Michael opened his mouth before the old man could say anything else.
"I was attacked again," he said.
That single sentence drew the attention of everyone who was hearing him.
The silver-haired elder descended at once, her body cutting through the air like a falling blade before landing beside the old man.
"Again?" she asked.
Several nearby experts turned fully toward him now.
"Who attacked you?" the old man asked.
Michael shook his head.
"I don't know," he said truthfully. "I didn't stay long enough to find out. They were stronger than me. Much stronger. I ran as fast as I could."
That was all. No exaggeration. Just a plain statement of fact.
The silver-haired elder's gaze sharpened as she studied him.
The others did the same.
And that was where the strangeness of his appearance crept in.
Michael looked terrible.
His coat was torn and destroyed in several places. Dirt and dried blood clung to his clothes. His mana was unstable, and his complexion was pale.
Yet…
