Marden opened his eyes, gazing at the white skies above with a vacant look.
His shoulders were broad, and his stature was tall, unlike the hunchbacked, lanky fellow he usually portrayed himself as.
He had black hair that had a vibrant sheen to it, unlike his previous long, disheveled hair that had started graying at the roots.
There were no dark circles under his eyes, and he did not require the assistance of eyeglasses. His pupils were a striking grey, flickering with treachery, cunning, and… barely concealed pain.
His cheeks were no longer sunken, and his appearance was no longer haggard. He was neither shy nor timid. Yes, he was the black sheep of the Benton Family—or what remained of it now, anyway.
All of that was just a facade.
This was his true self.
No masks. No pretenses.
A mighty Mana Core Magus.
An Elder of the Inner Circle of the Cult of Bones.
Second only to the enigmatic Cult Leader himself.
