On the barren Gobi Beach, everyone who had joined the mage hunt gathered together. Among so many people, not a single one spoke, their expressions unusually grave.
The vast canyon that had appeared out of thin air was the cause of the strange atmosphere.
The joy they should have felt from their successful hunt was nothing in the face of this canyon. If that tentacle had deviated even slightly, everyone would have died—including Julio, the strongest among them. Human strength meant nothing before it.
"Ahem." The leader of the Heike Clan, a bald, burly man with no nose, finally spoke. "My men circled around from behind and measured it. The total length is eleven nautical miles."
Neither Charles, leaning against the ship's hull, nor Julio, crouched on its rail, said a word.
Margaret, standing to the side, glanced at Charles but ultimately remained silent as well.
