His approaching figure felt ominous in a way I couldn't quite put into words.
The killing intent radiating from him as he flew toward us was overwhelming—so dense it felt as though the air itself had frozen. My instincts screamed danger, and for a brief moment, my body refused to move.
I knew who he was.
Vermut.
A veteran mage who had once entered the Magic Tower.
A man spoken of in hushed tones, even among nobles.
But still…
I never imagined he'd be this formidable.
This wasn't simply strength beyond the standard. It was on an entirely different plane. Despite being well past sixty, the mana he exuded was vast and profound, layered so deeply that I couldn't even begin to grasp its depth with my current senses.
To think a retired mage could be like this…
How many monsters like him were still walking around in this world?
