When the Hermit saw the newcomer arrive on the battlefield, his expression turned utterly grim.
The Blood Lord's figure looked haggard, to say the least. No, upon closer inspection, he only appeared to be exhausted. If one observed carefully, one would notice that his breathing was stable and there was a faint rosy sheen to his complexion.
It was just that his clothes were tattered, and his body was smeared with the remnants of a brutal battle. Other than that, he actually seemed to be quite healthy.
Don't tell me…
The Hermit's heart sank when he came up with a hypothesis, which, he believed, was likely to be true.
Blood magic! Has his understanding of this insidious art reached such a degree?
And very soon, he arrived at another conclusion, one that was equally shocking.
If he's here, then what about...
The fighting came to a halt, and the battlefield fell into a strange silence.
