Of course, the envoy already had an idea who the terrifying figure seated before him was.
Perhaps if he had arrived empty-handed, he might not have immediately recognized him. But with the severed head he had personally delivered, there was almost no need to guess anymore.
If he was not mistaken, this should be Viscount Mic. The same Viscount the imperial prince had casually spoken about before they departed. The same young noble the prince had laughingly told them to "have some fun with."
At the time, none of them had taken the matter seriously. After all, according to the information gathered by the empire, Mic Nor's strength should at most have been around the late stage of the Grand Stage.
Strong among younger generations. But nothing more.
Yet now, the envoy's body trembled violently.
Among the five men who had accompanied him earlier, two had been Grand Stage supernaturals. Real Grand Stage experts.
