It was the moment when everyone fell into silence.
Some at the dramatic entrance, some at the tyrannical presence, and others at the shocking reunion.
“…Your Highness?”
The old man let out a thin groan.
Time, surging in fast, summoned in an instant the illnesses that youth had been holding back. The High Priest rubbed his own eyes—fogged like mist—again and again, unable to believe them.
“No, no… that can’t be…! I clearly saw with my own two eyes that he—he died…”
‘That one’s going to die if we leave him anyway.’
Thwack!
Jio glanced at the High Priest and landed on the water’s surface. In the shallow water, the ripples lapped at his ankles.
The indifferent magician’s eyes quickly read the situation.
The High Priest looked out of his mind, and Na Jo-yeon’s face was blank—both were looking this way, yet Jio keenly sensed their attention was fixed elsewhere.
Toward the World Tree’s roots.
Between the vast, burning roots, a single glass coffin lay with its lid open.
It seemed to have been shoved there by the impact from the airship’s crash.
‘What… is that?’
Gyeon Jioh knit one eyebrow. Déjà vu crashed over him. He’d seen this somewhere before…
“…Jio?”
Then behind him rang…