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[Focus now.]
A violet symbol flashed on his forehead. As he activated the Superior Vision, a spell of the Original Magic, his vision first split into two parts, then four and finally into eight segments.
Swooooosh—!
Swoosh—!
The landscape quickly receded, as if it were being pulled away. Looking down, Israphil felt a dizzying sensation from the great height, but he reminded himself that the scene before his eyes was not his own; he was merely sharing it.
But despite realizing that, the wind he felt vividly caused him to tremble.
Flap, flap...!
The hawk, which had begun to glide by rowing its wings a few times, soared even faster into the sky.
“Phew...” Israphil exhaled a rough breath. He gazed at the landscape through the eyes of hawks, specially bred by the Flying Bow tribe of the Great Plains.
Although they weren’t bound by magical contracts, the hawks of the Flying Bow were actually superior to most familiars.
Nevertheless, sharing the vision of one hawk was quite challenging, yet Israphil was using his Superior Vision on eight hawks simultaneously. The concentration required was immense, causing beads of sweat to form on his forehead despite being absolutely still.
“Stop! Step back.”
A maid standing beside him tried to wipe his forehead with a towel, but Allen jumped in to stop her.
“Don’t touch him until I give permission. If you don’t want to see him hurt, that is. If you make a mistake, his mana could backfire...
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