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The state of the marquess was not normal at a glance. Black veins were sprouting like spider webs across his neck and face. His eyes, bloodshot, were constantly scanning his surroundings. The hand holding his cane was trembling. The curse of the swamp had begun to take effect properly.
Mason, unaware of this fact, asked, "Father, why, what is the matter?"
The marquess, in a state of confusion, shouted, "Do you not see this? The divine mark of the shining goddess on the soldiers. The holiness formed on spears and bows...?"
"What on earth is...." Mason stopped mid-sentence, his breath halted.
Purple magic began to spread in the marquess's eyes upon seeing Ian. "Now, now everything is clear! You, you're not a mere paladin! You were the incarnation of that damned Goddess, Tir En!"
With the sound of a deep growl following, the marquess, charged with magic throughout his body, roared, "Don't be ridiculous...! I will not accept your judgment!"
The faces of the citizens and soldiers watching him were struck with horror.
"The lord has truly fallen!"
"All of the young lord’s words were true...!"
A relieved smile finally spread across Ian's lips. There was no need to continue this cringe-worthy imitation of a paladin any longer.
"Why... Damn it...!" Mason gasped, stepping back just as Ian lunged toward...
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