Chapter 592
It was enough to make Ian pause.
"To enter, you need the Magic Tower’s..." Ohara trailed off as she fell to her knees. The tattoos along her neck, arms, and beneath the thin fabric of her clothes flickered a searing yellow.
"Kh!" Vomiting an arrow of blood, Ohara collapsed. At almost the same moment, a thick steam mixed with the smell of burning flesh rose from her.
"Ugh, cough, cough—" Ohara coughed up a blood-tinged phlegm, the light from the tattoos shimmering through the steam beginning to fade.
Ian watched in silence, his brow slightly furrowed. It was the best he could do. If he interfered recklessly, the magic might backflow or become entangled, putting her in even greater danger.
"Phew... Phew..."
Fortunately, there were no more dramatic changes. Gasping for breath, Ohara painstakingly pushed herself up with both hands. The tattoos were still red like a brand, and a faint smoke still rose from them.
"If I startled you, my apologies. Agent of the Saint..." she said in a ragged voice, struggling to catch her breath.
Just as Ian was about to reply, his head turned toward the door to his left. Footsteps were rapidly approaching.
A moment later, the door burst open.
"What kind of reckless spellcaster—oh, Ian?" Thesaya, having entered, stopped short upon seeing him. Her gaze then dropped to the floor, to Ohara, who was panting and wreathed in smoke.
Looking at the shimmering tattoos on Ohara’s neck and arms, Thesaya tilted her head. "Was it an assassination attempt? Or a spell’s side effect?"