The Alba standing in front of Lanling was nothing like the nightmare etched into his mind.
It almost felt as if an awkward old man was wearing the same skin. The sight made Lanling deeply uncomfortable—but more than that, it left him confused. No matter how hard he tried, he could not summon the hatred, fear, or malice he had prepared himself for.
When Alba finally gathered his thoughts, he sighed heavily, as though the weight of countless years had finally caught up to him.
"In truth," Alba began, voice low and rough, "I was never certain if everything I did was real. It all came at once, like one long, terrible dream... The man who lost himself after his wife and daughter died. The man who terrorized innocent children, who sacrificed his own blood—just to bring them back."
