Wiiiiing.

As the window lowered, cold air from the North rushed in, cooling his head. Filgrim Gaunessia gazed at the snowy plains in silence.

'The life signals have been cut off.' 

His disciples were dead. Most likely, the 2,000 soldiers who were with them were also dead.

'In the end, was it a trap?' 

Even if it was a trap, he had thought that leaving ten disciples behind would be enough to prepare for such a situation. Now that they had failed, he had to find out the reason.

“Scan.”

With closed eyes, Filgrim examined the area near the enemy's castle through magic.

'It's clean.' 

An area of about 10 kilometers had been neatly erased.

'But magic always leaves traces.' 

After he carefully surveyed the area, he slowly opened his eyes.

“I see. Was it Glorious Death?”

He nodded without even realizing it. He had a very good idea as to why his disciples had died.

'They must have thought they could cancel it.' 

But the enemy mage's level was probably higher. If it were him, he would have twisted the crucial parts of the magic. Undoubtedly, the method that the enemy used wasn’t much different.

'Interesting.' 

Filgrim dropped his...