The grand audience chamber of the Magniora Tower trembled violently.
The air inside the marble hall felt as if it were boiling with echoed fury.
"YOU FILTHY, SACRILEGIOUS FIENDS!!"
Five Archbishops bolted up from their grand seats in perfect unison. Their pristine white robes billowed wildly—not from any draft in the room, but from the sheer, explosive pressure of the mana surging within their bodies.
Lethal Circle 6 magic instantly flared to life above their palms. Blazing orange infernos. High-pressure cyclones. Blinding flashes of holy light. Two of the bishops had already stepped forward, fully prepared to obliterate the two filthy intruders who had just breached their sacred sanctum.
Roland didn't retreat a single inch. Nor did his hand drift to the hilt of the dagger at his waist.
Instead, the diplomat raised both his empty hands into the air. Open, devoid of any threat. "We came here purely to converse. Not to spill blood."
