On the deck of the steel ship stood an elderly figure wearing a military coat.
Though he was an old man, his energy and vigor made him seem lively. His hair was a blend of black and white, and his beard had some black strands mixed in.
A smoking pipe dangled from his mouth.
Smoke continuously billowed from his lips.
With eyes not typical of old age and full of intense emotion, he stared at the distant island.
"Bishop, we have failed. We've conducted ten rounds of bombardment, yet we still haven't stopped the slow advance of the island. According to calculations, it's even accelerating, and the pace will only get faster."
Upon hearing the report from behind, the old man nodded.
His gaze towards the distant Flesh Island became pensive.
"Have the people from the Secret Spellcasting Council arrived?"
Responding to the old man's question, the person behind him nodded.
"We've already seen traces of their ships. They should arrive soon."
Hearing this, the old man nodded again.
