Bab 783: The End of The War

Approximately a few days later.

At Havenwright, in the magnificent main hall of the palace.

"Dirty cultists, what have you done to the king?"

Grant opened his mouth to speak, his face so cold it was as though he had just been fished out of a frozen lake. Not far before him, a few fellows, dressed in strange garments, had fallen on the ground; most of them had had their chests pierced through with silks of light and died. There was only an old man left, leaning over and clutching the wound on his stomach, heaving his last breaths.

Within the main hall, other than them and Grant, there were also many shamans. The shamans all watched the few men who had fallen to the ground; the sense of disgust in their eyes was apparent.

"Nothing much, we have only imparted onto His Majesty some of the true meanings of the goddess." However, as the last survivor, the wounded old man only raised his head and chuckled at Grant, answering this.