"Tch, just as I expected."
A cold voice, filled with murderous intent, sent shivers down even the spines of the Holy Empire's warriors.
The bishops and holy knights found it odd that the being who had spoken did not launch an immediate relentless assault but instead remained locked onto them, ready to strike the moment they made a move. However, they had been trained from childhood to make the best use of any advantage they possessed, and so they began assessing the situation without lowering their guard.
Anselmus, still catching his breath, held a small canary cage tightly in his hands. Inside, the three fourth-degree Hvítreiðr warriors they had captured stood unharmed. The cage, forged from enchanted materials, infused with divine blessings and spatial magic, was a true magical artifact. A mere group of low fourth-degree warriors stood no chance of breaking free from the inside.
