The night gale wouldn’t stop roaring, but the air here seemed to have gone completely still.
Bradley’s voice boomed under the night sky, prompting everyone to turn their eyes toward Roel and await his response.
That question proved to be a tricky one for Roel to answer as it happened to strike at his blind spot. There was no way he could be familiar with the executives of the Saints Convocation, especially not in this current generation. He was unable to answer Bradley’s question.
He stood silently under the yellow incandescence of the torches, seemingly deep in thought.
The lack of response flared up the killing intent in Bradley’s eyes. With a cold smirk, Bradley raised his hand up, ready to issue the order to rip Roel to pieces, but the latter suddenly spoke up at this moment.
“Bradley, who in the world made a dimwit like you a bishop? Are you trying to infringe on the privacy of the executives, especially before such a crowd?”
Roel’s seething rebuke withered Bradley’s air of confidence. He had been far too anxious that he failed to consider the implications of his question. It was indeed highly inappropriate to probe into the personal information of the Convocation’s executives, especially in public, but despite knowing his mistake, he was still unwilling to back down on this matter.
The problem was that agreeing with Roel’s rebuke meant that he would have to hold a one-on-one meeting with the latter in order to ascertain his identity. This was definitely not something Bradley was comfortable with, for he was a puppetmaster.
Whenever puppetmasters project their consciousness into their puppets to control them, their main body would fall limp and become vulnerable to attacks, which was why they had to hide their main bodies in a secure location before heading into combat.
Of course, puppetmasters would have learned some defensive spells on the off chance they were in a position where they couldn’t resort to their puppets. Nevertheless, it went without saying that a puppetmaster without his puppets would be comparatively weaker than their counterparts in the other Scholar Guilds.
There was a high possibility that Roel was a spy out for his life, so there was no way Bradley could agree to a one-on-one meeting with him.
“… You need not be worried about the others. They are disciples with unwavering faith in the Mother Goddess,” replied Bradley calmly.
Little did he know that Roel had already anticipated that answer.
“Unwavering faith, you say?”
Roel’s golden eyes shone with a cold gleam as his face warped in seething fury.
“I might have believed those words before, but ever since I arrived here, I could only feel one emotion from you and your subordinates—fear!”
“What did you say?” roared Bradley.
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