'That is...'
Roland's running steps didn't falter, but his eyes narrowed sharply as he instantly recognized the figure.
'Duadeng?'
......
......
Duadeng looked up, gazing at Tula who was suspended mid-air, his body radiating a majestic Magic Radiance. His wrinkled face betrayed no emotion, but he coughed heavily a few times. His weather-beaten, crimson eyes narrowed slightly.
'To be able to cast a Fourth Ring Spell so casually... his speed at absorbing Magic Power is astonishing,' the Old Zor Elf calmly assessed. 'But his Casting Techniques... they're far too crude. He's just brute-forcing it with raw Power.'
'If this were back in the old days... hmph!'
A flicker of resentment flashed in his eyes.
At that moment, Tula, noticing his attack had been blocked, raised an eyebrow slightly. His flawless face still wore that same compassionate and gentle smile, as if everything was under his control.
