Anno spoke, and his voice seemed to have lost some of its usual roughness.
It had gained a hint of a low rasp and a strange, magnetic quality, as if the very structure of his vocal cords had subtly changed.
This minute change didn't capture Lucius's full attention. Right now, he only cared about the solution that could save him from his desperate plight.
"A solution! Tell me your solution!"
He practically roared the demand.
Anno set down his teacup, his fingertips tapping gently on the tabletop as the scene he had witnessed in the High Tower not long ago surfaced in his mind.
Those so-called Wizards were busying themselves with a complex ritual, attempting to jointly cast what they considered their trump card: the Maze Technique.
Recalling the scene, the true master deep within his consciousness let out a derisive snort.
'What a pathetic, broken era. A mere Eight Ring Spell, yet it requires a convoluted ritual and multiple people just to barely cast it.'
