"The heretic incident that arose from the undead cult in Irina has almost dealt a devastating blow to the local economy, and the imperial court is taking it very seriously. Moreover, various countries have also expressed concern about your proposal to form an alliance..."

  "That's enough..." Bishop Ronis waved his hand wearily, stopping the high priest from continuing his report. If the church hadn't suddenly and inexplicably summoned the other two high priests away, he really wouldn't have liked to let this subordinate handle these matters. In a hoarse and listless voice, he asked: "How is that wanted poster coming along?"

  Cusbert, the high priest, pulled out a portrait clearly depicting a young man. Below it was written in small letters: "Originally a divine priest of the Magic Academy. Found to be colluding with the Cult of the Dead, extremely dangerous, 5,000 gold coins reward." This was different from the wanted notices of the elves, which were not just circulated through adventurer's guilds and thief organizations, but used the power of the state and church to hunt down across the entire continent.

  50,000 gold coins. In the past decade, the largest and most dangerous gang of thieves on the mainland had a wanted amount that was only one-tenth of this person's. As soon as this wanted poster is released, every bounty hunter, thief organization, and mercenary group will pin it to their bedhead, memorize every detail of his appearance, and use every method to gather information about his personality, habits, experiences, likes, walking habits, and even his farting posture. And once there's a hint of news about him, countless followers will swarm in. Even the attention and admiration received by the former number one beauty and number one scholar are not worth mentioning compared to this person's.

  Bishop Ronis gazed at the figure with a hazy and scattered look in his eyes, shook his head, let out a long sigh, and said: "You haven't forgotten the most important point, have you? Note that it is absolutely not allowed to harm him, he must be kept alive."

  "Yes. I'll prepare immediately, and then inform the others to disperse." High Priest Cusbert put away the portrait. A ugly face full of excited expression, even Bishop Ronis could feel that his emotions were a bit excessive. "Bishop, you cultivated him, trusted him so much, yet he actually went to collude with the Death Spirit Association..."

  "Alright, you may withdraw. I am tired." Bishop Ronis waved his hand impatiently. "You can announce this matter to the others yourself."

  Things have finally come to the step he least wanted to take. Although this matter has not been made public yet, it's only a matter of time now. As soon as this wanted notice is issued, his heart and soul will be lost. Bishop Ronis closed his eyes, he had never felt so old before.

  The high priest did not leave the small study, but stood in his original position.

  "What's wrong? Is there something else?" The bishop slightly opened his eyes.

  "And also... because Ham and Duke Mlarak have come together to request an audience with you."

  "What's Ham doing with the Duke? Let them in." Bishop Ronis frowned, though he was friends with the Marquis, it was a very private relationship and they rarely met in such formal settings. And today he came with Duke Mlak, which was even stranger. He suddenly noticed that the High Priest seemed to be somewhat unusual, looked at him: "What's wrong? Your heartbeat and breathing are all chaotic. What are you tense about?"

  "Not... it's just... I thought of you cultivating that god official with such care, but he actually disappointed your efforts." The great god official lowered his head, and his stern face twitched unnaturally. It seemed like the excitement from earlier had not yet passed.

  Bishop Ronis let out a deep sigh and shook his head without saying anything. This subordinate had always had some opinions about himself being promoted beyond the usual rules, probably due to jealousy. He was also someone who took power and gains and losses too seriously.

  Cuthbert the High Priest went out with Inham and Duke Mlak, then the High Priest stood behind Bishop Ronis, and the duke and marquis bowed to the bishop in unison: "May God be with you, Your Excellency."

  Bishop Ronis nodded slightly and asked: "There is another set of footsteps outside that came with you, who is it?"

  "He is merely a minor attendant of mine, let him wait outside." The duke replied respectfully.

  "Is there something you two gentlemen want from me?" Bishop Ronis asked.

  Duke Mula stepped forward, bowing his head and saying: "I've already heard that the divine officer had colluded with the Death Spirit Association. So I came to report the situation to you. A few nights ago, I saw him jump out of the window from the little girl's room and escape into the streets, losing sight of him. I asked the little girl about it, although she didn't say anything, but I can still judge that they must... Alas, I'm really incompetent in teaching my daughter, to let her get involved with this kind of person..."

  "I don't think you came here to say such nonsense." Bishop Ronis waved his hand. He was still as languid, but the fire that had been extinguished in his eyes suddenly flashed once. He was not in a good mood now, and he was also very tired, having no interest or spirit to engage in the formulaic and perfunctory courtesy with the duke.

  The duke smiled slightly, seeming to finally reveal a cunning expression that matched his nature and intentions. "What I mean is, if the bishop really wants to catch him, it wouldn't be bad to use the young lady as bait. As long as we spread the news through the right channels and let him know about her precarious situation, he'll definitely appear at the time and place we expect..." His expression returned to its original sincerity. "I just want to help share some of the bishop's worries..."

  The flames in Bishop Ronis's eyes gathered again, focusing on the Duke's affable face.

  This is indeed a very simple and effective way, which also conforms to the Duke's unscrupulous approach. However, from a certain perspective, this is almost an inevitable trap. Bishop Ronis' heart moved slightly.

  But the bishop's attention was immediately diverted. He vaguely felt that even this seemingly sinister plan was not the duke's intention for coming here, and he didn't need to come to show himself or join forces with him.

  Bishop Ronis's gaze did not leave the Duke's face. Under that plump and sincere face, there should be something unexpected... But now he was exhausted and didn't have the energy to think deeper, Bishop Ronis's gaze wandered again. He ignored the Duke and looked at Inham: "Do you have anything?"

  "I've already heard the news of his escape," said the marquis in a low voice. "I'm very surprised."

  "I also find it unexpected." Bishop Ronis sighed again, he had already sighed a lot today. He really was getting old, he thought.

  "I also heard that he didn't even see your face and just left, is that true?"

  Bishop Ronis nodded with a weak posture unique to an old man.

  "Didn't he leave you with any message or anything?"

  Bishop Ronis shook his head.

  "Ah." The marquis nodded. He looked very strange today, without his usual anger and vitality. He hesitated for a moment, and also let out a sigh, which was filled with helplessness and powerlessness. "Actually, I came here today to talk to you about something."

  "Let's talk about it later, I'm very tired."

  "No. It must be said now, and here." The marquis's expression was surprisingly serious and solemn, seemingly incompatible with his character.

  Bishop Ronis waved his hand at both the Duke and the High Priest: "You may all withdraw first."

  The marquis shook his head resolutely and said, "No need. This is a very important matter. They must also be here."

  Bishop Ronis furrowed his brow, today everyone seemed to be acting strange. He was really tired and annoyed, but these things were one after another inexplicable.

  "You know, I actually have very few friends." The marquis stepped forward, his expression and voice both melancholic. His voice was low and suppressed, and he suddenly used air magic to prevent the sound from spreading, so that only the two of them could hear this conversation.

  "When a person's status is very special, whether high or low, good or bad, it's hard for them to make true friends." The marquis continued. He raised his head and sighed, then lowered his head again to look at Ronis, the sorrow in his eyes deepening.

  Bishop Ronis nodded slightly, letting out a long sigh. Indeed, he was probably the person who understood this point best. Although it didn't seem like an appropriate place to discuss such topics, Bishop Ronis believed that Marquis had some special reason and could sense something unusual in his friend's eyes.

  The marquis walked up to Bishop Ronis, stretched out his hand and grasped the bishop's thin hands. "And you are one of my friends." The desolation and helplessness in his eyes deepened, with a hint of sorrow. His hands were icy cold, gripping tightly, his words sincere. "Since her death twenty years ago, you have been very kind to me, trusting me. I really regard you as a good friend."

  Bishop Ronis felt the breathing of Cusbert behind him suddenly becoming heavy and his heartbeat quickening. Probably he was angry at this very rude behavior of a man he had always disliked.

  The Duke of Mraak in front still had an honest and sincere expression.

  The archbishop vaguely felt that something was wrong, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

  "But I have to tell you something now. I know you'll be very surprised when you hear it." The marquis lowered his head and leaned in close to Bishop Ronis' ear. Although their conversation was inaudible to others, he still used this posture as if it were a truly secretive and shameful matter. His voice remained sincere. "Do you remember that vampire from last time? I'm the one who let it out... I'm actually a necromancer. Today, I've come to help them kill you."

  The bishop's eyes blazed with a fierce light, gathering and almost turning into two real flames that illuminated the face of this old friend. Shock, anger, unwillingness, sadness, these expressions were instantly squeezed together on his thin face.

  His extreme shock and anger were not only due to this completely unimaginable confession, but also the murderous aura that appeared behind him and that hint of coldness.

  There was no pain, only a cool, tingling sensation that instantly penetrated his body from the skin on his back, almost reaching his heart. This seemingly not-too-intense feeling was frantically devouring the life force of the surrounding tissues, and even the magical energy inside his body showed signs of starting to solidify. This was not just poison, but also a strong curse-infused venom.

  This knife could only be the masterpiece of High Priest Kusbert standing behind him.

  This is a despicable knife and also a very clumsy knife.

  The great priest is not a good killer. From the beginning, his breathing and heartbeat were all abnormal, and the killing intent that burst out before he made his move was also clearly felt by people. Even if it's not extremely high-minded, one should be able to detect it in advance and dodge.

  But Bishop Ronis did not notice. He was already very tired and his heart was exhausted. Even if he noticed the abnormality of this subordinate, he didn't investigate further. Moreover, what the Marquis said was too shocking, so he had no time to react to the killing intent behind him. Thus, this fatal sneak attack succeeded smoothly.

  But a successful ambush does not necessarily mean a successful assassination.

  White magic surged into Ronis' body, rushing towards the wound on his back. Without even needing to chant a prayer, the light of two high-level healing spells, 'Rebirth in Flames' and 'Exorcism', immediately flashed across his body, suppressing the curse and damage. If only considering the mastery of white magic, even the Pope might not be able to surpass Ronis on the continent. No matter how severe the injury or how vicious the curse, as long as it wasn't fatal, he could suppress it with his full-powered white magic.

  The face of the high-ranking official, Cusbert, behind him had already changed. He had been tense all along, and when he saw the light of healing magic again, he was even more frightened. He knew better than anyone else what it meant to cast two high-level healing spells in an instant, and only now did he realize that this old man's magical power had long surpassed their expectations and imagination.

  He drew out the murderous dagger, and this time plunged it straight at Ronnis's throat. A hideous face was twisted and strained until it was no longer human.

  Unfortunately, the knife only stabbed into a sudden burst of white electric light shield that appeared behind Bishop Ronis. A crackling sound, and the high priest's entire person bounced back.

  From Custbert's attack, the Duke had been standing there without moving, even his face was always that sincere expression. It wasn't until the High Priest was knocked back that his eyes twitched slightly.

  Although I knew Bishop Ronis was difficult to deal with, I didn't expect him to be this difficult.

  The poison on that dagger was enough to kill an elephant, but this withered old man not only endured it, he could even cast magic in an instant and knock down the assassin.

  But even so, the duke did not move, he could not move. He was the last link in all the plans, and if he failed to get his hands on it now, the entire plan would be a complete failure. He had to wait for an absolutely final moment. Now it was a contest between the poisonous curse on the dagger and Bishop Ronis's white magic.

  It was at this moment that only Bishop Ronies felt it, and another magical fluctuation quietly passed from his hand at this very opportune time.

  The marquis's face was still so sorrowful and stagnant. His hands were clenched tightly, and Bishop Ronis couldn't pull them out even with force.

  The magic wave that came over was not sharp, nor was it surging. It was like a thick and smelly mud that kept pouring into his body, staining the muscles along the way with its dark color, and then using its extremely corrosive smell to stir up the entire body's magical waves and resonance. The two healing spells he had just applied to himself immediately collapsed like mud in the soaking of this foul water.

  "'Flesh-eating and bone-rotting' is the dual erosion of death magic and dark magic. If it weren't for the sacred white magic surging within this body, the moment it came into contact with this fluctuation, it would have turned into a lump of rotting flesh that wouldn't even interest rats and flies."

  "Y..." Bishop Ronis's voice was hoarse. Magical power surged out of his body, and white electrical sparks began to burst around him, immediately condensing into five dazzling white light balls.

  "The spirit of lightning, the wrath of thunder, I invoke thee in my name..." Bishop Ronis finally shouted out the hoarse incantation. He had given up on healing and was gathering all his magic to launch an attack. Five orbs of thunderous explosions floated above his head, arranged in a pentagram formation, with the electric light at the center gradually taking on a milky white sacred glow, evolving into a magical array. This was his final blow, using up all his magic and life as the cost, and if he could just complete his incantation, these three people would not be able to escape unscathed.

  Titan's Wrath. This is a forbidden spell born from the fusion of Light Magic and Air Magic.

  This is almost a magical existence in theory. A magician who can cultivate both air and light magic to the top level is hard to come by in a hundred years, and most importantly, the power of this magic is fundamentally uncontrollable, with unimaginable destructive power that will turn everything within a certain radius, including the practitioner, into dust.

  But Bishop Ronnis has now resorted to using this magic. He doesn't care about harming innocent people, nor does he mind if the entire Magic Academy is shattered by the enormous power of this explosion. That's still better than letting the Magic Academy and even the entire Empire fall into the hands of these three assassins.

  He already understood that this was a premeditated assassination, and the significance of this assassination was so profound and sinister that even the two assassins might not understand it. He had to use this suicidal method to inform Sandru...

  At this moment, Duke Mira moved. The moment he moved, the kind and sincere expression disappeared instantly, replaced by an extremely cold and stern killing intent. It turned out that his chubby face, which seemed to be born with a kind expression, was also so majestic and awe-inspiring when it was completely calm.

  He knew exactly what a top-notch magician's final blow meant. He had to wait, wait until Ronis Archbishop made his move, wait until the Archbishop's magic was near its end and could no longer change his moves, before making his own move, allowing his attack to be fatal while also interrupting his magic.

  He strode forward, sword flashing in a single swift motion. His chubby body now exhibited the lithe agility of a hunting leopard as he moved from one instant to the next, appearing before Bishop Ronnis with his slender sword thrusting unerringly into the prelate's throat.

  The incantation's voice was immediately hoarse, and the last few characters were left in his throat, unable to break through the obstruction of the sword body and rush out. The fine sword pierced from bottom to top at the base of the Archbishop's neck, accurately piercing his medulla oblongata without even touching the bone.

  This is an injury from which no magic or healing can recover, or a fatal wound.

  Perhaps it was true that he had left. Bishop Roness only managed to have this vague thought before his body slumped onto the table. One of the most powerful magicians on the continent, the most prestigious bishop of the church, the spiritual pillar of the Aynfaster Empire, and the old man who still held great hope for a brighter future had died just like that.

  The assassination was successful.

  But the face of Duke Mlak did not show any relaxation or joy. The expression of the already pale-faced high priest began to distort, and his complexion turned even greener. They were all staring at the five white spheres surrounded by electric light floating in the air.

  The magic circle has disappeared, and the Titan God's Wrath can no longer be activated. The thunder magic circle in the air has returned to being ordinary thunderclaps, its power is now worlds apart from that forbidden spell.

  But even so, these five are still the most aggressive high-level magic in air magic. Any one of them is enough to blow this room to smithereens. They may be able to escape with their own abilities or survive the explosion, but everything that happens here will also be unable to hide in the explosion.

  Duke Mular and the High Priest couldn't even breathe. These five Thunderclap Bombs were just floating lightly in the air, and a slight airflow could cause them to collide with each other or float away and hit the wall or other objects. The Duke's slender eyes no longer had their usual warmth, and the sharp light stabbed fiercely at the High Priest's face, which was as pale as the floor. He himself was not a magician and did not know how to resolve the current situation.

  The High Priest finally came to his senses from the shock. He first clasped his hands together, aiming at the five thunderclap bombs in mid-air, and muttered an incantation. Only then did he turn to Duke Mlak and say: "I don't have such a high level of proficiency in air magic, I can only fix the spell like this... it's up to you to think of a way."

  "Come and help, you don't want to die either." Duke Mlak said to the Marquis. Although he wasn't quite clear about the Marquis's magical level, nor was he certain whether this defeated son who had only mixed in the Magic Academy for a while still remembered magic or not, nor did he trust this temporary helper who came with threats, but now there was no one else to rely on.

  But the marquis was as still as if he hadn't heard anything. He seemed not only to have not heard, but also not seen the five floating above his head that could turn him into minced meat. His expression was all sorrow and desolation and apology, still holding the hand of Bishop Ronis whom he had secretly calculated to death, looking at the bishop's pair of eyes that were completely not closed.

  The Duke of Marlborough glared at the incompetent scion with a fierce gaze. There was no time to deal with this now. Kusbert wouldn't be able to keep the Thunderclap Bomb suspended in mid-air for much longer, and it was impossible to expect these small things to disperse on their own; he had to take action himself.

  The duke steeled himself, took a deep breath. Standing still, he slowly stretched out his hand and sent the slender sword that had just killed Bishop Ronis to the side of a light ball, until the tip of the sword was almost touching the edge of the light ball when his hand and shoulder suddenly exerted force.

  The slender sword and his wrist moved at an almost imperceptible high speed, looking like just a slight tremble. The light ball began to shine brighter, then split into countless tiny white light spots that scattered in the air.

  The duke let out a sigh of relief, and this temporary method he came up with was indeed effective. However, a thin layer of sweat also seeped out on his forehead.

  It's not just because of tension, but also because of exhaustion. Just now, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, he relied solely on his wrist strength to slash out dozens of swords, and even attached sword energy to them, which reacted with the violently brewing magical power inside the thunderball before it could take shape, completely destroying the entire magical structure. The technique, speed, and sword energy were all executed flawlessly, without a single deviation. Such a precise, subtle, swift, and precise slash consumed an amount of energy and mental strength that was in no way inferior to a major battle.

  The duke steeled himself, stood up again, and slowly extended his sword forward, chopping and slashing swiftly and mercilessly. After that, the second Thunderclap Bomb was thoroughly disintegrated into simple scattered magical elements once more. The duke's sweat dripped down profusely.

  When the third thunderbolt turned into a light point again, it also made a small crackling sound. The other two thunderballs moved slightly under this fluctuation, almost colliding with each other. The duke took a few steps back, his face flushed for a moment before turning pale again.

  The duke's back was already soaked. His third sword just now had a bit of weakness, the sword energy and swinging speed both had defects. The most critical thing was that the magical shock from the disintegration of the thunderball almost bounced him out. Now his right shoulder to half of his body were numb.

  Cuthbert's ugly face had become as dry as a dried pig liver. Maintaining such an air of stillness was somewhat strenuous for him, and anyone could see that he wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer.

  There were also two floating in the air. The light balls weren't big, with a pure white color and surrounded by electric lights that looked like they still looked good, emitting a hissing fine sound. However, the duke's gaze was as if he was looking at two terrifying ancient giant beasts.

  The duke closed his eyes and took a deep breath, sweat dripping down his chubby face to his chin, dropping one drop at a time. He suddenly exhaled loudly and swung his sword again. The fourth Thunderclap Bomb was finally disarmed as well. But along with it came a muffled thud.

  The sound was not loud, and it could not disturb the people outside the large church. The duke, even though he was very tired, still managed to concentrate almost all his spirit and energy into one sword strike that almost cut off all the magical fluctuations in the thunderball, leaving only about a thousandth of the magical force reacting, causing a small explosion.

  The power of this explosion was not even comparable to a slightly larger firecracker, it would absolutely not hurt anyone, but in the current situation, it was absolutely fatal. The last thunderbolt that floated in the air and swayed back and forth, although it did not explode directly, was shaken by this explosion and flew towards the wall on the side.

  Cuthbert's ugly face turned black, and he fell to the ground, exhausted. Protecting this deadly little thing from directly exploding into a massive explosion in the shock had already consumed his mental strength, which was originally struggling to support itself.

  The duke's face didn't look much better. The previous sword strike was already at the limit, and it would be absolutely impossible to swing again in a short period of time. Without sufficient sword energy and speed skills, going to chop that magic ball filled with destructive explosive power again would be like using a burning torch to poke a firework package.

  The speed of the thunderous explosion was not fast, and it could be seen very clearly. For the first time, a desperate look appeared in the duke's eyes. He, who had never believed in any religion and had just killed the bishop with his own hands, even began to pray for a miracle from heaven.

  But the miracle happened. Just as the white light ball was about to hit the wall, it suddenly stopped and turned a corner, flying out of the small window above and disappearing into the sky in the blink of an eye.

  The duke stared blankly for a while before turning his head to look at the creator of this miracle. It was actually the marquis who had been standing there motionless all along.

  The marquis lowered his hand, which had been raised to cast the air magic, and gazed at the duke's astonished eyes with a faint smile. "It's nothing, this isn't some profound magic. These little tricks just happen to be within my grasp." His expression remained gloomy as he looked down at the corpse of Bishop Ronis on the ground, letting out a sigh, his eyes filled with sorrow and worry. "You should do what you need to do."

  The duke's narrow eyes narrowed, with no attempt to conceal his wary expression, scanning back and forth on the marquis' handsome face that perfectly matched his identity as a dissolute artist, but he didn't find anything worth noticing. He turned his head to look at the high priest who was struggling to get up from the ground, frowning and asking: "Are you okay?"

  "It's nothing." Cuthbert took a few deep breaths, shook his head, and looked at the marquis with a slightly surprised gaze. However, he wasn't extremely shocked; this was indeed not some profound magic, but rather just a more precise grasp of air magic. Perhaps this loser simply liked to use these little tricks to deceive people.

  The duke nodded, finding some reassuring elements in the high priest's expression. He wiped the sweat from his face with a satisfied sigh and his mouth curved into its usual friendly smile once again, completely restoring his usual gentle and amiable demeanor, like a merchant who had just completed a satisfactory transaction and was now waiting for the conclusion, he said to Kusbert: "Let's continue then."

  Cuthbert laboriously dragged Bishop Ronnis's body into the corner, pulled a tea table in front of it and walked out.

  Before long, the high priest returned with someone. It was the person who had been standing outside the door and whom Ronis, the bishop, had heard earlier. He was a young man in his early twenties, quite thin and tall, with a build and appearance that bore some resemblance to Asa's. He was also dressed in a set of priestly robes, with a hat on his head that covered half of his face. He looked around awkwardly and curiously, but immediately lowered his head under the gaze of High Priest Kusbert and didn't dare move.

  He was originally just a street urchin in a village outside the capital, but a few days ago he was inexplicably caught by several people, and these people who looked like noble officials told him they had arranged a task for him, with great rewards if completed. Unexpectedly, today he was dressed up like this and brought to the Magic Academy in the capital.

  The high priest pulled out a small leather pouch from his bosom and tossed it to the young man, saying: "Pour this over yourself." The young man opened the pouch, and inside was a small bag of blood. He followed the high priest's instructions and poured the blood over himself and his face.

  "Alright. Now you turn around and run out of here, out of the Magic Academy. Do you still remember the route we arranged for you?" Kusbert's eyes glared with authority. "Hm? Do you remember?"

  "I remember..." The young man nodded nervously.

  "Don't be afraid. We're just playing a game." The duke's gentle voice always had a calming effect, and the gold coin he pulled out of his pocket immediately dispelled the young man's fear and filled him with determination to listen. "You hear me, if you can get there faster than we expected, I'll reward you with another gold coin."

  "Yes." The young man's powerful reply indicated that he would instantly create the fastest footsteps of his life.

  "Go." The duke waved his hand magnanimously, and the young man immediately showed off his expected vigor and took off running.

  Outside the grand cathedral, there were already many people, all of whom had been arranged by Cusbert. When the young man rushed out with great momentum, he must have bumped into someone, as faint cries of surprise could be heard coming from outside. "Isn't that Lord God?" "How did you get hurt? So much blood..." "Lord God, please slow down..."

  At last, even Cusbert's stiff face began to show a smile. As for the young man who ran with such vigor, his footsteps under the motivation of gold coins were definitely not something that someone chasing after him could catch up to. As long as he followed the route set out for him beforehand, he would soon disappear into the streets of the royal capital. And before long, he would forever disappear from this world. Because his role had been fulfilled, things that have fulfilled their purpose are bound to disappear.

  A purple glow of teleportation magic suddenly lit up in the room, and the marquis beside him had somehow opened a teleportation scroll. After the light faded, he was gone.

  "What the devil is he up to? Where did he get that teleportation scroll?" Cuthbert exclaimed, glaring at the empty air where the marquis had vanished.

  "He's no fool," said the duke with a light laugh. "He's clever enough to know his usefulness is at an end, so he's making himself scarce."

  "We must find a way to silence this guy, right, Duke...” The high priest's words were cut off mid-sentence as he suddenly felt himself lifted into the air. His lips continued to move, but no sound came out.

  He flew through the air, doing a few flips, and took in everything in the room. The body of Bishop Ronnis was still over there, and the Duke was backing away from it, wiping the blood off his sword because he didn't want to get any on himself. In front of him, a headless corpse had blood shooting out of its neck stump high into the air as it slumped forward, and the body shape and clothes looked very familiar.

  Thud. He fell to the floor, looking up at the duke with a tilted head, and finally vaguely heard the duke say in a low voice: "Yes, I know."

  The duke carefully erased every footprint of himself in the room, eliminating any trace of his existence. Everything at the Magic Academy had been arranged very properly by the high priest, and he and the marquis had both come here quietly. Others only knew that Kusbert and the priest came to the bishop's study, then saw the bloody priest running out.

  He quickly gathered his things, opened the scroll, and in the next moment, the dusty Duke appeared in the middle of the magic academy's teleportation array.

  "Good day, Your Excellency." The two mages guarding the magic array nodded and smiled at the duke. "What brings you out again? You've been quite busy these past few days."

  "Yes." The duke, who never carried a cane, nodded kindly. "There are urgent matters to attend to in both the countryside and the capital, and I've used up quite a few transmission scrolls over the past few days."

  A considerable commotion suddenly came from the direction of the cathedral. "What's going on?" The two magicians and the duke went out together. Many people were seen rushing in and out of the cathedral. The disturbance spread at an incredible speed.

  "The Archbishop and High Priest have been killed." A priest came running over, his face pale with panic.

  "What?!" The two magicians exclaimed in unison, their faces pale with shock. The Duke's face was even more astonished.