The twelfth round of ghoul attacks was settled by the Absolution Hunting Team in nineteen minutes and thirty-six seconds.
As the yellow dust rose again, spraying out over four thousand ghouls for the thirteenth round from those 'black throats' beneath the tombstones, only thirteen minutes remained until tonight's selection tournament ended.
The Absolution Hunting Team seemed on the brink of victory.
Yet no one felt excited.
Everyone was already exhausted, the dizziness from magic fatigue made Zheng Qing feel as if everything around was swaying. The fresh magic power poured into his stomach during the brief rest seemed not his own, barely refreshing his parched spirit, yet under the spell's guide, it cheered, leaped, and rushed out once more.
As quickly as they came in.
The magic left without a speck of dust, only leaving behind a more weary body and an even more numb mouth.
