After a slight nod, Santiago Priest appeared outside the tent, looking at the busy diviners setting up the altar, a wry smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Recently, to deal with the divine invaders, the Empire had already sent away many diviners.
Among the current team were members of the royal family, indicating the situation was more severe than he expected.
On the Continent of Aslante, being a diviner was a tragic profession.
At the peak of strength, there was basically no need for their services; they could just focus on cultivating in peace.
Whenever they were needed, it was a moment of tragedy. Usually, such times also marked the decline of a power.
After the tedious sacrifice ceremony ended, Santiago Priest began the divination and instantly spat out a mouthful of blood, aging fifty years in a moment.
"God…"
He only managed to utter a single word before he perished. Many of the accompanying diviners were also dead or injured.
