The person in charge from the History and Ritual Association in Royal City retreated dozens of meters instantaneously, landing among his own association's members with a thump, kneeling on one knee, and breaking out in a cold sweat.
Leading figures such as the Silver Dragon Witch Blaze of the Constellation Sect's Chief Priest Group, Selma the head nun of the Moon Church, members of the Hailing Group, and the scholars of the Madman School, all furrowed their brows and stared at Aberhard, whose face was contorted with pain.
What exactly had happened?
Most of them couldn't grasp the clue. It seemed like Jack Spett hadn't even touched Him, but Aberhard screamed in agony at the same time as Houston.
"Damn it... Damn it! It's an injury-link type of Mythical Power!"
Aberhard had never imagined that he would be struck so silently—in front of so many peers, he suffered an unseen loss at the hands of a new and rising Saint.
He slowly stood up, looking at his chest in terror.
