Moon blessed

Leon harbored his doubts, but he kept them to himself, his mind tirelessly processing every detail as he watched the recording on the scroll. He was reluctant to dismiss any possibility, no matter how improbable.

As they continued to observe the unfolding battle, Leon's eyes narrowed in concentration. Orion skillfully avoided the Wyvern's spells, moving with an efficiency that seemed almost effortless. "He isn't using flight magic, even when it would be most convenient to avoid those flaming orbs," Leon remarked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Teress raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his observation. "Are you suggesting that he isn't skilled enough to use it? Or that he doesn't know the spell?" she asked with a hint of amusement.

Leon remained silent, his focus unbroken. Teress, undeterred by his lack of response, pressed further. "Are you seriously suggesting that a mere Silver Core mage single-handedly slew the Wyvern? That's preposterous."

Common knowledge dictated that only mages who had reached the Radiant Silver mana core stage could perform flight magic, a hallmark of their rank. It was widely accepted that mastering this ability conferred the title of Radiant Silver mage in the truest sense.

Leon finally broke his silence, his tone measured and thoughtful. "No, it's quite the opposite. Firstly, his impeccable dodging of the Wyvern's magic with minimal movement suggests he's a highly skilled combatant. It's unlikely he would disregard an efficient skill such as flight. Secondly, the mana he used to quell the infernos consuming the buildings would have left any Silver Core mage nearly manaless by now."

He paused, his eyes never leaving the scroll. "So no, I don't believe he's just a run-of-the-mill Silver Core mage. Nor is he a standard Radiant Silver. On the contrary, I suspect he's deliberately concealing his true strength. He's far more dangerous than he appears." Leon concluded, making an educated guess.

Teress frowned, her amusement giving way to a serious contemplation. "If what you say is true, then we are dealing with an opponent of considerable cunning and skills, One who is adept at masking his true capabilities."

Leon nodded, his expression grim. "Exactly. His actions suggest a strategic mind, one that understands the value of deception and surprise. He's not just avoiding the Wyvern's attacks; he's studying it, learning its patterns, and exploiting its weaknesses with surgical precision."

The room fell into a heavy silence as they absorbed the implications of Leon's analysis. The cloaked man's ability to feign weakness while possessing such formidable skill made him a formidable threat.

"We need to reassess our understanding of his capabilities," Leon continued, his voice resolute. "He's playing a dangerous game, and we must be prepared for whatever he has planned."

Teress nodded, her own resolve hardening. "Agreed. We shouldn't underestimate him. If he's really hiding his real strength, then that makes him all the more dangerous."

Together, they returned their attention to the scroll, now viewing the battle with a heightened sense of vigilance. The intricate dance between the cloaked man and the Wyvern was more than a mere struggle for survival; it was a carefully orchestrated performance, each move revealing deeper layers of strategy and skill. As Thrones, they understood the stakes and the necessity of uncovering the truth behind the cloaked man's enigmatic power.

Both of their focuses went back to the scroll again. The battle continued, and their conviction about the cloaked man holding back only grew stronger. The mage in the crimson cloak was undoubtedly holding back. Setting magic aside, his remarkable battle intelligence and decisive actions rivaled that of elite knights from their own personal squads.

"He could easily be counted among the Empire's most formidable Radiant Silver mages," they both concluded, their expressions reflecting the bland judgment. However, their optimism waned as they observed the Wyvern undergoing a fearsome transformation.

As Thrones, they were well aware of the peril of Dragon Tongue. It was particularly the reason why the Wyverns were too dangerous to handle than other ordinary beasts. The draconic magic can make things hard to deal with, even for them.

Amidst the evolving battle, they couldn't help but notice the transformation in the cloaked man's approach as well. Following the Wyvern's transformation, he changed his ways as well. Now, he fought with heightened ferocity, seemingly undeterred by minor injuries, committing himself to direct confrontations, risking it all to target his enemy's vital points.

His fluid shifts between offensive and defensive sword styles were nothing short of extraordinary. Yet, even that wasn't enough. He found himself cornered, encircled by dozens of fiery orbs, with the Wyvern preparing to unleash another fiery assault.

They knew he would ultimately emerge victorious, but their astonishment grew as he fearlessly leaped into a head-on confrontation.

In an abrupt surge of emotion, Leon erupted from his chair, his hands crashing onto the table and effortlessly cleaving it in half. His eyes widened with a fierce intensity, locked onto the scroll that held the unfolding revelation. With a resounding declaration, he shouted, "I knew something was wrong. They've reappeared... after all this time."

On the other side of the room, however, a potent surge of mana erupted from Teress. Manifestation of her anger pulsating through the air like a seething lion. Her words cut through the atmosphere like flaming lashes, carrying an intensity that mirrored the tumult within her. "Wyvern's magic got dispersed before he stabbed it in the head. He's one of them..."

The acknowledgment hung in the air as Leon, his gaze still fixated on the scroll, confirmed, "Yes, one with the ability to disperse any form of magic— the mages carrying the blessing of the moon."

"The Moon Blessed," Teress hissed, completing Leon's statement.

The revelation painted a more intricate picture, unraveling the mysterious victory of the masked warrior over the fierce Wyvern, placing him among those gifted with a divine ability to unravel the very fabric of magical forces.

Hatred and rage lashed through Teress's glare, her eyes beginning to shimmer with intense mana, radiating a palpable sense of anger and frustration. The air around her crackled with energy, like an electrical storm in its ferocity. The wind whipped around her, tousling her hair and clothes as if caught in a tempest. Papers on nearby desks fluttered and lifted, and the water in glasses and vases rippled and sloshed, mimicking the turbulence of a stormy sea.

Despite the turbulence, Teress maintained her gaze focused, unwaveringly fixed on the source of her fury: the image of the masked man on the scroll. She glared at his visage, Her palpable bloodlust sent waves of panic through the city again as they took it for another impending invasion.

"TERESS!" Leon's resonant voice sliced through the charged atmosphere of the room, a command that carried the weight of authority and strength. In that singular address, he effortlessly halted the surging tide of Teress's mana, asserting his dominance and control. The abrupt shift brought a swift return to normalcy as Teress, caught in the throes of her rage, snapped out of her intense emotional maelstrom.

The room, once engulfed in the pulsating waves of magic, again settled into an uneasy calm. The echoes of Leon's command still resonating, a testament to the power he wielded. The nuanced interplay of dominance and restraint unfolded in that moment, underscoring the intricate dynamics between the two Thrones.