Whispering Blade

A few minutes later, the atmosphere in the great hall suddenly changed. The hum of voices grew quiet, and many of the guests shifted, turning to a particular spot. As Sunny watched, a tall figure appeared on a wide balcony above them.

The man was strong and severe, with a sharp face and even sharper, cold eyes. His black hair was touched by silver at the temples. He was wearing an elegant attire that somehow looked like a suit of impregnable armor despite being made of nothing but black fabric. His vermilion cloak moved slightly, as if touched by invisible wind.

As soon as the man appeared, Sunny felt a considerable pressure descending on the hall. The dignified stranger radiated so much power and authority that it was hard not to admire him… or fear him. He was a Saint, without a doubt.