In the brief interlude as several other prominent nobles straightened their attire, preparing to present their gifts and congratulations in turn, everything abruptly changed.

HUM!

A low, yet intensely piercing tremor swept through the entire White Rose Hall without warning.

All the silver candle flames flickered violently at the same instant, casting long, twisted shadows. Even the fragrance of rose and cedar lingering in the air seemed to instantly freeze and dissipate. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

The first to react was Murphy.

The very microsecond the tremor began, his eyes, previously as calm as a deep pool, narrowed abruptly.

He didn’t turn his head or assume any exaggerated defensive stance. He remained in his seat, his Qi completely contained, drawing no notice from the surrounding nobles.

Only his right hand had moved, seemingly resting casually upon the hilt of the sword at his waist. His palm was flush against the ancient hilt, leaving not the slightest gap.

Immediately after, Margaret froze as well.

The perfect, gentle smile on her face vanished instantly, replaced by an icy deadliness.

She had been holding Eleanor’s hand, and now she fluidly drew her daughter half a step behind her, subtly shielding the girl with her own body as her sharp gaze fixed on the hall’s entrance.

An instant after Murphy and Margaret reacted, Archbishop Fernandez, who stood solemnly beside the dais, also moved.

He fiercely gripped his Oak Staff, and the Moonlight Stone on its head seemed to give off a faint, fleeting glimmer.

His eyes, usually filled with compassion and wisdom, were now as sharp as a hawk’s. He uttered a few short, ancient syllables with extreme speed and in a very low voice. The words carried a strange power, causing a faint silver halo to shimmer around him.

The hall fell deathly silent.

All conversation ceased. The smiles froze on the nobles’ faces as they looked around in confusion and alarm, instinctively sensing the approach of an immense, primal threat.

Princess Elizabeth also stopped in her tracks, her face growing even paler. The Royal Knight beside her immediately stepped forward, his hand instinctively resting on his sword hilt as he subtly shielded her with his body.

Amidst the panic, the hall’s massive, carved oak door—emblazoned with the creation epic of the God of Stars and Truth—slid open soundlessly.

There was no announcement from an Attendant, no Guard to bar the way.

The palace corridor outside looked perfectly normal.

And yet, a figure stepped inside, moving as naturally as if he had been waiting there all along.

The newcomer was tall and slender, clad in impeccably tailored, near-black formal attire. The style incorporated elements from the Castile Kingdom.

The attire bore no conspicuous crests or decorations, but in the flickering candlelight, the fabric itself seemed to swallow the light, giving it a texture of bottomless depth.

He appeared to be in his forties, his complexion pale and his features sharp, as if carved from marble. He possessed a cold, inhuman beauty.

His iron-gray hair was combed with meticulous care.

The moment he stepped into the hall, an intangible pressure capable of crushing a mortal’s spirit spread out as if it were a physical force. Many of the nobles turned pale, their legs grew weak, and they could barely remain standing.

He ignored the horrified gazes that filled the hall. His gray eyes swept slowly across the dais, pausing briefly on Margaret before finally coming to rest on Archbishop Fernandez.

Then, he spoke.

His voice wasn’t loud, yet it pierced the silence of the entire hall, ringing clearly in every person’s ear. It carried a strange cadence that seemed to transcend mortal speech.

"Fernandez. It’s been many years. Your Star Resonance seems to have hardly improved."

He spoke the common tongue with perfect pronunciation, yet it was tinged with a distinct Castilian accent.

Archbishop Fernandez gripped his Oak Staff, taking a step forward to stand protectively before Margaret and Eleanor. He responded, his voice deep and heavy with caution, "Marquis Alonso de la Torre. To arrive uninvited and trespass upon a sacred celebration in Taymer Palace... is this how guests from the Castile Kingdom conduct themselves? Or should I say... is this the way of the ’Tower of Secret Silver’?"

The name "Alonso de la Torre," together with the title "Tower of Secret Silver," detonated like a thunderclap in the minds of those few nobles in the know.

This man was not merely a high-ranking Marquis with true power in the Castile Kingdom. He was also one of the few confirmed Official Wizards from that mysterious and formidable Wizard Organization: the Tower of Secret Silver!

’An Official Wizard, appearing so suddenly at the birthday celebration for Duke Temeris’s daughter...’

’This was no congratulatory visit!’

The air inside the hall froze solid.