[Attention Level: Maximum]
[False Monarch]
Ashok's suppressed charisma exploded in an instant, an overwhelming force that swept through the entire entrance, filling the space with an oppressive presence.
"What were you saying?" Ashok's voice was calm but laced with a threatening undertone that seed to reverberate through the air, each word carrying the weight of imnse power.
The mage, however, was in no condition to respond. The instant the pressure of Ashok's presence crashed over him; he lost all control. The spell he had been summoning faltered and collapsed in on itself, causing a violent mana backlash. His body convulsed with the shock of it, but he couldn't even try to regain control. The crushing pressure surrounding him made it nearly impossible to focus, let alone redirect the unstable mana surging through his body.
The overwhelming surge of Ashok's presence didn't just affect the mage—it rippled outward, consuming everything in its path. Those within a 10-ter radius, especially the low-ranking individuals who had gathered to watch the spectacle, were imdiately overwheld. The pressure was so intense that they collapsed, their bodies unable to withstand the force of his aura. One by one, they fainted, crumpling to the ground like ragdolls, their senses unable to cope with the suffocating weight of the power flooding the area.
Those standing further away fared better, though not by much. They managed to keep their footing, but the strain was clear on their faces, their bodies trembling as they fought to resist the pressure.
The condition of the other mages was not as dire as the publics, but they weren't unaffected. They imdiately began channeling their mana, their faces grim with concentration as they attempted to resist the crushing pressure that radiated from Ashok.
The mage who had dared to provoke Ashok was now a pitiful sight, vomiting blood in liters. Yet, Ashok's gaze remained cold and unyielding, devoid of any trace of pity.
"WHAT'S HAPPENING HERE?" The voice bood, deep and authoritative, shaking the air around them. Ashok's gaze shifted upward, his eyes narrowing as he tracked the source of the booming voice. Above them, a figure hovered in the sky, cloaked in a flowing yellow robe.
'An SS Ranker. He or she must be in charge of this portal.'
The mage's figure disappeared in an instant, a blur of motion. The next mont, they were standing directly beside the mage who had been vomiting blood. The robed mage didn't speak a word but extended a gloved hand toward the injured mage's back. The air around them seed to shimr as the figure's mana flowed fluidly into the wounded man, stabilizing him.
'A no-cast High Movent Type Spell. The face is covered... it's hard to guess who it is.'
Most S and SS Rank mages cover their faces to maintain their anonymity. Their identities are known only to the six elders and the Tower Master.
The mage slowly removed its hand from the injured mage's back, its gaze shifting from Ashok to the fainted crowd sprawled around him.
"It would be better if you stop." warned the mage.
With the suppressing artifact now firmly in his possession, Ashok was no longer bound by any limitations. He could now use his charisma to his full potential. Secondly, he knew the mage could not do anything to him because of the current state of the magic tower.
"It would be better if you teach discipline to this newbie," he said in the sa way as the mage, his gaze locking onto the mage who had started everything—the one who had foolishly provoked him.
The mage flinched under Ashok's piercing, blood-red gaze, his confidence shattering in an instant. His pride seed to crumble as he instinctively took a step behind the yellow-robed mage, seeking so form of refuge.
The yellow-robed mage had no idea what had just transpired, but there was no ti to dwell on it. The situation had escalated far too quickly, and the consequences of further delay were too great. The portal services, particularly in the central region, could not afford any disruption.
"I will personally look into this matter," the yellow-robed mage declared, his voice steady as he offered his promise to resolve the situation. Only after the mage spoke did Ashok make his next move. He wore the spectacles again and the pressure disappeared like it was nothing.
Ashok retrieved a gold coin from his Inventory and then flicked it at the Yellow-Robed Mage. Just as the coin was about to hit the yellow-robed mage, it suddenly halted in mid-air. "Southern Duchy," said Ashok, the na of his destination, and began making his way inside the building by stepping over the unconscious bodies.
The yellow-robed mage remained rooted to the spot, his gaze never leaving the coin as it hovered in the air for a brief mont longer before he finally reached out and grasped it. His fingers closed around the coin, and his attention shifted to the mage standing behind him.
As soon as he felt the intensity of the yellow-robed mage's stare, the subordinate began to shake, his body showing the fear he was in. The subordinate, now visibly trembling, lowered his head and imdiately bowed in submission, his voice shaky as he stamred out an apology.
"I-I am sorry. This will never happen again,"
The yellow-robed mage's voice was low, almost a whisper, but it carried a weight of warning. "You better pray that he is not related to any noble house, especially the Southern Duke. If he was then…" The mage left the next words unspoken as it disappeared the next second after.
Left in his place, the mage humiliated by Ashok's overwhelming presence stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. His mind raced, his thoughts consud by the ominous warning he had just received.
The idea of Ashok being connected to a noble house, especially the Southern Duke, sent a chill through his bones. He could feel the eyes of his comrades on him, their gazes filled with pity.
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