"Who's there?! Argh—!"
Just moments after Alan had finished off the last two attackers, a sharp scream suddenly rang out from behind him.
He spun around instantly, his instincts flaring, only to see a figure plummeting from the sky, like a bird whose wings had been violently torn away.
Alan narrowed his eyes.
The figure… was Francis!
"What happened?!"
Alan's brows knit into a tight frown. Without hesitation, he rushed toward the point where Francis was about to crash.
As he moved, his eyes caught a new presence floating in midair.
It wasn't someone he recognized.
The newcomer wore no mage robe, only a casual outfit in deep violet tones—but the chaotic swirl of mana around him made it unmistakably clear that this man was a mage.
The man calmly rubbed the rune ring on his finger, his lips curved into a faint smirk as he peered down at Alan from above.
But the unsettling part?
Even though the two weren't far apart, Alan couldn't see his face.
