A snow-white blade flash lit up the entire hall.
Like lightning in the night, it tore through the fog in the Old Lich's mind.
Yes, so what if it was bait? Whether he took the bait or not, these young wizards were right before him. If he kept hesitating now, these little baitfish would slip off the hook.
The blade flash drew ever closer amid the Old Lich's thoughts, aimed straight at the Black Wall behind him.
The Old Lich slowly turned his neck, seeming to want one last look at that flash of steel.
"Look over here!"
The brawny Hunting Team Captain let out a thunderous roar. Every muscle on his body swelled another notch as his iron-black fist smashed through layers of air with his shout, hurtling heavily toward Sir Ulrich's head.
The murky air mingled with the heavy force of his fist, becoming extraordinarily viscous. Everywhere the fist wind reached seemed to turn into a pool of glue, slowing Sir Ulrich's attempt to turn his head.
Only for an instant.
And precisely in that instant.
The blade flash swept past the Old Lich's ear and cleaved into the Black Wall.
A halo rippled across the wall, leaving it completely unharmed—not even a flake of plaster fell away. Yet the three-legged, two-handled bronze cauldron beneath it gave an enraged hum.
Because the spoils that the bronze cauldron had been brewing for so long—the skulls hanging on the wall—had shattered.
Everyone in the hall heard the sound of porcelain breaking. It was a sound that sent everyone into a panic. If one stood outside the Mage Tower, one could even see certain starlights deep in the Starry Sky grow brighter for an instant.
The hundreds of wizard skulls hanging from the Black Wall shattered all at once beneath that