With a crackle, branched lightning lit up the early-winter night with a silvery-white flash.
It didn't smite the ground, but instead, it tore through the air, illuminating the spot where Klein stood, as if it was daytime, making him stand out.
Spellsinger of God, Ace Snake, retracted his gaze, his face was gloomy as he whispered, "Rose School of Thought?
"It's not a wraith, nor is it an undead creature…"
The mature middle-aged man with a pair of golden eyes turned his head to the side to look at Capim's corpse and said, "Covering the target's corpse with tarot cards…
"This is the second time something like this has happened in the past two months."
"When was the first instance?" Cardinal Snake asked in a deep voice.
The mature middle-aged man in the well-ironed formal suit coughed lightly and said, "The time when the True Creator attempted to descend into this world with the help of a swindler."
