"Exactly!"
Tyrande lowered his voice and continued coldly, "I've also heard… that it was on this very same magic train that Alan once personally killed a hidden acolyte from the Church. You know how sacred acolytes are to the Church—they're practically the gods' chosen emissaries."
"But instead of hunting him down, the Church of Steam and Magic actually treated him with courtesy and respect. Doesn't that strike you as strange?"
"And what's more…"
Tyrande pointed a finger at Beatrice.
"He crossed paths with you in that small world before, didn't he? You two even clashed. At that time, he was nowhere near your level of strength. And how long ago was that? Not long enough for a normal mage to even break through a single tier."
"Yet now… in such a short period, he's reached a point where he can match you head-on. Do you realize how terrifying that is?"
Beatrice fell silent. She couldn't find a single explanation for how Alan's strength had grown so fast.
