sia Tower, the difference in size was simply too great for him to be sure—Coyle listened to this Undead from another world, clad in bizarre metal armor, speak.
"Whatever attitude you came here with, the only one who can receive you is Russell.
"That shortest, plainest Mage Tower. Go around from the other side!
"With your abilities, you can't take the middle route.
"Tsk... not even one Ninth-Circle