The envoy crossed the threshold of the crumbling city gates. With a first step, he was already before the church. With a second step, he was already within its halls. With a third, he stood in front of Edmun, and before the latter could react, a hand had grasped his throat, lifting him up from the ground.
All the air in the surroundings seemed lost to Sir Trolley, his body hardly having even the intent to fight back.
Edmun could vaguely feel that this man was in the Vanguard Class just like he was, and yet the difference might as well have been night and day.
Edmun grabbed the man's wrist, fighting to breathe, but it was like all the oxygen in his body was being leeched away, ripped clean from his body and pulled into the arm that was pinching his throat down.
