A middle-aged man with a sullen complexion arrived, clad in a luxurious bishop's robe of deep red and white, appearing to be in his fifties.
He remained calm and unflustered amidst the earth-shattering explosions, in stark contrast to the panic-stricken Hull.
The surrounding Grim Guards, upon seeing the newcomer, all paid respect by clutching their chests, exhibiting extreme reverence.
Hull immediately turned around with an expression of utter relief, as if grasping at a life-saving straw.
The newly crowned king of Grim scrambled towards the newcomer in a disheveled manner, adjusting the crooked crown on his forehead while pointing at the endless barrage of magic artillery outside the Absolute Defense Barrier, trying to say something.
However, as the explosions grew increasingly intense, his voice was quickly drowned out by the deafening roar, barely audible.
