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“What’s wrong, boy? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” said Noah as he approached. He then turned to the ref. “Sorry, I’m late. I think I drank something that didn’t agree with me.” He flashed Viktor an accusing glare, with the warrior trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

As the fateful duel erupted, Noah paced around them, undetectable to everyone. The skills and techniques they displayed were impressive, particularly how they incorporated their magic, but while he took the time to appreciate, he also stayed focused on his goal. He had to make Falco lose the fight, but do so in a way that wouldn’t draw suspicions. He couldn’t use his guns, or any of his illusion spells while he was concealed, but he had other ways of sabotaging him.

“I’m surrounded by the foolish and weak. At least you’re competent, Strauss. Helping you climb the ranks of advisors to back up my plans has been monumental. If only you could deal with Noah. Every time I even think about him, let alone hear his name, I struggle to contain my hatred, and perhaps it is traveling down the line of control. I can also sense Galvin’s terror widening the cracks in his psyche. Two decades of work and planning nearly ruined because of that vile snake. I was betting on Seraph to be one of the foundations of my war against the Profane, to plant him on the front line with Adwith Tarnas and have them rack up victories while Galvin received the people’s adoration, and now he’s just a shadow of his former self.