Shelby lounged atop the tavern rooftop, lazily munching on an apple, the moonlight glinting off his relaxed form.
The old man narrowed his eyes, wary.
"Don't worry," Shelby said between bites. "This isn't my fight." He smiled. "But the real question is—can you handle him?"
The old man snapped his gaze toward Zane, who was still effortlessly dodging the dual assault from the masked duo. When he looked back—Shelby was gone.
Not even a whisper of movement. No sound. No shadow.
His brows furrowed. He tapped his walking cane on the dusty ground and muttered a spell under his breath, casting a wide-area detection field. The spell spread out in invisible waves, probing every corner for Shelby's presence.
Nothing.
He was gone without a trace.
Meanwhile, the clash between Erlin and the seductress had grown fierce and fast. What had started as graceful exchanges of daggers and agile maneuvers had now evolved into a deadly magic duel.
