...No, she is not Annan Winter.
Annan imdiately realized this.
Though she appeared almost identical in age, height, and facial features...
The length of her hair was clearly different. It was not shoulder-length, but waist-long...and from her figure and skeleton, one could barely discern her gender.
And most importantly, there was the aura about her.
It was completely the opposite of Annan’s.
In her ice-blue pupils, there seed to be no emotions, eyes half-open, filled with a divine-like indifference. Not a trace of joy or laxness on her face, fingers intertwined and placed in front of her, her eyes full of wariness and distance.
She was dressed entirely in a pure white, thick robe, with a filigreed silver crown on her head. Her slender and long neck invoked images of a swan, while her delicate collarbones were hidden beneath the robe.
—Without a doubt.
She must be Annan Winter’s sister.
Unlike Annan, her soul didn’t seem to have the reversed runes etched on it...those emotionless ice-blue pupils montarily reminded Annan of the man in his mories who had taught him the Frost Sword Technique.
Such a strong and piercing aura, it could even make one temporarily overlook the fact that she was only fourteen or fifteen years old.
...Speaking of which, Annan was theoretically also fourteen.
But with his height and appearance, people might believe him to be eleven or twelve... Just how old was Annan Winter’s sister this year?
The mont she turned her head and saw Annan and the others, she slightly furrowed her brows.
"Lord David Gerald."
Her voice was clear, cold, and youthful as her ice-blue pupils imdiately focused on Annan, "I did not expect you to co too."
...How co Gerald is so famous?
At that instant, such a thought floated through Annan’s mind.
He had just noticed that when Maria saw those two people, there was only a bit of estrangent in her gaze. But the mont she saw him, she beca imdiately vigilant.
This is probably what it ans for notoriety to spread far and wide...
What on earth had Gerald done to make so many important figures aware of him?
"Greetings to Your Highness, Winter."
Seeing this, Annan imdiately bowed respectfully to Maria.
The two people beside him also seed to recognize the duke’s daughter.
They bowed to Maria in a wizard’s salute and then introduced themselves.
Upon seeing this, Maria nodded slightly.
"You may call Maria," she said simply.
This was most likely her real na.
For such important figures, they had no need to use false nas to deflect curses. There would certainly be a person raised in luxury within their family, bearing the sa na as them; the sole purpose being to block ’living idols,’ potential direct curses thrown at them.
So there was no need for her to give a false na to the three of them.
But it was different for Annan.
Gerald seed to have an unexpected fa...
There was no chance for him to give a false na.
He vaguely grasped sothing crucial.
In this instance, the na seed to be the key to solving the puzzle...
Thereafter, Maria explained to the three, "The invitation must have been delayed; I arrived here first. But clearly, the door hasn’t opened yet.
"I think we have to wait until you all arrive before Lord Michelangelo will let us in."
I think so too.
Annan muttered to himself softly.
He looked up at the Wizard’s Tower.
The gray-white tower... rather than a ’tower,’ it was more like a giant castle. It had a bizarre, symtrical structure — circular on both sides with a bridge in the middle.
If one were to look down from directly above, it would probably resemble an enormous dumbbell.
"This is basically a Twin Tower, isn’t it?"
Clare couldn’t help but exclaim.
Annan deeply agreed.
...Setting other things aside, which door are we supposed to enter through?
Or is it that any would do?
They didn’t have to wait long.
The other four guests arrived in three groups.
The first to arrive was a gaunt-faced old man, skin and bones, with sunken cheeks and deep-set eyes. His sparse hair and bowed head beca evident as he remained silent and did not join the crowd upon arrival.
Then ca a black-haired, black-eyed man with deep-set facial features and a friendly, warm smile. After arriving, he approached Annan and the others and introduced himself.
His na was Giralda, a wizard from the School of Prophets.
And he was actually a student of Master Michelangelo.
Master Michelangelo was most skilled in the School of Prophets’ spells, followed by shaping and idols. Therefore, after the enthusiastic middle-aged Giralda announced his school of affinity, Annan and the others couldn’t help but take a few more glances at him.
As for the last two to arrive, they ca together as a pair.
One of them was a handso youth with a divine presence in his visage.
His eyes were tightly closed, one side of his hair was shaved off, and the remaining white hair was braided into three different lengths, two hanging in front of him and one—the longest—at his back.
He was called Eugene lvin by Clare, a wizard of the idol school. It was said that he was a rather famous character... and this should be his real na too.
As for the other person...
In various ways, he was an acquaintance of Annan.
His beard was grey and white, his gaze resolute, and his skin slightly wrinkled with age. In his cloudy pupils, there seed to be colorful auroras constantly flowing.
"... Master Benjamin."
Annan respectfully bowed his head to him.
The other showed a complex expression as he glanced at Annan, his mouth opened as if to speak but then hesitated.
In the end, he simply nodded silently to Annan, taking it as a return greeting.
—Yes.
The last candidate to appear in Gerald’s nightmare...
was the transmutation wizard who had been cursed and killed on the ship... Benjamin.
The mont everyone arrived, all of their consciousnesses suddenly vanished briefly.
When they regained clarity, they found themselves in an extrely spacious and extraordinarily luxurious hall.
"... Oh."
Annan couldn’t help but exclaim in awe.
Clare’s eyes widened.
Maria still had a furrowed brow.
Because what appeared before everyone was...
a variety of statues aligned like constellations in the sky, following a certain pattern.
Giant statues. Centaur statues. Fairy statues.
Old man statues. Child statues.
Warrior statues. Maiden statues.
Angel statues. Serpent statues.
So magnificent. So spectacular.
Being lifelike was just the standard here.
"Having a soul" was rely the norm.
It was as if countless frozen historical fragnts overlapped each other.
The most wondrous thing was that almost every statue could be combined with one or several others nearby to form a scroll of imagery. And when they were combined with different statues, new scrolls and new stories erged.
At the sa ti, the arrangent of the statues on the ground seed to contain a pattern of so nurical ritual.
It was as if...
"—Like chess pieces in the hands of the gods," Maria murmured solemnly.
The atmosphere suddenly grew colder.
This clearly wasn’t a polite remark.
But because it was too fitting, no one knew how to respond for a mont...
After all, Princess Maria was a child—and also the one with the highest status among them.
When a child stated the plain truth, people found themselves at a loss for words.
In the end, it was Benjamin who clapped his hands, breaking the awkward silence, "Truly worthy of Master Michelangelo.
"This is like a miracle... no, it can almost be called a divine spectacle!"
"—Like a miracle, right."
Just then, a voice of an old man filled with laughter sounded.
In front of the eight visitors, one of the old man statues suddenly began to speak.
Strangely enough, it stood right in the middle of the hall, at the very center of the stage, the heart of the canvas... but it was only when it spoke that people beca aware of its existence.
Statues that talked were not unusual in a Transcendent’s worldview.
Especially when it was a creation of Master Michelangelo... this was even more ordinary.
Thus, no one showed surprise, but they continued to gaze at the statue of the elder.
—However, though no one said it aloud.
There was still a hint of resentnt in their hearts that Master Michelangelo himself was not present.
Yet, that slight resentnt was instantly dispelled as the statue spoke its next words:
"So," said the statue of the old man slowly, "let disclose to you all...
"The last will of ’Eye of Lag,’ Michelangelo Buonarroti."
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