Wendy gently took Greg's hand and led him aside. They skirted a pile of collapsed timber and several crumbling walls, coming to a relatively secluded corner.
Some discarded wooden crates and battered clay jars lay piled there, with a slanted tarp overhead forming a small, partially enclosed space.
Though the sounds of fighting and explosions in the distance were still clearly audible, at least here, no phantom enemies or members of the Demon King Cult would interrupt them for the moment.
Greg watched her stop and waited, somewhat puzzled, for her to continue.
But Wendy did not speak right away. She lowered her head, clasping her hands in front of her and nervously twisting her fingers together.
Her lips parted and closed several times, but no sound came out.
Seeing how hard she found it to speak only made Greg more curious about what she wanted to say.
"Wendy, what exactly is this method of yours?" Greg prompted gently.
After taking a deep breath, Wendy raised her head to look at Greg, as though she had finally made up her mind.
There was a hint of shyness in her gaze, and her voice trembled slightly. "If you are willing to trust me, Bishop... please close your eyes."
"Hmm?"
Greg froze for a moment.
Those words sounded very familiar. Back in the Magic Tower's emergency passage, Vivian had also asked him to close his eyes when she said she wanted to reward him.
But Greg's reason told him that Wendy was not the sort of person who would think of doing something like that at such a critical moment.
After all, Victoria, Vivian, Lilith, and Veronica were still fighting up ahead.
She must have had some reason she could not put into words.
So Greg pushed down his doubts and closed