"What's coming?"
Balzac, hearing Sister Ilois's words, looked outside the temple inexplicably. Outside Fisher's Protection Magic, the snowstorms of the Northern Realm turned fierce under the moonlight, engulfing the sky. An oppressive force, invisible yet palpable, overwhelmed everyone present, sending chills down their spines without the cold.
The pristine moonlight above grew more vivid, as if solidifying and segregating the nocturnal world of the Northern Realm.
In Sister Ilois's view, everything around seemed dyed in the backdrop of a Milky Way, sketching bright micro-stars mixed with blinking eyes. Initially, these gazes were merely looking around unintentionally, but upon spotting Sister Ilois, they turned as if having found something intriguing and began to look over.
These stares made Sister Ilois's legs wobble, but they held no obvious malice, unlike the ominous presence outside the temple's protective shield.
It... wants to kill me?
"Bang!"
