Narrowing his eyes, Darien stared at the unfamiliar figures.
Aura saturated the desolation, conquering the mist itself and leaving tension between him and his assailants.
'Shameless wanderers,' he thought.
Although he didn't know them personally, Darien could recognize this type anywhere.
"That shield of yours isn't bad. It actually took my shot clean without cracking," one said.
The second, a woman clad in a light-blue dress, usually double-split for female warriors, glanced at the orange glow in Darien's possession.
"But that weapon… now that's a treasure worth killing for, young man."
Wanderers were rogue fighters who found their way into the Primordial World just to lurk in the shadows, waiting to rob young warriors of their kills or ambush them for loot.
Most of them weren't even strong at all, but their cunning and desperation made them dangerous at the wrong moment.
Unfazed, Darien's glare cut through the fog sharper than his sword.
