Ka-broom yawned sheepishly in the air, its Master shifting restlessly with her lover on its twig.
Mel's eyes darted between the Archbishop and the Saintess, her blush fading as a sharp glint replaced it.
"Warning shot?" The man's grip over his sickle tightened. "Please do not test me, Miss Mel."
His sickle swept toward the crystals scattered across the soil and cliffside.
"See those? They're the same crystals used to forge our crossbow bolts, each packed with condensed mana, strong enough to kill an Adept-ranked in a single shot."
Then, he swiped the sickle slowly in the air like an impending death sentence.
"And there were thirty of them lined up." He continued. "On each cliff. That's sixty bolts aimed at you right now."
"You spoke with the eagerness of the hunted." The elf's grasp left Mel as she descended from the flying broom.
"You spoke as if you truly seek death." The Archbishop scoffed. "Our Master has told us to treat you fairly."
