At the edge of the oak grove, the sound of Zoogs beating their chests rang out once more.
Several Zoog elders propped themselves upright and eagerly described everything the young Zoogs had observed to the banshee, from discovering the appearance of unfamiliar wizards, to the two unfamiliar wizards setting up a Magic Circle, to white mist surging within the formation and a flock of Shadhavar Birds descending. Amid the jumble of details, their chest-beating sounded fragmented yet rhythmic.
Of course, in the course of their account, these timid yet malicious creatures took great pleasure in shifting the blame onto others.
For instance, the Shadhavar Birds had been unruly, especially the Shadhavar leader that had already been torn apart by the Three-headed Black Flood Dragon. It had looked down on Zoogs entirely, ignored the elders' warnings, and insisted on using its pitch-black claws to seize the wizards' Magic Circle.
Then there were the two unfamiliar wizards, who were extremely dangerous—so dangerous that even a dingy gray pet they kept had bitten to death the Zoogs' most cautious and bravest accidental warrior. That warrior had secretly crept to within less than a hundred meters of the Magic Circle, yet in the end, he had failed to escape Wusa's deadly grasp.
Nikita patiently listened to the old Zoogs beating their chests, picking out useful information from their muddled accounts.
Until she heard the word "Wusa," and her brows rose in surprise.
"Wusa?"
The banshee interrupted a Zoog that was elaborately beating its chest, a hint of confusion in her eyes. "You mean those two wizards came from Wusa City? How do you know that? If I remember correctly, those two wizards never directly communicated with you from beginning to end."
Her answer came in the form of even denser, more urgent chest-beating—not only