The surface of the envelope shimmered with a sea-blue luster, reminiscent of the boundless blue seas of Necalis Island.
Faintly, whispers lingered around his ears, like the singing of the Demon World's sea waves.
This Magic Power.
Undoubtedly, it was Calila.
But now, after the war, the Holy Polante Theocracy had distinctly separated from the Demon World.
On one hand, it was to reassure other countries; on the other, humans and the Demon Race inherently had cultural differences that were hard to bridge, and most ordinary humans feared the Demon Race.
The clear distinction between the Holy Polante Theocracy and the Demon World was a choice made by both sides, and it was a trend dictated by fate.
"Have you identified the sender's identity?" Lanci furrowed his brows and looked up, asking Grand Justice Elm.
"Your Majesty, after extensive investigations by the Holy Tribunal, we still cannot determine the sender." Elm shook his head, his tone serious.