It was a boy who looked only about twelve or thirteen years old.
He had a delicate and beautiful face, like an angel descending to the world, his short hair fluttering in the night wind, as bright as moonlight.
But the most striking feature was his eyes.
They were blood-red eyes, like they had witnessed endless ages, witnessing countless cycles of life and death.
Rashar slowly descended onto the terrace, as if he were enjoying an interesting play.
When his gaze fell upon Saint Baldo, his lips curled into a slight smile.
"Your Majesty of the Cerryti Empire."
Rashar spoke, his voice crisp and bone-chillingly cold,
"It's time for you to depart."
His words were like a spell, instantly enveloping the entire Cret Memorial Square, causing the actions of the Awakening Army Gods in battle to irresistibly slow down again.
They had never encountered an enemy like this, who could easily suppress all of them with spiritual power!
