Fine Traditions of the Magical World

"Cough, cough... L-let's put that matter aside for now. The most important thing is to find Bell quickly and stop what he's doing! Go!"

William forcibly changed the subject to cover up his embarrassment.

Of course, he wasn't wrong. If Bell kept this up, the existence of the Magical World would truly be exposed completely to the Muggles. That was far too heavy a burden for him to bear.

However, before Sebas could respond, Bell, apparently feeling that his preparations were complete, made another move.

Frostmourne, the Magic Sword that had somehow appeared at Bell's waist, began to emit a faint icy mist. The profound runes on its blade all lit up in the span of a single blink.

A vast ocean of Magic Power, beyond the imagination of ordinary Wizards, poured into Bell's body. Twin rays of magical radiance shot from his eyes, stretching several meters before slowly fading away.

After more than two years of training, Bell could now skillfully wield Frostmourne's power. At his limit, he could even unleash more than half of Frostmourne's might. Compared to when this Magic Sword had first been forged, the difference was like heaven and earth.

With his palm facing upward and curled as though supporting something unimaginably heavy, Bell slowly raised his right arm.

Following Bell's movement, the previously calm sea gradually began to churn.

The seawater flowed faster and faster, eventually forming a massive whirlpool. A shadow emerged at its center, as though some terrifying deep-sea beast was about to break free from the ocean's restraints, burst through the surface, and destroy the world.

At this demonic sight, people around the world watching the image in the sky involuntarily cried out in alarm. Even old sailors who had weathered countless storms silently prayed for the sea god's protection, their