Ten thousand miles away, in the Black Lion Kingdom, at the headquarters of the Dark Church.
Inside an office atop the spire of a black church.
Klemerson, leader of the Dark Church's Fallen Angels, was an expert at the Saint-level Peak.
A man knelt on one knee before him, his two pairs of wings battered, his entire body swathed in bandages. His aura was as weak as a candle flame that might go out at any moment.
Halackwit.
"What did you say?" Klemerson's voice was calm, but something within that calm sent chills down the spine.
"That young man." Halackwit lowered his head, his voice hoarse. "His realm... far exceeds his battle-qi level."
Klemerson did not interrupt him, gesturing for him to continue.
"His realm has reached the level of a Saint-level Peak," Halackwit said. Recalling that blue-violet sword ray and the execution platform that had emerged from the void, his voice took on a trace of wariness he could barely conceal. "He has a method that can lock onto the soul while attacking. The protective power the Lord bestowed upon me... ninety percent of it was consumed just to withstand that strike."
"A Saint-level Peak?" Klemerson frowned slightly. "Are you certain?"
"Certain." Halackwit raised his head, revealing his lightning-charred face. "His battle-qi is still at the ninth level, but his realm... has already touched the threshold of the Saint-level Peak. If he breaks through to Saint..."
He did not continue, but his meaning was already clear.
If Loa broke through to Saint, he would become a grave threat.
Klemerson fell silent for a long time.
His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of his chair, once, twice, three times, like some ancient way of measuring time.
"A guest elder of the Dawson Chamber of Commerce," he murmured. "That brat