Battle! The Tower Lord of Ghostflame!

The interior of the ​Tower of Ghostflame was starkly different. Kael immediately sensed that the sinister aura had intensified, making everyone uneasy. As magic practitioners, they were naturally sensitive to spatial energies, and this oppressive atmosphere had them all frowning involuntarily.

Inside, rows of towering ​magic spires stood tall—clearly the usual training grounds for the mages here.

The tallest among them was the ​Ghostflame Spire, the personal tower of the ​Tower Lord, from which the entire organization derived its name.

The other spires—around a dozen in total—varied in height but were equally imposing, their obsidian structures radiating palpable mana that weighed heavily even from a distance.

Kael knew that within the Tower of Ghostflame, only ​tenth-tier mages and abovewere granted their own spires. These were their primary targets.

A mage fighting from their spire gained enhanced spell potency and faster cultivation—a mark of status and power.

"Move out. Engage." Zorath the Silent's voice was a hushed command, his sharp gaze signaling the group to prepare.

The ​Shadow Hall operatives nodded in unison. Highly disciplined, they knew exactly what to do.

As for ​Thunderclap, Kael had no concerns. The man's strength far surpassed that of an ordinary tenth-tier expert—he held an absolute advantage.

"Thunderclap, show no mercy to those dark-winged mages. Strike hard." Kael patted his shoulder with the order.

"Understood!" Thunderclap grinned with his usual simple earnestness, scratching his head before joining the Shadow Hall's advance.

That left Kael, ​Zorath the Silent, and ​Bloodshadow—their targets: the ​Tower Lord and his three elders!

Kael activated his ​Wings of the Wind God, vanishing in a blur as he took the lead. Zorath and Bloodshadow followed closely, the trio streaking toward their objectives at breakneck speed.

"Damn it, intruders!"

The moment they approached the ​Tower of Ghostflame, a panicked shout rang out. The organization's vigilance was formidable, but Kael and the others had anticipated this. No sooner had they drawn near the spires than a sharp cry echoed from above—followed immediately by a ​scream of agony.

A figure plummeted from one of the spires. The mage who had just sounded the alarm was now ​a corpse, his life snuffed out mid-warning. A tenth-tier spellcaster, dead before he could even comprehend the threat.

As the scream faded, violent mana fluctuations erupted from every spire. The dark-winged mages of the Tower were thrown into chaos.

"How did they get this far without detection?!"

"All units, defend! We're under attack!"

Shouts overlapped in the turmoil. Amid the confusion, ​Sophia "Golden Tulip" and the ​Shadow Hall officers seized the moment, cutting down several mages before they could react...

"I'll admit, the Sacred Council's operatives are impressively efficient..." Kael observed the battlefield with quiet approval. The Shadow Hall held the upper hand—Zorath's elites knew ​exactly how to exploit disarray.

Then, a voice like ​screeching rusted metal slithered from the central spire, dripping with malice.

"Kekeke... Foolish worms. You dare trespass into ​my domain? Today, you all die!"

A figure floated into view from the ​Ghostflame Spire, and Kael's eyes narrowed.

The man appeared to be in his forties, draped in opulent robes, gripping an ​obsidian staff studded with eerie, pulsating lights. His features were unsettling—thinning hair, unnaturally pale skin, and eyes like frozen daggers. His grin was a predator's, oozing sinister amusement. Every inch of him radiated ​wrongness.

"So this is the Tower Lord—'Ghostflame' himself. A top-tier eleventh-tier mage..."Kael's instincts sharpened. The man's aura confirmed the rumors—he was ​dangerous.

Simultaneously, ​three more figures materialized behind Ghostflame: the Tower's ​elders.

The first was ​a hulking, obese man with slit-like eyes brimming with unrestrained bloodlust.

The second figure was a middle-aged woman, her lips curled into a faint sneer as she surveyed the situation with undisguised disdain, showing no trace of tension.

The last was a white-haired elder, his face deeply lined, his body gaunt, and his gaze equally frigid.

These were the strongest figures currently within the Tower of Ghostflame. They had gathered swiftly, reacting within moments of their fallen comrade's dying scream, arriving from distant spires with lightning speed.

"The Tower Lord's strength is unfathomable—likely on par with Zorath the Silent, slightly above my current level. But these three elders are weaker than me. I can handle them easily..." Kael's eyes swept over the Tower's elites, quickly assessing their power relative to his own.

His current strength surpassed that of the Tower's elders but still fell short of the Tower Lord himself.

"Whether we die or not remains to be seen, but I know for certain—you will."Zorath the Silent laughed heartily, gripping his warhammer. At this moment, he stood like a god of battle, his combat aura vibrating with thunderous intensity.

Only then did the Tower Lord notice Zorath the Silent, Kael, and Bloodshadow. His pupils contracted—he had been focused on the Shadow Hall operatives and overlooked these three.

"So it's the Sacred Council... The famed 'Hammer of Thunder,' Zorath the Silent. It seems my Tower has drawn their attention." The Tower Lord's earlier arrogance faded, replaced by a gaze as dark as still water.

Behind him, the three elders also paled, their expressions grim.

The name of the Sacred Council might not faze the largest dark-winged mage factions, but for an organization like the Tower of Ghostflame, it carried undeniable weight.

"You've brought this upon yourselves." Bloodshadow's voice was icy, his eyes gleaming with killing intent. He harbored an innate revulsion for dark-winged mages.

"And here's Bloodshadow, commander of the Divine Martial Knights. And this one beside you... must be Kael, the so-called 'foremost genius of the younger generation,' lately making waves." The Tower Lord's gaze grew even colder as it lingered on Kael, thick with murderous intent.

Of course, the ​Tower Lord of Ghostflame knew of Kael. The assassination plot against him had been proposed by the Tower's ​Grand Elder—the white-haired old man—but it had also received the Tower Lord's explicit approval.

The Tower Lord's voice dripped with venomous amusement. ​"So the Sacred Council's assault on my Tower is largely because of you, brat. Heh… how fortunate." His laughter was icy, carrying the chill of the grave as he pieced together the reason behind this invasion.

"Even if you wish to destroy my Tower, you'll need the strength to back it up!" With a sneer, his body ​dissolved into a raging gale, closing the distance in the blink of an eye. His speed was terrifying—within a single breath, he was upon them.

The Tower Lord raised his staff abruptly, and a ​Crimson Moon Sigil flared to life. ​He, too, had mastered the power of divine runes!

Zorath the Silent surged forward to meet him, his combat aura roaring like thunder as it reached its peak. His movements were just as swift, his warhammer gleaming with lethal intent.

Simultaneously, the Tower's three elders lunged into action, only to be ​halted by a wall of golden combat aura. ​Bloodshadow stood before them like an unsheathed blade, his towering frame radiating intimidation.

And then—Kael moved!

His ​Wings of the Wind God unfurled, scattering gusts of elemental energy so dense that even the bystanders paled at the pressure.

A flicker of motion—Kael ​blinked directly in front of the Tower Lord!

"Damn it! That speed—!" The Tower Lord's heart lurched in shock.