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“Henry…?” Iselan muttered in disbelief.
With an awkward smile, Henry replied, “Sorry for being late. Things were so busy that I unfortunately couldn’t pay much attention to this place.”
Henry briefly scanned his surroundings with the corners of his eyes: a mournful atmosphere, countless corpses of Arthus’ followers below the rampart, and the gruesome remains of a soldier among them.
This was how far the evil influence of the blind believers had reached.
“How did you get here…?”
Iselan was still barely able to get his words out, feeling as though he were dreaming. He couldn’t believe that Henry had just shown up at this timing, this late at night, to comfort him.
“Why don’t we talk more about this somewhere else?” proposed Henry.
It was going to be a long night.
***
After moving to Iselan’s room, the two of them talked for quite some time. Of course, Henry did most of the talking, and Iselan just listened.
Their conversation lasted for about two hours, and they didn’t drink any alcohol while at it. Toward the end of it, Iselan was stunned.
“...So you’re saying that you became… a god of magic…...
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