Howard Mason's cold gaze continued to stare at Milo. His heart wanted him to kill these people, but his mind told him otherwise.
If they were ordinary wizards, he wouldn't mind killing them. But two of them were level-9 Wizards, and the last one was close to touching Level-10.
More importantly, Howard had yet to come up with a plan. He didn't want to go against the Magic Lord Callen yet.
"Do you have the slave contract scroll?" he asked Phylia.
Old lady Phylia was shocked, but then she quickly understood.
Swoosh!
A blood-colored magic scroll appeared in her hand. The breath it was leaking would cause mental damage to low-level wizards.
In order to hold the magic scroll, you needed good strength.
"No," Milo shouted in horror.
He was not naive. He knew the uses of the blood magic scroll. Each blood magic scroll had its owner.
If someone signed their name on it, then they would become a slave to the magic scroll owner.
